Witty opening line, just off-kilter enough to grab your attention.
Slightly more detailed explanation, followed by disclaimer about how, regardless of what I type afterward, I'm not judging anyone who believes differently than I do (even though, let's face it, I am.)
Silly anecdote about what prompted me to write this post, likely referencing a friend/co-worker/smelly fellow bus passenger.
Paragraph containing comments and observations written with humour and light-hearted teasing, used to disguise (thinly) my distaste and reproach for subject matter.
Ha ha ha I'm so funny aren't I witty? don't you just hate it when blah blah blah blah blah.
Slightly more sensitive comment about the serious problems faced by poor people/cute little animals/something else that's lame.
The word 'fuck' a bunch of times, interspersed with words that aren't 'fuck' so I don't sound like a complete jackoff.
Summary of my point/argument/spazz-fest, which is hilarious but also almost reveals that I'm actually upset/sad/care about something.
Just kidding. Everyone can blow me.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Barf, Swallow and Repeat
I did the unthinkable today. I uttered words I never thought I would ever utter. I had to force myself to say them, and then I barfed a little in my mouth, then swallowed my barf then barfed up it up again, plus a little bit more. Six words which, on their own, are completely harmless, but when combined caused the very fabric of my existence to disintegrate. Six words I have never said or even thought before today. Six words which, when I type them in just a few moments, will likely make me do the whole barf-swallow-and repeat thing again.
"I wish I had a boyfriend."
Barf. Swallow. And repeat.
I said those words to a very good friend of mine, who belongs to the unfortunate set of ears into which I unload everything that's ever bothered me EVER. He's either a very patient man, or he's just biding his time until he comes up with the perfect way to murder me without getting caught. He's a good sounding board, because he's the most honest person I know and always tells me what I should hear, whether I want to hear it or not. In fact, I often know as I'm asking him a question that the answer will piss me off, yet I ask anyway because I know he's only going to say what he's going to say because he knows it will be good for me to hear it. Also, he can move pretty quickly, so if I ever try to take a swing at him, he knows damn well he'll get out of the way in time.
So I said the "Sickening Six" words today, and he almost immediately had advice. That advice was Internet dating. Aaaaaaaaaaaand.....barf-swallow-and repeat. No, I said. Weirdos, I said. I need to actually see someone IN PERSON to know if I'm interested, I said. Give it a chance, he said. There are good ones on there, he said. Barf-swallow-barf, I said.
Sitting at home now, and just closed the Internet window on which I had been perusing a local dating site. I pretty much do everything my friend tells me to, because he's usually right. Usually. You were not right this time, good friend. One check-mark in the loss column for you. Your winning streak is over.
I have learned three very important things from the half hour I spent on that website.
1) Knot vary meny peeple r gud spellerz anee-more
2) A lot of men who shouldn't have mustaches DO
3) Men who are bald on the head can still have an awful lot of hair on their shoulders
I have also learned that at least three people on Earth still say they like "long walks on the beach" (barf-swallow-and repeat), a lot of men have been burned (or, in one case, 'berned') by women in the past, and anyone can cut and paste a picture of a sexy fireman into their profile, even if they are not, in fact, a sexy fireman.
Listen, I know there are good people to be found on the Intertubes. I have friends who have found them. Unfortunately for the rest of us, they found them all and now there are only bahd-speling, inappropriately-mustached, bald-yet-hairy-shouldered ones left. To those friends of mine, I say "Good for you. Now go clone your men, invent a way to make them age quickly to about 30 or so, slow their development down to normal levels, give me one, and I will name a building after you."
To my friend who is forced to listen to my rantings and ravings and whinings and bitchings and mopings and irrational gibberish, yet continues to be my friend for some reason I have yet to figure out, I say "You have until tomorrow to come up with a way to get me a boyfriend. You might by spry now, but someday you won't be as quick as you are, and I will be able to get a few punches in before you can get away."
"I wish I had a boyfriend."
Barf. Swallow. And repeat.
I said those words to a very good friend of mine, who belongs to the unfortunate set of ears into which I unload everything that's ever bothered me EVER. He's either a very patient man, or he's just biding his time until he comes up with the perfect way to murder me without getting caught. He's a good sounding board, because he's the most honest person I know and always tells me what I should hear, whether I want to hear it or not. In fact, I often know as I'm asking him a question that the answer will piss me off, yet I ask anyway because I know he's only going to say what he's going to say because he knows it will be good for me to hear it. Also, he can move pretty quickly, so if I ever try to take a swing at him, he knows damn well he'll get out of the way in time.
So I said the "Sickening Six" words today, and he almost immediately had advice. That advice was Internet dating. Aaaaaaaaaaaand.....barf-swallow-and repeat. No, I said. Weirdos, I said. I need to actually see someone IN PERSON to know if I'm interested, I said. Give it a chance, he said. There are good ones on there, he said. Barf-swallow-barf, I said.
Sitting at home now, and just closed the Internet window on which I had been perusing a local dating site. I pretty much do everything my friend tells me to, because he's usually right. Usually. You were not right this time, good friend. One check-mark in the loss column for you. Your winning streak is over.
I have learned three very important things from the half hour I spent on that website.
1) Knot vary meny peeple r gud spellerz anee-more
2) A lot of men who shouldn't have mustaches DO
3) Men who are bald on the head can still have an awful lot of hair on their shoulders
I have also learned that at least three people on Earth still say they like "long walks on the beach" (barf-swallow-and repeat), a lot of men have been burned (or, in one case, 'berned') by women in the past, and anyone can cut and paste a picture of a sexy fireman into their profile, even if they are not, in fact, a sexy fireman.
Listen, I know there are good people to be found on the Intertubes. I have friends who have found them. Unfortunately for the rest of us, they found them all and now there are only bahd-speling, inappropriately-mustached, bald-yet-hairy-shouldered ones left. To those friends of mine, I say "Good for you. Now go clone your men, invent a way to make them age quickly to about 30 or so, slow their development down to normal levels, give me one, and I will name a building after you."
To my friend who is forced to listen to my rantings and ravings and whinings and bitchings and mopings and irrational gibberish, yet continues to be my friend for some reason I have yet to figure out, I say "You have until tomorrow to come up with a way to get me a boyfriend. You might by spry now, but someday you won't be as quick as you are, and I will be able to get a few punches in before you can get away."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)