Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Five hates

I hate when my girlfriend and succubus argue.

I hate when the doorman won’t let me into a portal to another dimension. Not on the list, my ass.

I hate people who blindly support their solar system regardless of what’s best for the galaxy.

I hate when my dog eats nasty, disgusting stuff off the ground, especially after I called dibs.

I hate when I forget to eat lunch or appease Satan.

Friday, August 12, 2011


I’d like to share some words of wisdom that have been passed down in my family for generations. I hope they help you find your path. Or at least your pants.

Never say "I love you" or “Your mom’s a whore” just to be polite.

You don’t need religion to be a kind, decent person who barbecues orphans for a living.

If you have to step on someone’s dreams, do it in bunny slippers.

It’s always the children who suffer when bears eat them.

Don’t count your chickens till you learn the basics of mathematics.

Men are like fish. We must obey any order from Aquaman, no matter how repugnant.

It’s better to put corn in your piehole than pie in your cornhole.

It’s better to have loved and lost than to have webbed feet.

Single people worried about dying alone need to be proactive. Join a book club or suicide cult.

Career advancement shouldn’t be a popularity contest. It should be a pie-eating contest.

Some things are just easier to replace than clean, like shower curtains and babies.

Good fences make really good neighbors if you add a glory hole.

People who live in glass houses shouldn’t be birds.

However, people who live in glass houses should be Christina Hendricks naked.

But people as dumb as a box of rocks should not throw stones.

Grain alcohol before beer, never fear. Crystal meth before wine, you’ll be fine.

Loose lips sink ships, but loose bowels ruin towels. So that evens out.

Finally, remember... Sex will never solve your problems. It will only make your problems sexier.

Friday, August 05, 2011

My online dating profile

(This is my actual new profile. I thought it had enough entertainment value to post here. Needless to say, I soon expect to get more ass than a Martian anal-probe).

So I’ve basically given up all hope for online dating, which seems like the perfect time to post a new profile.

I’d love to blame online dating for my lack of dating success, but the truth is I’m terrible at just about every aspect of dating.

Part of the problem is I just don’t like most people, so it’s hard to find someone I want to do anything with, much less date. Also, when I do find someone I like, I get a little too excited about it and then usually blow it with over-enthusiasm. These are the great experiences I can offer you, ladies of Chicago!

Let’s see... What else seems important...

I think “dingleberry” is one of the best words around. “Higgledy-piggledy” is also solid.

If you have a relentlessly positive attitude, please aim it at someone else. If you regularly say things like “Everything happens for a reason” or “I work hard and play hard,” please go away hard.

If you like Larry David and Louis CK, that probably bodes well.

If you believe in God, Jesus, angels, Xenu, or anything like that, we won’t get along. I hate smoking, but I can tolerate smoke better than religion. However, I welcome UFO enthusiasts, because that stuff is fun. I would love to meet someone who could explain why my butt hurts.

Some of the things I admire women for are their strength, courage, and boobs.

I tend to get along with women who are some kind of artists, or women who are in a helping profession, like teachers, social workers, etc. Oh, and I love librarians. I would probably go out with a librarian based on that fact alone. If you do financial-business-anything, I would love to marry you for your money, but I’ll probably be too bored to get through more than one beer with you. Sorry. I have some kind of faulty chromosome that steers me away from activities and people that make money, which explains why I’ve been a summer camp counselor, a juggler, an English grad student, and (someday probably) a hobo.

Sorry my pictures are a little out of date. Just imagine me looking slightly older and crappier. Actually, imagine me looking much, much, much crappier. Then I’ll look really good when we meet.

I love dogs, and I have a rat terrier. I like cats, but I’m allergic to cats. However, some of them aren’t so bad on my respiratory system. Only a few cats make me feel like Darth Vader is choking me out. I also love any excuse to take Benadryl.

I should probably mention something positive about myself, so...I guess I can be funny? I wrote this joke, which kind of applies to the current situation:

You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you realize you have a terrible bestiality problem.

I guess I’m smart, based on being an overeducated freelance writer and writing teacher. I’m one of those “smart” people without common sense, so I’m definitely a bit of a buttmunch too. I go to the gym, but not enough to look good—just enough to keep myself from being totally disgusting. I hate the gym.

Hey, I just remembered how awful most guys are, so maybe these traits are big pluses: I am employed! I shower! I’m not 100% douchey! The bar for seeming like a decent guy can be frighteningly low, and I am definitely a good centimeter or two above that bar.

So, to sum up, in a grammatically dubious sentence:

If you’re sick of dating but still have a shred of hope, if you are a negative person who thinks that is a positive way to be, if you are godless and dog-liking, if you want to meet a guy who is pretty much the worst dater in the world, and if you have boobs, please drop me a line. Thank you.

Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Five thoughts about food babies

Ugh... Ouch... Ohhh... My Indian food baby just ate my kidneys. Now he’s chewing my spleen. Why didn’t I go to Lamaze class???

Ah... Nothing like coffee to facilitate the safe delivery of a healthy food baby, It's a boy!

Who’s up for a food baby shower?

Overheard: “Which way do I flush the toilet, up or down?” Depends if you want your food baby to go to heaven or hell.

There’s a party in my stomach, and everyone’s pistol-whipping my food baby.