Message Monday: regular Joe

 Today’s gentleman got right to the point: 

quizzo

This message is actually not as random/nonsensical as it probably seems. I mention in my Okcupid profile that 1. I kick ass at the music round of quizzo (I do) and 2. I’m always on the lookout for a good bagel place, since there seem to be none in Philly (seriously, where can a girl find a good bagel in this foodie town??)

So while this message was an incomplete sentence, at least the guy read my profile. And gave me a bagel rec! Could be worse.

Whoops, spoke too soon.

married

I know it’s slightly ridiculous that I continue to be surprised by this. It’s well covered territory on our blog: clearly there are married cheaters out there and clearly they go online to cheat. Notttt exactly a revelation. Still, every time I come across a married dude on Okc I’m like:

Also, I can’t not respond. I know it’s a waste of time and who cares if a complete stranger is being a shady Mcshaderson and I should just move on with my life… and yet, I can’t seem to help myself.

married guys

Suck it, asshole.

I could just drop the mic and be done here, but this guy’s profile is just too good. Plus it’s Monday, and I can’t deny you lovely readers the lulz.

regular JOI

six things

It’s like a computer compiled a list of the most cliched, stereotypical buzzwords about white suburban guys (literally including the phrase ‘white suburbanite guy’) and spewed them all over this profile. Football! Porn! War! Bacon! Beer! Cigars!  It’s classic.

Also, our friend Joe Sixpack can’t count.

Also, orgasms and Splenda are equally important to him.

I mean…

slow clap

Oh, but he’s not done. Regular Joe decided to leave us with one final pearl of wisdom.

alone

LOL INDEED. What. A. CHARMER! Good old Joe, just casually hanging out on Okcupid, being a married cliche, insulting the same women he’s looking to go out with. You really know how to make the ladies swoon, sir.  Apparently it never occurred to you that 1. “a lot of us” are alone because we’d rather spend the rest of our lives with DVR and 12 cats than settle for the likes of you and 2. the only reason you’re not equally alone is because you’re already married

Update: Turns out Regular Joe is maybe not the dim-witted cliche I made him out to be. Actually he probably (definitely) still is, but he was quoting a song by Dennis Leary in his self summary:

Thanks to our reader Chris for pointing this out, because obviously I had no idea. I mean, I post Dreamgirls clips on this blog; clearly I haven’t seen any early 90s Denise Leary music videos. But that line does sound like a complete joke, so it’s kind of a relief to know that it actually is. I still stand by this Message Monday, though, because 1. married and 2. unless there’s an accompanying skit about Splenda and orgasms (Chris, help us out!), this guy is still a tool.

 

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Pre-Date Rituals: Part II

Note: I put the finishing touches on this post on Sunday, because I knew I would be spending all of Marathon Monday day drinking along the marathon route (just past mile 24), and most of Tuesday recovering. After the terrible events that happened here on Monday, I thought about taking out my reference to how a lot of Bostonians celebrate what is typically the best day of the year in Boston. But I ultimately decided to leave it as written. Because it should have been like any other Marathon Monday – tens of thousands of runners celebrating an impressive personal accomplishment, while the rest of us lazy bums reveled in the successes of total strangers and our good fortune in having a paid day off while the rest of the nation is at work/school. It’s a delightful local holiday, officially called Patriots’ Day. An institution in Boston. A day full of cheering on the runners and parties and barbeques and happiness and unity. It should not have turned into something dark, confusing, and incredibly sad. Still, in the midst of all that tragedy, there was so much good. So many helping hands. So it’s a very small stand that I’m taking, but I’m leaving it in for the way it was supposed to be.

i

Last week S gave us all a glimpse of her pre-date rituals (inspired by Brunch for Every Meal). Over the long weekend here in MA, I took a break from my busy schedule of Veronica Mars viewing (specifically, this scene on repeat – Logan is so tortured and hot, it gets me every time) and Marathon Mondaying (my 10th Marathon Monday – god it’s the best day!!), to shed some light on how I get ready for a date. Spoiler alert: my version involves less preparation, and yet, more tardiness.

7:50 am: Wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual with the intention of using that time to pick out a cute outfit and consider wearing makeup. Immediately decide against wearing makeup because I’d have to do it myself and that has only ever ended with me looking like a drag queen. (If you see me in real life with makeup on there is a 100% chance that 1] I’m in the company of S (and mutual friend, other S) and they sat me down and prettied me up; or 2] I’m a bridesmaid in a wedding and a professional make-up artist was involved). Actually use those extra 20 minutes to leisurely eat a bowl of Special K with red berries and make disapproving faces at Matt Lauer and/or Willie Geist (Matt Lauer for being Matt Lauer and Willie Geist for snubbing me that one time I was a “guest” on the Today Show**). This is different from my normal routine in that I usually wake up with exactly enough time to shower and get dressed, so I don’t have time to eat anything in my apartment or turn the tv on. Instead, I eat an apple or banana in the car while making disapproving faces at everyone else on the road and listening to Mattie in the Morning because everyone on that show is mean to each other and that’s what mornings are for.

8:10 am: Shower and hastily blow-dry my hair in an attempt to make it look as good as it does when my sister or friend J does it. I’m generally 78% successful at achieving this.

8:30 am: Quickly pick out a dress or top/skirt that is both work appropriate and can be transitioned into dinner/drinks with a cute scarf/cardigan/jewelry/shoes, and leave for work.

6:15 pm: Consider leaving work to stop at home and grab something to eat. Disregard that thought because if I go home I will lay down on my couch to “rest up and refresh my energy before the date” and end up taking a 4 hour nap.

6:20 pm: Eat a handful of animal crackers from the bear jar sitting on the bookshelf in my office and make a packet of instant oatmeal from the stockpile that I amassed when everything at the local grocery story was 70% off because the store was going out of business and EVERYTHING MUST GO! (that was back in like, October – I bought an astounding amount of oatmeal).

6:22 pm: Put away whatever (boring) lawyer task I was doing, and browse some of my favorite sites on the internet whilst eating my “dinner” because I have plenty of time before I need to leave.

7:05 pm: Use my typically flawed logic when it comes to timing to calculate that since the bar is (more often than not) in Davis Square which is past my apartment, and it takes me 12-15 minutes to get home and 5 minutes to get from my apartment to basically anywhere, I should start packing up.

7:28 pm: Face the reality for the 4,293,194th time that even in my car, almost nothing is actually 5 minutes from my apartment and I’m probably going to be late.

7:35 pm: Park 2 ½ blocks from the bar/restaurant because I’m cheap and would rather park on a resident only street for free than pay the $0.50 for a metered spot (stupid 8 p.m. meters). Also, the last time I parked in a metered spot it was simultaneously a poorly marked handicapped spot and I got a $100 ticket. SOOO, yeah.

7:40 pm: Waltz in, start a slow-clap for myself for only being 10 minutes late and not the typical 15-20, act like my propensity for arriving late to everything is an endearing quality and not the character flaw that it really is, and hope that this blasé attitude towards tardiness rubs off on my date.

 sd

**I use the term “guest” loosely. My mom and I were really just handlers, because the real guests were two of my parents’ dogs (they are legitimate rock stars) and the other families that Stupid Willie Geist actually spoke to instead of stood in front of. Fuck him.

P.S. I know that being late is rude, I do. And it may not seem like it, but I genuinely try to be on time for things because I’m aware of my delinquent ways. I just rarely succeed. Like I said – character flaw.

Message Monday: Do You Love Sex?

This is a short and sweet Message Monday, brought to us by an inquisitive young gentleman:

blog mm

It’s times like these when I really wish we could reveal usernames, because this one is a classic. Spoiler alert: it involves a phrase from Jersey Shore and the number 69.

By far the best thing about this message is the order of the questions. #1: sex. #4: my name. Slow clap.

Audacious though it may be, perhaps there is something to be said for his direct approach. So naturally I came up with my own corresponding questions to ask a potential date in my next introductory message:

  1. Are you a rapist? (Inappropriate lead off sex question)
  2. Can you fix a garbage disposal and change a tire? (“Manliness” question)
  3. Have you seen Dirty Dancing so many times that you know the Kellerman’s anthem by heart? (stereotypical girl interest question)
  4. What is your name?

If I do try this out, I promise you guys will be the first to know!