As of this week I am - finally - legally divorced, which means I'm able to do lots of things I couldn't for a long time, like officially claim all the closet space, have actual good sex and update my blog. Not that I will be updating my blog about any sex I am or am not having, nor will I ever talk about any details of the divorce other than to advise that if you're going to have a midlife crisis please be the tiniest bit original about it. Put a little thought into it; steal a 747 or syphon funds from a drug cartel, just don't be a cliché. I can't respect that sort of unoriginality and will kick your sorry ass out each and every time. Impress me, won't you? Anyway, as I was going through the divorce process it occurred to me that it might not be the best idea in the world to publicly document all the stupid shit I do, which is, let's be honest, a lot. It's going to take me a while to get both of you devoted readers up to speed, I fear. Let's work backwards and tackle my recent fun and games.
I've already told you about my best friend, known as John Stamos because she was the best roommate ever, but I don't believe I've introduced you to one of my other best friends. We'll call him Rachel because in addition to being an excellent roommate, he is terribly attractive and always has very good hair. If anyone's taking applications for iconic men's haircuts, I'm submitting Rachel's because his is really top drawer. But I digress...Rachel is single and living in DC and has had some considerable success with internet dating, so he suggested I should try it. I suppose I forgot that Monica is the sensible one in most scenarios, not that flighty Rachel!, so I agreed. I'd snooped around on Match.com a few years ago and was not impressed, but I figured certainly it's all gotten so much better since that's the way everyone meets people these days, right?
Hold please while I pour myself a drink.
No, it's not any better. It's awful. It's so awful...that it's kind of excellent. I've had my profile up for a week and I can honestly say it's been both the best and worst thing that I've ever done; an internet Janus. I was super careful with my profile - my dear friend E helped me pick out the pictures (nothing ridiculous or at all suggestive) and write my bio ("not interested in a hookup", "looking for someone in town - smart, independent and not crazy") but apparently I inadvertently included a code word for "especially looking for deviant felons". My first messages were harmless and pretty amusing - one from a guy who wrote "your nickname must be Google because you've got all I'm searching for", another one from TotallyToenails asking for a picture of my shoes and three others who inexplicably all incorporated "taco" into their profile names. Then I get this guy
and I was all "oh! Ha! That's hilarious and a bit odd!" In retrospect I should have become Mrs. bassblaster on the spot. Because it was on.
No sir, it's your poly blend sheets that are beautiful.
Are we using dog years? Because if that guy is 46 then I'm 6.
No, Ned Flanders in a SmartCar, urnotmytype.
My favorite thing about our next contestant is how he sort of sidles up the pillow princess point. Like he's working up the courage to address it. He can't even work up enough courage to look directly at the camera. Total sidler.
This one actually made me want to throw my phone at the wall. Lloyd Christmas needs to shut the hell up and stop criticizing.
Then the tide turned marginally. How can you not appreciate this kind of talent?
And this guy and I could be friends - who wouldn't want to be friends with someone who has a holding wiener t-shirt?
But I was only in the eye of the hurricane; the worst was yet to come.
This is one of legion stomach shots I was fortunate to receive. I sent this guy back a picture of my own tummy (let's just be honest, tummy is a better word for me. It's kind of just stomach-ish) with the note "can you see the C-section scars through the holes in my granny panties?" I should totally include all that in my profile, right?
Speaking of babies. This woman must totally hate her husband if she wants to gift him a 45 year old who's birthed two 9 pound kids
I'm not even bothering to protect this guy's identity. If someone finds me chopped up in 48 individual Mason jars, the police are going to need all the help they can get. He's saying "You're very pretty." But what he's actually saying is "You'll be very pretty on a serving platter, slow roasted with an apple and my dead mother's locket and big toe in your mouth."
this is also not okay. Welding and smoking probably shouldn't go hand in hand. I forgive him though because, woo hoo, 69!
a PSA from Boomsicle on the dangers of smoking whilst welding!
TallPaleNerdy1. He sent me several pictures.
like this one, taken in his grandmother's basement. Where all things beautiful go to watch a tv from 1989 and get molested.
He also sent me a photo, that is, um, intimate. Because I love my readers John Stamos and Rachel I won't post it. There are just some things that you can't un-see. But let me sign off by letting you know that I'm deleting my profile as we speak. And that TallPaleNerdy offered something like this.
Get me to a nunnery.