post partum

After our third date where Dan came unhinged over my unwillingness to spend the night, I honestly figured I would never hear from him again. I already had a short trip planned to visit family, and gladly hopped on the plane to get away from the insanity of the whirlwind un-romance.

As I de-briefed my fam on the wild ride that is Dan's emotional instability, I realized the best part of my time with Dan was trapped on his phone. On our third date he captured me and this delightful elderly raver doing the robot together. I really wanted this footage. I debated the risk of texting Señor non compos mentis to ask him for the video, or if I should just let it go because that's what that frozen chick would tell me to do.

Well I hemmed and hawed, and ultimately decided to text Dan.  What's the worst that could happen? He doesn't reply? No loss if you don't have it to begin with.  *deep breath*

Is there any way you could email me the video of me dancing with that lady? I'd love to see if if you still have it. 

*hit send*

Ok if he doesn't text back that's fine. A few hours later...

He replies! He will send it! And he does! Aaaand he has an iPhone which apparently takes shitty video. Ugh. My video is clear and you can see the lady and her intense dance moves (thank you superior camera of the Galaxy S9). His video you can't even really tell that there are two people in the video; you just see a few blinky lights floating in the blackness. Ugh. All that worry and making contact for nothing. Oh well. Moving on!

but doing the Robot with a elderly raver probably WON'T happen twice!! 😭

Except...

A few days later he reaches out - How was your trip? 

I'm sorry, what? Did you get amnesia? We ended our last date where you were YELLING at me that I had insulted your family. For some reason, I replied. I should have just not ever responded, but for some reason I thought he was maybe trying to restore his reputation in my eyes, apologize for yelling, or at least make nice so we end things on good terms.  I have a flaw in that I almost always have to respond to a text, even if I don't like you.

Just at the Chicago airport now. 

No reply. Ok good. He got the message. Until he didn't. The following evening he texted asking if I had gotten back safely, and that he would like to see me soon, and he's at an art walk if I'm not doing anything right now.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DAN!?!?!!??

I am as clear as I can possibly be:

I'm home. I don't think we are looking for the same things in a relationship. It is probably best if we go our separate ways. 

Because I am not looking for a psychopath as a life partner, so, best you keep looking sir.  His response is truly a must-see-to-believe, so here are images of his actual text messages that followed.

telling me how I "should" have been

Text translation: I think you know better. I think we might have a difference as far as timing, but that's about it. It worries me that you draw that conclusion. All I said was to keep the physical out of things. We should be friends. You should've been totally agreeable to that if you were at all sincere, but as soon as you can't have your cake and eat it too, then you want to call it quits.

"shame" on me for making "assumptions"

What we have here is textbook codependent manipulations. What can a woman expect from a guy like this? A whiny narcissistic asshole that won't let you have friends, makes you feel bad for having an opinion, and explains any problem you might have with any of the above as your fault. My friends were up in arms, wanting to beat him up, how could Dan say my head was up my ass? Honestly, to me, that one of the least offensive things he said. The worst are the more subtle accusations of how I am a terrible person. (Which, to be fair, I did insult his family, so really I am a terrible person. LOL)

I never responded. Somehow I got over my impulse to reply to everything and everyone, because people like Dan feed on attention. My non-doctor diagnosis: Dan is a manipulative narcissistic personality disorder. Here is a great article that highlights every red flag I saw and every tactic he used on me at one point or another.

Lesson learned here? Look yourself up in the White Pages, then contact them to get your listing removed. Apparently some of us need a psychopathic date to realize we shouldn't have our info just out there for anyone to stalk us. But you don't need that.  There's no reason the whole internet needs to know where you live, who your family members are, where they live, all their contact info, etc. If they really want to stalk you, at least make them pay for a background check.

*Dan didn't stalk me, he never contacted me again after that last text, I never ever felt in danger physically when I was with him, but better safe than sorry*

date three, set your crazy free

At the end of our second date, I still had teensy reservations about Dan. Mostly that he seemed to be feeling so very much more feelings so very much more quickly than me. I was developing an affinity for Dan, but we had spent a grand total of about 6 hours together thusfar and I was still warming up.

For our third date, when it came time to figure out what we were going to do, Dan wanted me to come over to his place for dinner and (half of) a movie. No thank you Dan I know the code and I am not ready for the intimacy that snuggling on the couch, smooching and the inevitable naked grope sesh that is ordering dinner and watching netflix.

I would much rather go to a public place and DO something. This is only our third date, after all. I still need to be woo'd and I don't want a relationship where all we ever do is sit on the couch and watch shows. If you set the precedent early, it is onerously hard to break the habit.

I suggest going to see Marty & Elayne at the Dresden (made famous by the movie Swingers) or an improv show at iO West or the Groundlings. Dan says he doesn't want to do those things but how about dancing? Yes! Sure! That sounds fun and not code for sex. He requests I meet him at his place for a drink first (for fuck's sake Dan) and then we can walk, ride share or he can drive to one of several dancing spots he knows. I don't know anywhere to go dancing that isn't horribly douchey, way too loud inside to talk, filled with coked out models and requires the purchase of a $700 bottle of shitty alcohol to have a place to sit down so I acquiesce to coming downtown.

Why yes, this bottle has been secretly refilled with Popov

I arrive at his place (the one above the restaurant where he had me meet him on our first date) and am re-annoyed at the self-serving/laziness of our first date meeting spot and simultaneously am glad for it since it seems to be one of the few places downtown that has street parking available.

Dan is woefully underprepared with drink mixers, but manages to fix me something palatable. How is he so ill-equipped when this is the date he suggested.... but I digress.  I watch him make it because he is technically still a stranger and this is dating in LA. I don't need to be roofied or killed. We chill at his place for about an hour, which is sparsely but nicely appointed and has an air of bachelor-ness without smelling like gym socks and loneliness. We put on shoes (he was twitchy about me taking more than half a step in his apartment wearing shoes) and headed out.

We grabbed a ride share to the first spot. It was completely dead inside. (insert joke here about being dead inside) Instead of hanging out with the 8 or 12 people in this bar, we walk to the next spot he has in mind. The next place has an $8 cover and is playing deeply genre-specific music. I like most types of music, but I think Dan and I both were thinking of something more like a DJ with varied music styles. We hike over to where his car was parked and he drove us to the third spot, which was a perfect mix of great DJ, not too crowded, and spots to sit and chat in between cutting rugs.

luckily I was wearing my jogging heels

There was a taco truck outside, and he said he was hungry. We grabbed tacos and ate standing on the street, talking about the real sh*t life is about - kids, the future, love languages, who we are, what we are looking for in a partner, etc. We seem to be on the same page about nearly everything... maybe this could really work between us...

Inside the DJ is playing a fun eclectic set, there is a vintage photo booth that uses real film, and the vibe is great. We order a drink and decide to take some pix. If Dan is going to be someone I date for a while or forever, how great would it be to have photo evidence of our third date, the date where it really solidified? We are adorbs in our pix.

We hit the dance floor and the DJ is slaying with a fun mix of music styles, genres and beats from several different eras. Dan can really boogie down and isn't afraid to be free on the dance floor. He also isn't using this as the opportunity to grope and squeeze, which is refreshing.

After a bit of time on the dance floor, we escape to the bar to rest for a minute. He asks if I want another drink. I've had one at his place, and one at the bar, so I decline. I have a huge day the next day, plus I want to keep my wits about me. We refresh with water and hit the dance floor again.

We are having fun! There is a woman there who I would estimate to be about 60, getting funky and wearing an ensemble of various types of "glow" sticks. I took a great video of her. Then she sees me... and one of the greatest moments of my life... she and I do the robot together. For a solid 2-3 minutes. Dan captures our robots in all their glory on his phone. This date is turning into one of the greatest nights!

Dancing with glow-lady was amazing, but I needed another rest. We found respite in a booth, and canoodled in. This when red flag number (2? 3? a zillion?) whatever popped up.

I want to take care of you.

He says, staring into my eyes. I nervously look away, "um, ok... thanks?"

What's wrong? Be honest with me. 

"Well, I don't know what you mean by that. Do you want to be my sugar daddy? Do you want to give me orgasms? What does 'take care of' mean to you?"

I want us to take care of each other, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Does this mean orgasms? Well, yes, but that is only a part of it. A relationship should encompass all these things. 

Hmm... Ok, I mean, that is odd phrasing, but that is what I am looking for when you come right down to it. I want a partner, and that does comprise all those areas. "Oh. Ok, well, then, I want that too."

Actually, there is more to it than this, but it is sweet sentiment.

We hit the dance floor one more time. At this point I'm sweaty and my jogging heels are starting to reach their limits of comfort, so I lead us back to the bar for more hydration. Dan has become more and more physically and verbally intimate with me throughout the evening (read: handsy with adulation), and by this point he is completely devoted to me. He says something over the top complimentary, to which I reply, "I bet you say that to all the girls." Dan says he doesn't. "Uh, huh, sure you do. You say that to all the girls!" I say, as I bat my eyelashes and twirl my hair around my finger. (I never claimed to be good at flirting) Dan says he needs air and abruptly gets up and goes outside.

I sit at the bar and sip my ice water, wondering what is happening. Did Dan overheat? I'm pretty close to that myself after all this dancing. Does he smoke and I didn't realize? Is he going to get high? Does he suffer from sensory overload? Was it something I said? Did he need to take a phone call? Panic attack?

After several minutes, Dan comes back inside. He is visibly upset. Like, not in tears, but maybe he was outside.

C'mon, lets dance.

Whoah there buddy. What's going on? Are you ok?  Something is going on with you.

It's just that I don't say that to all the girls. I told you before, I mean what I say and I say what I mean. You're not like any other girl. I really mean the things I say to you. 

WHAT THE FUCK, DAN 

You're practically in tears because I teased you? Because I attempted flirting? (poorly, yes I know; we covered that already) I walk him back from the ledge, reminding him that teasing is one of my love languages, and I don't really think he actually says that to every girl, and I didn't mean to make him upset.

DING DING MOTHERF*CKING DING

Despite the blazing red flag, I wasn't done with Dan yet.... partially because he said, yes, he knows, he just got a bit upset because he really likes me and doesn't want me to think he is dating anyone else or is interested in anyone else. He actually really loves my sassy side. Conversation moves on, and returns to seemingly normal status.  Maybe he's just a sensitive artist type?

Then Dan says he wants to ask me to spend the night tonight, but knows I will say no. I agree, stating my giant day the next day and really needing to get sleep. Dan says, well then I better get you back to your car. It is late-ish, and think of how sweet and thoughtful he is now being. He really is very kind and considerate.

We hop in his car and the ride back is filled with laughter, teasing, and overall some of the best conversation we've had all night. No weird overtures of "I want us to take care of each other," just regular banter.

Dan pulls up in front of my car, and we smooch a bit before I start to gather my purse to leave.

Can I ask why you won't come up to my apartment? I want us to take care of each other. 

There is is again. I weigh the options of copping out with the "big day tomorrow" or being vulnerable and honest. I'm trying to be better about communication, so ... "Well Dan, I view spending the night with someone as a very intimate thing, and I'm just not quite there yet."

It was as though a switch got flipped. He pulled about as far away as a person can in a car, crossed his arms over his chest and wouldn't make eye contact.

Oh, I see. Well, we can just be friends then. 

I'm sorry, what? No, that's not what I-

No, no, that's cool. We can just be friends.

How did you make that leap? I just want to get to know you more; I wasn't saying only be friends, its just that I'm not ready to spend the night.

Oh, yeah? When do you think you will be ready? In six months? A YEAR?  

...I don't put a timeframe on these things, I don't count dates or days or months, it is just a feeling of intimacy and when I am ready to share that with someone.

Oh ok, ok. I see how it is. We'll just be "friends" and you can let me know when you are "ready." I THOUGHT we were going to take care of each other. I thought we liked each other. I THOUGHT we understood each other. 

Listen bro, we've only had 3 dates, spent a total of maybe 12 hours together. I mean, if you just want to go upstairs and bang, then let's go. We can just go fuck if that's all you're looking for. But I actually like you, and wanted to take the time to get to know you.

MY PARENTS SLEPT TOGETHER AFTER THEY HAD ONLY KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR THREE HOURS. YOU JUST INSULTED MY FAMILY!!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK, DAN!!!! (yes, I actually said this out loud this time!) I am not your mother and this is not your parents situation!

No, no, no, you're right. You're right! I'm sorry!! I'm sorry... It's just that you are being so unreasonable! 

...My first instinct is to defend myself. Me?? Unreasonable??? I am not the unreasonable one in this situation. Far from it.  But I have the car door open and one leg is already out of the car at this point. Dan's freak flag is flying so boldly I want to get as far away from it as possible. So I just say, "you know what, you're right. I am."

So that's how its going to be then. That's it.  

Yes, yes it is.

And I get all the way out of Dan's car and into mine. He roars off. I assume that is the last I will ever see or hear from Dan again.

As my middle school teacher used to say, when you "assume" you make an "ass" out of "u" and "me."

**sidebar: sadly, the photos from the booth were left at the bar. They were real film, and were wet when they came out of the machine so we set them aside to dry. And there they stayed.***

Botox, baby

I have never claimed to be a fashionista, or an advertising maven, or costuming expert. I have my basic uniform of t-shirt and jeans that I wear most days, swapping out for a tank in the hottest days and a button down shirt or plain sweater in the winter. It's pretty basic (but not BASIC, uhm-kayyyy??).

So even though we have now thoroughly established I'm no clothing expert, I am appalled every time the Botox for migraines ads come on TV. The lead gal they cast is *basically* (pun intended) beautiful, and does a reasonable job pretending to walk around migraine-free.

"I need a venti soy half-caff extra hot PSL stat!"

But. Her. Outfit. It is the most unflattering, ugly, horrendously dated frumpy thing I've ever seen. Boxy, blousy, too-big, droopy button down shirt tucked in to frumpy, pleated, too-big, cankle-length khaki pants.

Maybe if I put my hands on my waist you'll know I have one...

They have taken a reasonably attractive woman who likely has a "perfect" body under that mess and made her look like a lumpy dumpy homely frump-meiser. That costumer should be fired! S/he obviously has a grudge against this poor lady who is just trying to make a dollar for herself by doing a really stupid Botox ad.

*just think about the paycheck. smile for the paycheck. moneymoneymoneymoney*

I mean, look at this woman! She more than likely has a body most women would kill for and you can't even see it under all those pleats and poufy clothes. She might not have migraines anymore but she has a headache from looking at herself in the mirror.

spamalot

so I got this email the other day...

And I was reminded of this brilliant troller of trolls...

And for a brief moment considered writing back Mister John Fola. But I couldn't decide which tactic to take -

I didn't realize I had helped you before? I must have been in a fugue state and not been aware of what I was doing. I am glad that despite my apparent hypnosis I was able to assist with the funds transfer. I would be glad to accept the small stipend of One million five hundred thousand United States Dollars, but I fear I will not know what to do with it unless I am fugue-ing again. Do you happen to know any good hypnotists? 

Or perhaps to say -

I'm sorry to say I seem to have forgotten you. I must have amnesia. Are we friends? Business associates? How did we meet? Why am I trying to help you? How is it that little 'ole me could help such an esteemed person as you? I do want to experience the joy with you after safeness (at least I think I do) but feel a little uncomfortable since I don't remember who you are. Please do not take offense, I do not mean to hurt your feelings by not remembering you, but feel that since you are offering me One Million Five Hundred Thousand United States Dollars I should at least be honest with you.  

But ultimately I don't have the same kind of spare time as the guy in the video, and opted to just delete my entire spam folder full of crap.

 buh-bye One Million Five Hundred Thousand United States Dollars...

offsides chick

Sometimes I google old boyfriends. Just to see. Not my proudest moments, but... whatever. Like you've never done anything embarrassing. I'm not sure what made me think of him, but the other day I decided to look up Chris (fka "Todd" on this blog, but I don't give a shit about protecting his identity anymore). He doesn't do social media except for his sportscaster personality page on FB and a work twitter. And he has a common name so even if he did, I wouldn't necessarily be able to find his personal accounts.

After we ended things back in January 2015, I saw some tweet that made me think he was dating his co-worker the traffic gal at his TV News station. The tweet just said she was pretty, which could have been nothing, but... my gut said otherwise. At the time I wondered if he started dating her after we broke up or if she was the reason for the breakup. Of course she also has a very common name, so I can't find her anywhere on social media either except for her professional page... until the other day when I decide to google their two names together. *side note - I should teach a class on google stalking* And I find their "The Knot" page. They are getting married this summer.

I quickly click over to the "about us" section and see they have been dating since approximately May 2014. Chris and I dated Sept 2014 - Jan 2015. I even double check my old calendar to make sure. Yep. There's my flights to Seattle, his flight to LA, our dates, everything. I feel sick. This is the guy that wanted to spend Christmas with me and my family. But is also the guy who also wouldn't tell his parents about me because he "didn't like his parents nosing in his relationships."

And for a little light reading...

Here is the post about when we met.

Here is the post about our "first dates".

And the one where we were over.

Now the thing is, I was good with the whole situation. I had long ago made peace with the fact that we were not supposed to be together, that long distance was a much too difficult way to begin a relationship, that I deserved someone who made me a priority. I still feel that way. But now it is thrust upon me that I was inadvertently and unknowingly a side-chick.

did NOT know. *facepalm*

Mostly I feel badly for her. I don't know if she knows about me. I don't know anything about their relationship, but in general by the 5 month mark things are fairly serious and perhaps the "L" word has even been bandied about. They would have been dating about 5 months when he started things with me and seemingly juggled two "schmoopies" for a while. If it were me, I would want to know.

where is all started, and the happy couple

For their sake I hope I was a one-time-couldn't-resist-my-charms-fell-momentarily-in-love-but-then-realized-the-error-of-his-ways fluke and he is true to her now. As for me, I'm going to review my intuition see if it needs an overhaul.

how to be a hipster

If you are a dude, wear a boyfriend sweater, a slouchy zip up hoodie, a floppy beanie, don't ever shave or cut your hair or shower. OR, dress like a girl; skinny jeans, shorts with tights underneath, tank top, and Blossom hat.

If you are a girl, pretty much anything that gives you cankles, midriff shirts, overalls with one side unhooked (ala Will Smith circa Fresh Prince and this top model) and anything your mother wore to work in the 90s.

The current trends of hideous fashion - mom jeans, doc martins, large floral prints, overalls - makes me think that millenials are even dumber than we give them credit for. Learn from our mistakes young'uns. We wore hideous fashions so you don't have to. That's the way fashion is supposed to work. You need to find your own hideous fashion choices so your children can know what not to wear.

I think this makes me old... I just want to wear what I want to wear, fashion be damned. Give me my comfy jeans and t-shirts and classic black pants and heels that will never be out of style (or really in style either I guess) and I'll look down my nose at you young people who look ridiculous.

Take me BACK!

You might remember that I thought one of the tinderdudes was going to be boyfriend material. I was going to write the whole saga, but then I realized it was long and drawn-out and I didn't want to give any more effort to a guy not worth my time.

Borrring

Let's just say he couldn't handle life and a relationship at the same time and leave it at that.

As I return to the tinders however, I am rethinking things and considering begging him to take me back...

the little tyke just won't stay down...

His "about me" is incomplete. It should be "...camping, fishing, reading, football, ... drowning small children."

At first I thought he was attempting a funny face (and failing) but after looking at the rest of his pictures I realized his face got frozen this way. His mother should have warned him.

He's 34... right. And I'm 17. I mean, there's someone for everyone, right? Even vegan satanists. I'm pretty sure the southern Baptists I grew up with think everyone in California is like this dude.

And this guy I'm fairly certain is homeless and lives near the freeway underpass by my house.

Dear Tinderdude that was almost my BF,
PLEASE for the love of all things Tinder, take me BACK!!!
Maybe you'll grow up one of these days and be a man. I'll take my chances! Thank you.
Sincerely,
Willing to Settle (but not totally)

all the playas in the house STAND UP

I'm still on Tinder... (sighs)

But despite the fact that Tinder for women is 99% fugly-dudes and Tinder for men is a gorgeous-lady-playground, I remain hopeful that I can find my prince on this thing. I've been dating a couple of guys from there, and one of them is even a front runner for titleholder "boyfriend," but I find it best not to put all my eggs in one basket.

In my profile, I say I'm only interested in meeting in person, so don't swipe me unless you want to meet me also. So when I matched with a moderately-not-unattractive guy and his first message to me was

I'd LOVE to meet you in person!

I replied with

I love that you'd love to meet in person!

He hastily got to the business of setting up the date. We exchanged numbers and began texting. I was slightly put off because he called me "babe" in his first text. But... I am nothing if not forgiving. (hey! stop laughing!) He suggests coffee, I offer to meet in the afternoon, and he asks if we can do morning instead. My only morning plans were a yoga class, so I decided to forgo my ohmshanti in favor of ohmcoffee. He tells me just to tell him where to be and he will be there.

Showers, puts on make up, picks a cute "just threw this on" outfit...

 #wokeuplikethis

*cut to: Starbucks, 5 minutes before the time Tinderman McJerkathon requested*

I enter Starbucks and look around. He's not here yet. Hmm... do I wait so we can order/stand in line together? Or do I just go ahead and grab a coffee and sit and wait? I opt for the second one and grab a table outside in the shade. I check his Tinder pic one more time to make sure I know what he looks like. I peruse Facebook. I check my bank account balance. Look at email. Check the time. 10:05. He's late. Harumph. But only five minutes. He was coming all the way from Malibu, after all.

I look more at Facebook. Damn I have a lot of friends with kids on the first day of school. 10:10AM. No text, no message, no call. WTF. This guy is getting five more minutes and he better have a damn good reason for being late.

10:15AM MOTHERFUCKER. I SKIPPED YOGA CLASS, GOT DOLLED UP AND PAID $5 FOR COFFEE AND YOU DON'T EVEN BOTHER TO TEXT ME TO LET ME KNOW YOU'RE NOT COMING??? A litany of "expressive" texts come to mind but I don't send one, because you know the second you snark out a text an even better one emerges in your head. I fume the whole 5 minutes home.

I mean, what the f*ck??? He's the one that wanted to meet me. He's the one who picked the time. He's the one who didn't show up!?!?!? I look just like my pictures. If he drove up and saw me it's not like he would be surprised by what I look like and have second thoughts about meeting me.

Never in my life... Finally I decided to just take the high road and all I did was unmatch from him on Tinder. Jerk.

it's not easy being green

Why is it that all the stuff that is better for us (as people, as a planet) is more expensive and/or harder to get?

Arco/BP is usually the cheapest gas, but they spill all over my oceans.

Organic food is healthier, but always more expensive than pesticide ridden foods.

Hybrid and electric cars are better than gas-guzzlers, but also more expensive than the fossil fuel alternatives.

Vegan substitutes are generally more expensive than their global-warming-animal counterparts.

Bio/plant-based cleaners are more expensive than the chemical-laden ones.

Styfrofoam and plastic are cheaper than the biodegradable containers.

Recycled stuff usually more expensive than non-recycled stuff. 

And on and on...

I just recently found out that I have the option for renewable energy through LADWP. So, instead of horribly polluting/environmentally irresponsible coal and nuclear power, I can choose renewable energy from sources such as biomass & waste (stuff we are throwing away anyway, so surely free) and wind (free, courtesy of God/Allah/The Universe/Mother Nature). Yipee! This makes me so happy, because global warming is some serious shit and according to leading scientists, pretty much almost too late.  

HOWEVER, this option, that will help our planet, is .03 cents per kilowatt more expensive. WTF. (sigh) So you mean to tell me that by using *free* stuff to power my home I have to pay approximately $5-15 MORE per month?? Tell me how this makes any sense.

*eyeroll*

*does it anyway*

Sing it, Kermit.

global shit storm

I've been reading several articles lately on global warming and how the shit is hitting the fan a lot sooner than originally predicted. And that we are basically f*cked as a planet, unless we make some severe changes, like, RIGHTNOW. And I am reminded of a story that I must have heard as a kid in church or somewhere jesus-y.

I swear, this was a huge iceberg a second ago.

The story goes that there is a huge rain, and it starts to flood. The streets are filling with water such that regular cars cannot drive through them. A devout christian man is essentially trapped at his house because he has no vehicle. A guy comes with a big truck and offers to give him a ride to higher ground.  Homeboy says, "No thanks, I don't need a ride Mr. Stranger. God is going to save me."

Well, the rains keep coming and the water gets higher. Homeboy has to move into the second floor of his house because the water is so high.  A group in a boat comes by and offers him a ride to higher ground.  Homeboy says, "No thanks, I don't need a ride group of Strangers. God is going to save me."

The rains keep coming, and homeboy has to move to his roof due to flooding of the second floor. But he has faith. He just knows God will save him! And a helicopter comes by and offers to throw him a rope ladder to save him! And homeboy says, "No thanks, I don't need your helicopter ride. You see, GOD is going to save me!"

As you can imagine, Homeboy drowns. And when he gets to heaven, he comes before God and says, "God, I am a good Christian man, faithful my whole life. I prayed for you to save me, but you let me die! How could you do this?" To which God says, "You idiot. I sent you a truck, a boat and a helicopter! You refused all three!"

*facepalm*

I feel like that is what is happening with Global Warming. When the shit really starts to hit the fan, the evangelists are going to have a field day. But when they get to heaven and ask God why he didn't save them from the dying oceans, the horrific weather patterns, the crash of the ecosystem, he is going to say, "You idiot! I sent scientists telling you what was happening, congresspeople and senators to introduce bills that would limit emissions, and inventors to create products and services that would protect earth."

f*ckin idiots.

OohLaLa

For those of you who are blissfully unaware of the Tinders - maybe you're married or cohabbing or living under a rock - let me give you a sneak peek into the WTF world of

App Dating

Tinderland, where you look at someones picture(s) and whatever they have chosen to share or not share about themselves (in 500 characters or less) and click the red X for "aww HELL no" or the green heart for ummm maybe yes, but if we get to know each other a bit I still might say "aww HELL no". 

Some of my more scintillating options

If you both select the green heart, you match! Which means you can now message each other! And if they are not what you expected... then you can unmatch from them and they can no longer see your profile or talk to you. 

Recently I matched with a moderately handsome guy Jacques* whose 500 characters or less said

"Made in France. Living in Los Angeles."

 He started chatting with me. Here is an approximation of the conversation:

Jacques: Hi

Jacques: Can I ask you some questions?

Me: Sure!

Jacques: Have you ever been in love?

Me: Yes. Have you?

Jacques: No.  But I hope to.

Me: It can be wonderful. 

Jacques: What makes you unique?

I started to think... wow, these are great questions! Way better than the usual "'sup" or "how are you" or "how's your day been". My interest is definitely piqued!

Me: I'm funny, loyal and a great listener. 

Jacques: I'd like to continue, but this app is a pain. Do you have OhLaLa? It's better for chatting.

Me: I don't even know what that is.  :/

Jacques: Do you have iPhone or Android?

Me: Android. 

About 2-3 minutes go by... nothing. so -

Me: What brought you to LA? Does your family still live in France?

At this point I have email to attend to, so I leave the app for a couple minutes. When I return - 

He is gone. Unmatched. Without a trace. Buh-bye. I mean, if it was so important that I have an iPhone with some mysterious OohLaFancyPantsFrenchChattingApp, he should have specified in his profile. Harumph.

*didn't change his name at all.

no butts about it

Tinder likes butts and they cannot lie
These pictures can't deny
when a man swipes in with a nudie pic and a butt crack in my face I swipe LEFT. 

because ewww. gross.

I'm no Sir Mix-a-Lot and these guys shouldn't have put it all out there for the interwebs to have until eternity.

Bedbug - er, butt

Muscle butt

You can pick your friends, you can pick your butt, but please don't pick your friend's butts

Sudsy butt

butt selfie

butt ring

Beach Bum!!