Saturday, March 5, 2011

My last 5 dates....

Love Translators,
   This has been my last 5 dates...

1) wanted me to drive b/c he didn't have a car

2) had three kids by three different women

3) thought the Gold Club would be an acceptable first date

4) texting: Guy: plans? Me: dying my hair. Guy: really? Me: yeah. Guy: what color? Me: I have to go now.

5) used the following pickup line: Guy: "You should come work for me!" Me: "Where do you work?" Guy: "Target" Me: "I have to go now."


If things don't get any better I'm going to give up. 
                                                                         Signed,
                                                                                Frustrated




Dear Frustrated,
   That's not the right attitude, Sparky! I think you're being too quick to judge. There might be some hidden gems in that list. You're just not thinking about it right. Let's review:
   Guy #1. So the guy doesn't have a car. How perfect. Pick his ass up, get some and drop his ass back off again. This guy could be the perfect standby booty call. You know he's always gonna be at home. You can even make him your "boyfriend". Or just tell him that he is and then you can go out and still fuck whoever you want. What's your Boyfriend gonna do, ride his bike over there and fight about it? Wait, did you look at this guy's  I.D.? He might be underage and living at his moms, which would be considered statutory which is just damn sexy. Why couldn't I have gotten statutory raped? Wait, I did. But you can't rape the willing. Because you can't fake a hard on.
   Guy #2. This guy is just collecting trophies. In the wild he would be a sought after mate because he is virile. He's a stud bull, spreading his seed like God damn well intended us to. How dare you look down on a man of God such as this. God's work is hard work.
   Guy #3. The Gold Club is a great first date. You can check out each other's bodies while you work up a sweat, grunting and groaning as you push....harder...Harder! He wanted to show you his massive biceps and titty balls. He wanted to impress you as he blew out his o-ring doing squats. Later on, you will be unimpressed by the size of his dick from all the steroid use. Oh wait...I thought you said Gold's Gym...What's wrong with the Gold Club? Everybody like lookin at titties.
   Guy#4. If this guy knew anything about women he would have known what color you were dying your hair. Some fucking shade of red. How do I know? Because all women want red fucking hair. There's this mistaken belief that you all look good with red hair. Where that came from I don't know, but just stop it. Red heads are gross. They're so milky I get lactose intolerant just looking at them. Red headed girls vaginas smell like they just got foot fucked by a sasquatch that just ran a marathon. I had a girl tell me once "I dye my hair because I just get bored with myself". Yeah well, if you bore yourself think about how WE feel.
   Guy #5. What? Fucking jackpot! Do you know how much cool shit is at Target? And he's a manager? He's a fucking baller! Shot Caller! 20% off manager's discount. He's the king like Jerry Lawler.




The best way to make spinach and feta manicotti is to start with quality pasta. This is a must. While your pasta is boiling (don't forget to add a little salt to the water, it adds flavor and raises the boiling temperature of the water) take a large bowl and mix your spinach and feta cheese. Feel free to throw in a little ricotta cheese if you are feeling crazy. Add the Italian spice trio (rosemary, thyme, and oregano) and pepper to taste. For your sauce always start with crushed tomatoes. The secret to a good sauce is a little red wine. Not too dry though, it will turn your sauce bitter. After your noodles are done just stuff your mixture into the noodles. Place them in a casserole dish, cover them with sauce and a little more cheese and bake for 35 minutes at 350. See, wasn't that more interesting that your stupid problems?
       In the list you provided there is only evidence I can see of one "date." Maybe I'm old fashioned but I don't consider a brief exchange of text messages a date yet you consider it two. Are you fifteen or just "special." If you are "special" then good for you, that picture you colored of Strawberry Shortcake is going on the fridge for sure, right by the report you wrote on tigers which you got an A- on. 
       According to you I went on fifteen dates last night with my waitress at Denny's. The seventh was the best, she said "Would you like more Dr.Pepper?" and I said "Yes." I think it may be love. Sorry to assault you with sarcasm but something has to get through helmet you are no doubt wearing. 
       Here is a thought: you can say "No." Try this on for size. "Hey girl, you want to go to the titty-bar?" "No, why don't we do something else." Look at that, a simple solution to the only actual date you went on. Yet you still waste my time. You see, every time I sit down to give a pathetic soul such as yourself advice I take a little part of the jewel-incrusted slice of heaven that is my brain and put it in your pocket. It is a gift from me to you that you can keep forever and I don't think you are worthy of such a prize.  
       Complaining about the guy not having a car just shows that you are a materialistic bitch. Get over yourself. Maybe his car was in the shop or maybe he just hit hard times. What's so fucking special about you. So what if he has three kids from three different women. The bible says it is better to spill your seed in the belly of a whore than upon the ground. You know that movie "I am number four?" Turns out it is about you. And so what if he works at Target? Have you seen the selection of sweaters they have? Pure as shit. I'm sure if he didn't have a job you would be begging him to go work at Target, especially when your baby comes. 
        The only thing I can assume is that he is hung like a dragon and makes you see little white lights in bed. If out of your "five dates" you only actually went somewhere once then the other four must have been you coming over to his house and servicing his man-needs. It's hard for me to feel sorry for you when you are still sticking around. You are just complaining (which should be an olympic sport for shallow hookers such as yourself) and doing nothing about it so eat shit and take your useless problems to the Pacific Ocean and throw them in the Challenger Deep. That way they can be as far from my ears as humanly possible. But I'm not sure that 36,000 feet of water is enough to keep your stupidity from offending me. You should shoot your problems into space so eventually when they reach an alien race they can learn what an ignorant cooze you are. 
         Hey, you want to go on a date later. At 9:30 i'll text you a picture of my dog taking a shit. My advice to you? Sew your mouth shut and cut off your fingers so you don't waste my time. Idiot. 

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