Friday, September 17, 2010

All Seven and We'll Watch Them Fall - Part 1

Hi folks!!

I wanted to write out a quick THANK YOU to all of the awesome comments I've been getting on my silly posts, you guys are awesome!  I was lax in responding to all of your kind comments to the last post, but please be assured that I am very appreciative of them!

So, as I mentioned briefly before, I've been challenged by the lovely Sara to do a "Seven Things" meme, wherein I list seven things about myself and the topic of my choosing.  After agonizing over possible topics and procrastinating for like two weeks now, I have finally decided on seven things that I know we ALL want to hear about: My dismal love life.

Yes, Mark, you have to hear about my dismal love life again.  Go cry in the corner why don't you!?

So, prepare yourself for a series of absolute horror, worthy of R.L. Stine's Goosebumps collection.  Remember my last post about landing a date at the bar?  Well, let's just consider this post to be an official DON'T list for actual dates as well.  These are in no particular order of badness, in my opinion they are all pretty weird.  Here we go!

1.  The Near Death (From Embarrassment) Experience
Date #1 was with a young man we shall call "Joe."  Joe and I had been friends for quite a while, and this friendship was completely based on being as rude and snarky to one another as we could.  But, one night we decided that sarcasm might actually equal chemistry, so we decided to get dinner and a movie, which, as you all know, is code for "DATE NIGHT!!!"

So, I get all dolled up and ready to go.  This date began at a lovely Japanese restaurant in Uptown Minneapolis. Now, back then I wasn't exactly practiced in the art of eating sushi, so my anxiety was sky-high as I desperately tried to maintain my dignity while dropping sushi rolls all over the place.  Meanwhile, Joe was wolfing down his sushi by sticking whole rolls in his mouth!  I made a comment about how lucky he was to have such talent, and naturally this led to a challenge.

Never one to back down from a challenge, I prepare to stuff an entire sushi roll in my delicate mouth just to prove him wrong.

That's supposed to be me with a full mouth.. You know, like a squirrel.
So far so good... Chew. Chew. Try to swallow.  Chew. Chew.  I'm starting to wonder why I still have so much food in my mouth, and why I can't seem to swallow anything...Chew. Chew.

What the hell?!

Then, I make the huge mistake of looking at Joe's face:

The head cock is always a bad sign.

Seeing a man's eyes bug out of his head and the "head cock"* that always means something seriously wrong is happening did NOT help my ability to swallow, needless to say.

And then, I do the unthinkable.

I'm sure all of you are going to run out and get sushi right about now.  Yum!
Niiiiiiice.  I hope he feels good about himself.

I learned my lesson about sticking too much food in my mouth at once, and I think Joe did too.  No more dates for us!

*Editor's Note:  Don't think the irony has escaped me of using the words "head", "cock", and "swallow" together in the same sentence without it being remotely sexual.  Sweet!

2.  Excuse Me, But the Wood Ticks and I Would Like a Room.

Date #2 was with a guy we'll call "Jeremy" who I had been dating for about five months.  Our relationship was coming to a fizzling close, and as a last ditch effort, Jeremy tried to plan a "romantic" date for the two of us in the "wilderness".

Just a little bit of background for those who may not know me very well: I am NOT an outdoorsy girl.  I hate being too hot or too cold, I hate sitting on prickly grass, I hate wind that blows my hair around, and I HATE HATE HATE bugs!  Especially bugs that attach themselves to your body, feed on my precious blood, grow to the size of a goddamn bowling ball, and give you potentially fatal diseases.

What?  This was taken from Wikipedia.  Swearsies.
For the uninformed, of course I am talking about ticks, which unfortunately make an appearance in the lovely Minnesota hinterland every summer.

Jeremy picks me up and begins to drive out in the middle of nowhere, and of course won't tell me where.  He claims he knows of a "special spot" out in the country that I will surely like!  (Um, yeah.  Doubtful.)  We stop at the most romantic eatery in the area, Dairy Queen, and make our way to this "special spot".

Finally, we've arrived (after my hamburger has practically rotted in its packaging from waiting around forever)!  We pull into a dirt parking lot, and I'm expecting some grand waterfall or beautiful river scene!


Not quite.  What we did see was a large dam with bright yellow water, combined with a stinky rotten egg smell that is characteristic of sewage and extreme flatulence after eating Mexican food.

"Hmmm.  This isn't what I remembered," said Jeremy, scratching his head.  "Let's try a different spot".

So, we go traipsing into the sewage dump, me in my high heels and Jeremy practically running in front of me, until we get to a "lovely" spot by a tiny little river.. And by lovely, I mean a small grassy knoll with bushes in front of it, which thankfully had little open spots for our heads in case we got the whim to look at the "river".

Can you guess which one is me?  Hint: The really unhappy one.

As I'm sitting on my jacket, enjoying my cold hamburger, soggy french fries, and awkward conversation, I get another welcome visitor!

Probably the more interesting party in this date.

And another... And another!

I screamed.  French fries flew in the air, and I was up and running back to the car as if lightning struck me in my ass.

That was the beginning of the end for Jeremy and me.  SIGH.

3. The Dash

This one is short and sweet.

Date #3: Dave.

We met at a restaurant for Happy Hour drinks and apps.  Of course Dave chose a seat in front of a television so he could watch one of the many sucky Minnesota sports teams get pulverized on the field.  While a barrage of interesting stories fell from my lips, they were all lost on Dave, who could barely tear his eyes away from the TV long enough to stick a chicken wing in his mouth.  He would actually grope the table as he felt around for his beer glass, just so he wouldn't miss a single second of Minnesota Twins annihilation.

Then, his phone rings.  Normally this wouldn't bother me.. Well, not unless the purpose of the phone call is to plan another date.  I actually hear Dave say the words, "Oh, yeah, I'm actually going to be free here any minute.  I'll come pick you up for the movie!"

"Who was that??"  I ask.

"Oh, a girl I'm kind of dating on the side, Katie."


Not pictured: Dave, as he left so quick I don't even remember what he looked like.
I'm not proud of this, but I may have "flipped him the bird" before the "date" was over.

Well, not "may have"... DID.

But he's lucky I didn't punch him in the face.

4. The Therapy Session

Sometimes, I decide to do things that are really impulsive and stupid, that I almost always end up regretting later.  One of those times was at a pleasant dinner with a friend at Olive Garden... One which ended in giggling, drunkenness, and my phone number left on a dirty napkin on the table for the waiter.

Instead of just chalking it up to my drunkenness (which was not difficult to see, given the number of pitchers of sangria that were ordered that night), this poor young man decided to call me when he got home from work that day.  By this time, I had sobered up and was immensely embarrassed by my stupid behavior.  Out of sheer humiliation and guilt, I agreed to meet the waiter at a bar for a drink (Just ONE!!).

Big mistake.  Once the waiter discovered that I was a therapist, he decided it was a good idea to tell me every traumatic thing that had ever happened to him.  Turns out, this young man had a horrible life!  Relations with Dad?  Shit.  Relations with Mom?  Bigger shit.  Siblings?  Can't talk to them, due to horrible relations with Mom.  SHIT!!

I learned that he was dumped by his last girlfriend, went crazy and... Well, I'll maintain some semblance of respect for him and not tell the rest.  Suffice to say these are things one does NOT want to hear about when on a first date with someone they don't know, and seriously called into question this young man's mental stability.

What started out as a harmless and casual date at the bar turned into an impromptu therapy session, complete with the waiter bursting into tears and telling me about his monstrous medical bills and his car that won't start.

So what did I do?

Got seriously, seriously drunk.

The first 15 minutes.
Two hours later.

5. The AD/HD Song and Dance Man

Date #5: Jake.

Location: The picture of romance, the bowling alley.

Jake is a musician, whose aspirations far outweigh his talents, as evidenced by the song and dance routine I was subject to on our date.  I have since learned that Jake suffers from AD/HD, so maybe it's unfair of me to poke fun at him, but this experience really goes down on my list as one of the dumbest interactions I have ever had with a date.

Jake was kind of an odd character to begin with, but he was intriguing to me because of his quirky personality.  We decided it would be fun to go bowling, and to name ourselves "Reagan" and "Gorbachev" and see if we could change history.  (We didn't.)

Jake decides to order a "Manhattan" cocktail at the bowling alley bar, which, as you can imagine, is not a terribly popular drink at such a location.  They put it in a martini glass with a twisty stem, which Jake proceeded to drink with his pinkie in the air.  And it wasn't a joke.

The game was over.  The drink was still 3/4 full.  And then the singing started.

It was around Christmas time, so Jake had decided to write a little holiday song about a young man named "Alfie, the Jewish Elf."  It was a nice little holiday tune, but it dragged on.  And on.  And on.

Just imagine: Baby sips, a pinkie in the air, and Jake's little head bopping around with his eyes squeezed shut Rachel Barry-style*, singing, "Alfie!!  The Jewish Elf!!!!  La la la la la!!"

Santa voice: "Hey Alfie, why are your tops so straight?!"

Alfie voice:  "Those are my dreidels, Santa!!"

Cough cough.

The song never did quite end, for Jake continued to think up new verses as the Manhattan was slowly dwindling down to its last drops.  The rest of the date went like this:

Me: "So, what are you doing this weeke--"

Jake: "Alfie, the Jewish Elf,..  Doo doo da da da deee doo da!"

Me: "Um, are you listening to m--?"

Jake: "Alfie, why are there so many candles on your candelabra??"

Okay, so this is like the worst drawing ever, and Jake is like half my size.  Let's just pretend that HE is in fact Alfie the Jewish Elf. I was tired.  Shut up.


In homage to my favorite play, "This lot is filled with mother fucking artists!!!" (Prize to whoever gets it??)

End scene.

*Um, Rachel Barry from Glee.  Duh.  I HATE it when she squeezes her eyes shut when she sings.  HATE. IT.  And it's probably because of this date.


In the interest of not having this post be as long as an Elizabeth Hasselbeck rant, I am going to stop here for now.  Stay tuned for dates 6 and 7, and have an AWESOME weekend!


grumpy said...

Gah - Rachel drives me nuts too. Why doesn't someone TELL her?

Anonymous said...

Really enjoyed this post- your drawings are perfect and the stories are hilarious, though in a way that makes me feel really guilty for laughing!! Can't wait to check back for further instalments!

Jing said...

I love reading the stories of your dates... reminds me of one time when a guy tried to take me to Doc Greens (a create-your-own-salad place) for a first date and definitely struck out there because I cannot stand salad dressing, so I'm not a big salad fan. Maybe 6 will go better for you and lead to 7!

Sara said...

I'm so glad I passed this on to you!!! Worst dates always seem so never ending, don't they?? I'm so fucking thankful I tricked one into staying with me so I don't have to go through that shit anymore.

carissajade said...

hahaha I love this so much. I find pleasure that I'm not the only one with ridiculous dates... I hope that is ok. I LOVE your blog!

Inky said...

Bi, you're fantastic! Thanks so much for finding me! :)