When You Find You, Come Get an Ass Kickin'...

I'm generally an optimist...OK, more of a realist, but when I hear cry baby songs on free radio like this mess that David Cook has just released, I want to vomit and then punch his mother for having him neutered.

He sings, "When you find you, come back to me..."

Really?

Seriously?

And men say that women are nuts?

Dude, man up.

Likely your semi-psycho girlfriend gave you the "It's not you, it's me" speech and you didn't see it for what it was.

...or...

You caught her doing your best friend and in a last minute attempt to keep you from slitting your wrist, she told you that she was confused and "lost" and being the whipped assclown that you are, you bought it.

Honestly, I realize that true love does exist, but this scenario isn't it.

What kind of nutless candyass waits around for some unbalanced cuckoo (who likely has 3 or more cats) to "find" herself?

She isn't leaving to find herself, bro. She is leaving because she has likely gone out of her ever loving mind from you serenading her with that sappy ear poison you call music as soon as she walks through the door from a long day at a real job.

Likely she is tired of your whiny neediness and simply wants you to throw her on the bed and ride her like a Pinarello.

You're going to "keep your things right where you left them...I'll be here for you..."

Yeah.

OK.

You may just be nuttier than she is.

Some dude tells me he's keeping my stuff like a shrine and I assure you, I'm moving to another state.

Your friends won't tell you this, David because they are all afraid to hurt your "sensitive" feelings while you are in this "fragile" state, but I'm here for you.

...but, ummmm...do NOT come back to me. I'm all stocked up on cuckoo.

However, I heard Daughtry just dumped his bitch and needs a new one...

Stupid Cupid

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Weekend Re-cap

1. Every "single" person who is looking to "date" or for a "serious relationship" and who cannot fathom the idea of possibly not being in a "relationship" should watch "How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days" for starters. (Other stuff like common sense may be a little over some heads, so pretty actors and actresses may help.) This applies to males and females.

Hint 1: Stalking and/or calling the person repeatedly will almost never endear you to the person whose affection you seek. If it does, RUN!

Hint 2: Although it wasn't in the movie, if the person you are "dating" has a spouse, things are also not looking very optimistic for you regarding the likelihood of a "serious relationship". If you have not learned that after say 3 years (as a completely random example) of fucking the married person, you are dumber than soup and deserve to be pointed and laughed at.

2. Men who come to the Costume/Anniversary party of your gay friends, dressed as a woman and act gayer than the gay hosts, are likely gay. No matter how many times they insist that they "like the vajayjay". They do...to shop with; not to have sex with. When all of your gay friends also doubt that said man "likes the vajajay", believe them...then go shopping.

Hint: If talking to alleged "straight" man suddenly makes Rupaul, Boy George, Elton John, and George Michael seem butch, your man likes the penis. Deal with it. Go shopping?

3. Thongs on men with pimples on their asses is just wrong. Taking pictures of it and making a game of it was funny until the 3rd pimpled, hairy ass.

*shivers*

Hint1: If you do not know the state of your ass, spare the world the photographic evidence that you lack manscaping skills and a gym membership.

Hint 2: Pictures that make women throw up on their keyboards are not particularly adorable.

Hint 3: At our age, it really has become more important that you provide us pictorial evidence that you are capable of an erection and lacking of a wookie bush. Spare us the ass pimples and ingrown ass hairs. Shave that shit or cover it up. Mmmmmkay pumpkins?

Hint 4: If your stomach is larger than your chest, no thong. Period.

Hint 5: If your stomach is larger than your penis, cry...then hit on that one chick who is dating the married dude. She's not at all particular.

4. If you are a waitress at a lake-side cafe on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, learn your job and the menu. Getting snippy with 4 chicks who just rode in the heat with head-winds and like a gazillion grasshoppers and crickets jumping at them are possibly exhausted and little freaked out. (Have you EVER seen so many effing jumping grasshoppers outside of a Hitchcock film?!?!?) Seriously. Your cafe is on a bike trail and the water is 20 steps away.

Hint 1: Telling us that we may have to "wait a while for our refills" is the wrong answer. You have 5 tables. You are in the service industry. We have all done your job. SERVE. You are not salary or union.

Hint 2: Working in a bar and rolling your eyes while claiming to not know the drink list because you usually "work weekdays" is a quick way to get your average looking, snotty ass back on the less-profitable weekday lunch shift. Get happy. Be nice. Wear mascara and a friggin' smile.

Hint 3: Sneering is not the same as smiling. Practice it.

5. Feet. Hmmmm...

Hint 1: That black stuff in the corner of your big toe nail? Yeah. It's supposed to be removed. Get on it.

Hint 2: If you have black stuff in the corner of your big toe nail, either A) you need to clip those futher muckers or B) you have stepped in poo. Either way, take care of it.

Hint 3: Bare feet on the inside windshield is effing gross. We don't want to see that shit. If your feet are so spectacular, get a dazzling pair of Blahniks and prove it. Putting those clammy, sweaty things on the glass is not only disgusting and redneck (despite the Lexus), but it is really rude to the owner/driver of the car...unless it is "that one dude", but then you'd be driving, now wouldn't you?

*snickers*

The Lazy Indifference of a Would-Be Stalker

I have been pondering lately whether I am lazy or just completely indifferent to certain things.

I guess the fact that I am now writing about it may point to a lack of laziness, but truth be known, I am sitting on my keister as I type this. (Though I am told that that is quite common and in most cases, preferred.)

I mean, who types in Tree Pose or Downward Facing Dog? (That would be a real bitch to accomplish.) I'm just saying. What? It would.

Anyway, back to my original point. I often do not know the changes that my friends have made to their MySpace pages. I often do not know which friends they have on their friend list. I often do not know if someone has replied to a comment I have left on a blog. I often don't read pages of people I see or who friend request me. I read their emails and that's pretty much it. Sometimes I look at their pics. Sometimes I "steal" their pics if we were all at the same event. (I seem to have gotten lazy about taking pictures. And honestly there are usually 5 cameras at any given event. Who needs another?)

Mostly my curiosity on the topic of lazy v. indifference is specific to men and dating.

*yawns*

Here's how it started...or at least how I started to figure it out...

A friend is moving from Hotlanta to Chicago. I love Chicago. It is pretty close to me and I go there quarterly. It is as close to my hometown of NYC that I can get at the moment. It's a bit like "NYC Lite". So of course I was excited by having another excuse to go up there. Something was mentioned about the yummy males of the city and I made a joke by saying, "...Ughhhh...I LOVE Chicago men! I can't wait until you move there so that I have another reason to stalk...errrr...I mean visit them..."

Then it hit me.

Dammit. I wish I had the energy to stalk. Or the interest.

I tried to think back to a time that any person had held my attention enough for me to want to find out anything about them.

I searched my mind...

I looked at my Google history...

(This gets scary...)

...Longview Farm Park...

...images for "manginas"...

...Sarah Silverman...

...800 pound gorilla...

...Alessandra Ambrosio...

...area code 208...

You get the point, yes?

Very sad.

Why do I not care enough to stalk?

I think men are hot.

I think they are sexy.

Why do I yawn about it more than not?

I met a nice guy on Saturday. We exchanged numbers. He called me 4 times in 6 hours. I have put zero effort into pursuing that. I don't know why. He is cute. He has a dog, a bike, and a kayak. He has his dog's pic on his phone. This makes me happy. He photographs well. Yet, I yawn, stretch and do nothing.

Am I really this bored by people?

A cute guy who is a friend of a friend sent me a friend request. He is balanced and sweet and lives in Colorado and rides a bike.

*yawns*

I am not actually yawning at him. Those things actually all appeal to me. Yet I have made zero effort in communicating with him.

Zero.

I know I am shy around the opposite sex sometimes, but come on. Gimme a friggin' break.

I literally almost never flirt anymore and actually come across a guy that I am attracted to in person very rarely. So far this year I have been physically attracted to TWO (yes the number 2) males who were non-celebrities.

One of those physical attractions got quickly watered down and flat out extinguished by the fact that the dude drove a red Porsche Boxster (yuck) and fucked a friend (now former-friend) of mine.

The other was the guy I met Saturday.

When I consider it, I realize it really wasn't a physical attraction. It was more rounded. I've gone back and looked at the photo he took of us. He's cute. The bike, dog, and kayak made him smokin'. Much like when a hot guy opens his mouth and is a complete assclown and is rendered immediately "un-hot", this guy was made hot by the other factors.

Be that as it may, I still have done nothing. Nothing.

Have I been brainwashed by Greg Behrendt?

Or am I a fan of Greg Behrendt because his philosophy has long been mine?

I just do not pursue men.

Period.

I rarely get giggly.

I assume that if the dude likes me, he'll let me know.

Women who stalk men are oft called psychos, bunny-boilers and loons, yet is there something wrong with me for having no inclination to stalk?

Why am I so disinterested in these men?

I explored whether it is possible I switched teams and no, I have not. (Much to the displeasure of my aunt who was hoping that I too would put on the Beaver Liquors team jersey.)

Nope.

Am I just bored of the game?

Fed up and discouraged by the ridiculousness of it all?

What does that mean?

Why do they all seem so very similar?

Are they?

Are these not the same men that I was once attracted to?

Does it mean that I have decided that I don't like them or that I simply could care less?

I want to be attracted to a man to the point where my stomach turns and I feel nauseous.

Instead, I feel nothing.

Not even a slight rumbling of gas.

I want to blush and sweat and giggle.

I want to be nervous.

I want to get goose-bumps.

Not that I want to be Kim Nowak and slap on some diapers and drive cross country for some dude who is just not into me, but I would love to feel passionately about maybe going to dinner and having a glass of wine perhaps.

A Secret Lover Is Trying To Get In Touch With You...

OK, I am going to go out on a limb here and say that if I had a secret lover, he would not be a secret to me.

...and if I don't yet know of him, can he really be my secret lover?

I mean, wouldn't that make him more of a bunny boiling/stalker type than a secret lover?

I happened upon this email in my spam box because one of my friend's emails keeps going in that box and so now I have to check it periodically.

There it was...

A secret lover is trying to get in touch with me.

Really?!?!

OH GOODY!

Does he have a fantastic dog, a bicycle and functioning penis?

Sign me up!

Still, if he's pimpin' his shit through the spam mail, he is likely to be a butter face and a garbage dick.

EWWWWWW! Gross!

The message said: "Your Secret Lover has instructed us to tell you they won't wait long for your response, so Click the link below to talk to them now!"

So my secret lover is also a lazy fucker who can't send his own effing emails and expects that I will snap to a response?

Clearly, this mystery man is unfamiliar with my particular brand of indifference.

Uh-oh, someone else may snatch up *snickers* my lazy lover and leave me with no secret love of my own!

Seriously, a man this lazy could not possibly be good in the sack.

*yawns and grabs vibrator*

Eh, at least I don't have to cuddle it after and it doesn't give me Dutch Ovens in the name of "fun".

((((bzzzzzzzzzzz))))