Two Whack Dates and a car accident….

Two Whack Dates and a car accident….

First off, the title of this blog is an ode to Beck’s song “Where it's at”, for all of you who don't know....



Friday, I was determined to get sleep. Apparently not too determined cuz I ended up going out with “The Lobbyist”. (In the future, I plan on referring to everyone I spend any time with by the nicknames that I use when I refer to them in conversations with my friends, as I have adopted my mother’s policy when it comes to men… Specifically, don’t use their names unless they matter…. And they don’t…..)

So I went out with “The Lobbyist”. The following lessons were learned:

1. I will not go out with anyone over 30.
   They are boring and they have a sense of responsibility and obligation that I gives not a fuck about. I AM 25. I want to be young and enjoy it. And being responsible so that people can pat me on the back for bein all grown up like and shit … Not worth it. Being responsible because “I’m Supposed To Be”… also not worth it…. No. and my therapist agrees. If it ain’t fun, why bother. It’s not that serious… its only life.
   
   
2. The news sucks.
   It's depressing and like Tara said “If I really need to know it, they will break into my regularly scheduled program to let me know it or someone will fuckin tell me. People in the past didn’t have fucking TV and news and shit and they did just fine.” I don’t want to hear about the newest drug epidemic or what is next in line to kill me. Misinformation and fear mongering… FUCK YOU, Dan Rather. Fuck you.
   
   
3. Having people argue with me about how I live my life, merely because it doesn't coincide with how they live theirs... LAME.
   And a tool of communism. Same wit group projects. Stop smooshing my individualism. Haters.

Got home and watched Swingers….

Look, we're gonna spend half the night driving around the Hills looking for this one party and you're going to say it sucks and we're all gonna leave and then we're gonna go look for this other party. But all the parties and all the bars, they all suck. I spend half the night talking to some girl who's looking around the room to see if there's somebody else who's more important she should be talking to. And it's like I'm supposed to be all happy 'cause she's wearing a backpack, you know? And half of them are just nasty skanks who wouldn't be nothing except they're surrounded by a bunch of drunken horny assholes. And I'm gonna tell you something T. Are you listening?

Wake up Saturday and I get a P.O. Box. Got to Silver Spring. Grab 2 GRE books and kidnap my cousin. Kidnap Eve.

Argue with the guy who sells me a bagel. He was askin me mundane ass questions.
Him: What would make you happy?
Me: I am happy.
Him: No you're not. You like making other people miserable.
Me: Well, if making people miserable makes me happy and I'm making you miserable, then wouldn't I be happy? Hmmmm... SHAZAAM!
Him: Are you seeing anyone?
Me: My therapist.....

Why in gods name would you tell me that I like making people miserable and then attempt to ask me out.... Booooo to you sir. Boo to you... Men. Are. Weird.

Go to the mall and get a dress and some shoes. Head off to whack date number two. It was whack. I was tired and not on my A game... Because when I am tired and do not care and am simultaneously not intellectually stimulated, i go on autopilot and the pilots name is "IDONTGIVEAFUCK"...

Men. Are. Weird. part 2. Whack date number 2 said... "You're weird...." okay, I concede. I am weird. But you are still gonna try to molest me at the end of the night. When a man is "weird", We womenfolk run away and try to avoid all physical contact. Menfolk, they try and touch. Men. Are. Weird. and apparently illogical, horny, nervous creatures.... BOOOO.

Head home….

End up getting rear ended in front of Ibiza (nightclub in DC). Now I’m home writing this blog.

My Nonexclusive dating experiences (the only kind I’m currently interested in) have enlightened me to quite a few things:

1. No one over 30. Point blank.
   
   
2. Men: When you shave your head because your hairline is receding….
   We are not fooled. That is the black man equivalent of a comb over or a toupee and it is a hot shame. Bald gracefully, damn it.
   
   
3. I am like 7-11. No shirt, no shoes, no service.
   
   
4. Controlling men ain’t where its at… at all.
   And many of them have control issues. If I want to wake up and smoke crack, that’s on me. If I want to smoke, drink to excess, whatever.. Lemme do me. What tha fuck do you care? Shit. I barely like you. I’m definitely not changing for you. I am a spastic ADD butterfly. I gotta be me. Damn.
   
   
5. Dates are Lame.
   End of story. I’m only interested in things that make me money, further my education or give me an orgasm in a timely manner. None of that 20 minutes of wandering around my clit bullshit. Quit wanderin around lost like it’s an amusement park and you are a confused park guest. Bitch, get a map. I don’t got all day. Plus, your beard is giving me something akin to rug burn. It isn’t appreciated.
   
   
6. CONDOMS.
   The concierge doesn’t have them (valuable lesson learned). Also, bring two. Shit bring three. Cuz if you only have one and we use it and it was a false start… that’s a wrap. I’m goin home.
   
   
7. I am still not about sleepovers.
   I hate morning sex. There’s funky breath and sleepiness and I want to shower first. I like to wake up in my own bed. Not yours…
   
   
8. No preemptive “Weing”….
   Yeah. We. Us. Our… No, no, no. There is no motherfuckin we. No us. Our nothing. There’s you…… and then there’s me. No you and me… no no no. You……. And me….. don’t forget the pause.
   
   
9. If you don’t know my middle name, don’t ask me if I like fucking women. You will never have a threesome with me… I can book any number of unattached lesbians, bisexuals and drunk straight women who have been questioning their orientation as of late…. If i book them, i know i can fuck them... You... well that's a whole nother story... Fuck i look like trying to convince them that they need to experience you as well? I am not David Blaine. I cannot do mind tricks. And if you over 18 and ain't had a threesome offered... Booo. I am not here to fulfill your fantasies. Fantasy fulfillment costs more than you can afford. I am not the freaky sex fairy.
   
   If you really want a threesome, do the work. Book a hoe yourself and have her laid out for me. Ladies like me. So do men. 90% chance, they’ll be down to do me…but you… shit. Half the time I’m not even sure I want to do you my damn self so I can’t very well wholeheartedly attempt to convince them that they should partake in you.
   
   
10. Shopping. Way better than dating. Also, Chris Rock. Really funny.

Fuck it. Lameness abounded. Gonna study from here on out, cuz one more whack date and I’m going gay…shit. What can I say? The ladies love me.

PostScript: Weekend turned out alright. Car - only a ding. Whack dates - just not gonna answer tha phone. Sunday - Louis cooked. Watched the skins game. Hung out wit Tommy and them and drank coconut Mojitos. Yay Mojitos. Yay drunk. Imma log hella overtime this week. I got bills Nigga!!!! I got bills! Imma see Louis at least twice a month. He's the shit.