Sweat baby sweat

Sunday morning I woke up to a text reminding me that I had a date later in the afternoon. A hiking date, which in theory sounds cute, awe, we will hike out down to the river and it will be all so cute and romantic. In my head this is excellent, something picture perfect and out of a movie and we know how much I love anything that reminds me of a romantic movie scene. Also I thought this would be a good way to get over Melvin, who recently entered and exited my life for the millionth time in 6 months, I’ve seriously developed an eye twitch from the stress that man causes me.

So I wake up kind of pumped for my hiking date, until I realize I do not have a hiking outfit and the more concerning fact, I have never really gone hiking.  Once when I was 12, but uh, I was a hefty 12 year old and it was probably a traumatic experience because it involved moving so I never really did it again. Also after a conversation with Dana, she informs me that fake eye lashes are not accepted when you go on a hiking date and I probably shouldn’t waste my time curling my hair. I am in panic mode; usually I like to ease guys into the process of seeing “natural” Justine. I like to charm them with my amazing personality so when I go from Beyonce to Susan Boyle it’s not as big of deal, because they are swooned with my sense of humor and loveliness.

So I go on this date, without hair extensions or falsies and it is at this time that I decided that I am more of a mini golf, dinner and drinks kind of date. Why you ask? Because let me tell you the main difference between movies and real life. Sweat. That’s it. You don’t get romantic moments when the two of you are so sweaty from the sun beating down on you and you are crawling over shrubs like it’s the Hunger Games.  There isn’t a sexy way to unpeel your shirt from your back, there isn’t a romantic way to look into each other eyes when you have beads of sweat dripping into them off your forehead, and I sure as hell don’t want you to touch me because the bugs are touching me enough and I’d probably catch you in the chin with one of my arms flailing that’s trying to hit the bug that just bit me on the arm.

But we finally made it down to the river; I take one step into the water, and BAM! Legs go over my head, arms reaching to grab something, anything, but there is nothing for me to stable myself and I ever so gracefully biff it into the water, right on my ass. Yep. I am the most graceful create to walk the earth. He is busy laughing at me so I stand up take one more step and fall again. I give up. Dating is not my forte. Needless to say, I doubt there will be a second date.

Two facts for you on this lovely Tuesday

Two facts:

1)      Toothy the toothless wonder bought a trailer today, like one you live in, in a trailer park. His white trash dreams are complete. I am so proud of him; it has a stove and everything.

2)      My boss is obviously trying to kill me. After Nikki made me scog beers last night I am obviously hung over at work today...Boss man found a cat while driving Toothy to said trailer, he brought it back to the office. The thing won’t stop meowing. I don’t know what’s worse the meowing kitten or the fact that I’ve had to listen to Taylor Swift 22, ten times today.

As a side note, the toothless wonder’s reaction to the kitten was “I usually have to buy a drink before I can just pick up a pussy.” You aren't picking up any "pussy" Toothy; it might have something to do with your teeth,...or your lack of hygiene.

Mom Jean Shorts...we need to talk about this

I know everyone is in extreme panic mode because it’s been like...a week...since my last post but do not worry I am still alive just very, very single. I mean, like eat a whole pizza to myself, in sweat pants, while watching rom coms on Netflix, asking myself why I don’t have a hobby, cell phone in another room because there is no one exciting texting me, can probably get away with not washing my hair for another day, single. How did I  get to this point you may ask? You probably didn’t but oh well, I’ll let you know anyways, I threw out every single guy that showed interest in me except Melvin (who doesn't show interest in me) and then decided I am over Melvin’s to cool attitude and teenage angst behaviour...so now I am lonely, which I am going to learn to rock...as soon as I'm done my pizza.

So while I’ve generally talked about dating, guys, singleness, and drunken adventures, this is about something far more serious...something that is going to affect women everywhere.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse for us big booty bitches, it has; worse than Hello Kitty themed clothing,  worse than Uggs with jeans skirts, worse than leggings under a jean skirt...pretty much jean skirts in general and yes my friend, worse than the treacherous big booty bitch trying to rock skinny jeans. Miley Cyrus tried to bring it in style last summer and it looks like her effort has finally paid off because it has started showing up all over Pinterest, which means it’s the epitome of trendy and there is no turning back. Some (okay just me) have even gone as far as saying it is the herpes of summer trends. If you haven’t figured it out by now it’s the God awful catastrophe known to the world as MOM JEAN SHORTS! Whoever decided these high wasted jean shorts would be a good trend was out of their fucking mind. Let me fill you in on a secret fashion Gods, you stick a 14 year old girl who has no tits and no ass in a pair of these shorts of course you think they will look trendy and cool! Throw in an American flag crop top and you think you have hit the jackpot of summer trends, but you haven’t, go back to the drawing board, because 85 percent of the population is going to hate you by mid June, want to kill you by early July, and have an organized plan to kill you by August.

See it’s the Asian effect; Asians have the ability to where whatever the hell they want to, it can break every fashion rule possible and it will look adorable, because they have the body of a prepubescent 13 year old boy so clothes just fall in the right place. What happens to us women with boobs and a butt, we see these Asian women in their chunky heels and tights with shorts and over sized sweater falling off their shoulders with a big fucking anime character on the front and we go “damn that bitch looks cute” so we go out...we search and search through the forever 21 racks till we find an outfit similar and we put it on in the change rooms. We are so please with our accomplishment to be as trendy as those little Asians, then we pull the sweater over our heads, look and the mirror, and we combust because of how horribly disastrous we look! Just poof, dead. It’s that horrible. And that is the Asian effect and it affects us all, unless you are Asian or Kate Moss and in that case, I hate you.

So fashion Gods I need you to stop taunting me with these high wasted mom shorts because I know exactly how this is going to go, I am going to spend the next three weeks searching for these shorts, because let’s face it, when I see it on those little models, with their long beach waved hair, trendy floral crop top, round Elton John sunglasses and some kind of head wear, I want it, I want to be trendy, and a little bit of a hippie and I want to be delusional about my curves. I want to make the fatal mistake and buy those shorts or worse go into my mom’s closet and take a pair of her old jeans and get the scissors and start cutting. How do I know this will be horrible? Because mom jeans belong in the 80’s and not around my ass, because I have an ass, I probably have enough of an ass to say I have two asses and I do not need shorts that are going to make my ass look bigger and that is exactly what mom shorts do; they emphasize those cute size two bitches asses and for those of us who are not a size two our ass is going to end up looking like a size 22. The pockets are wide set and up high and the way the shorts are just going to draw attention to my thighs, which is the last place I want attention, I’d prefer the attention up around my tits, my boobs are good, thighs are not. Let’s not even talk about what it will look like when I have to sit down in those mom jeans, because eventually I will have to sit down, it’s just a fact, and you know those high wasted devil pants are going to make me look like a have a huge giant wang hanging out between my legs! Did you see the size of that zipper! It’s going to bunch up, it’s going to be bad, it's going to make me look like I have a dong or worse a gunt and I’m going to cry a little. Also, why, why do you have to cut those jeans shorts up so that your ass cheek hangs out the side?! Because even if I saw a little size 2 girl walking down the streets with her ass hanging out at 2 in the afternoon I’d think one of those two things

·         Hoe bag put some clothes on

·         She must be drunk...maybe I should follow her

So, to conclude this rant, let’s just stop this summer trend, let’s stick to those little lace shorts or normal jean shorts and save everyone a world of pain.

 

As a side note while writing those post I have discovered a new love for All Dressed chips, which won’t help me in my quest to get into mom jean shorts, but are delicious none the less.

One and one and one makes three...or a really awkward night

I had the best intentions last night. I really did. It started off as a casual drink with the Aussie and well...now I’m at work with three hours of sleep and a head ache. The head ache is probably from the events that occurred last night, not the amount of beer I consumed, that must be it.

The Aussie started trying to talk me into going for a drink around 11...a.m... I was obviously holding out in hopes that Melvin would ask me to hang out, but by 7 o’clock he hadn’t asked me to hang out so I agreed to go for a drink with the Aussie man. Here is the beauty of all of this, he is friends with Melvin’s friend, where did we go? Melvin’s good friend’s house. I was sitting there drinking my beer, in a corner, on the opposite side of the room as the Aussie because this was just too awkward to handle when someone said “well should we get going?” Going? Where are we going? I am pretty wrapped up in this show about bats we are watching, why can’t we just stay here...we don’t need to leave. Trust me. But obviously I am just along for the ride in this adventure so my opinion doesn’t matter. Where are we going you ask? Let me tell you...the dirty. This place is a black hole, you just get sucked it, you never just stay for one in this place, never has any one walked into this place had a beer and left. No, you’ll have like twenty beers and a pile of bad choices by the time you leave. So off we went and I knew where this night was heading. You think this would just be the end of the story right, you probably are sitting there saying “oh Justine, you silly kitten, that isn’t that bad, a couple beers on a Thursday, pfft I’ve done that before.” And you’d be right, if that’s where the story stopped. It doesn’t, God likes to spite me for my bad choice, or I just have a knack for putting myself into bad situations, probably a bit of both.

On the drive over someone asked who was all going to be there, after I heard the answer I seriously contemplated hurling myself out of a moving vehicle. Like unbuckle my seatbelt, get the vehicle up to warp speed and tuck and dive onto the pavement.

He listed off some names, and then he said it...Skipper...and...Melvin.

Fuck.

Off.

HOLY FUCKING CHRIST SAVE MY ALLAH, STRAP ME TO A BOMB AND LET ME GO TO MY 72 VIRGINS BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE LESS PAINFUL. ARE YOU JOKING? YOU HAVE TO BE JOKING RIGHT NOW. WHY DO I CONTINUALLY PUT MYSELF INTO BAD SITUATIONS? I SHOULD HAVE STAYED AT HOME AND WATCH DUCK DYNASTY LIKE I HAD PLANNED. PANIC. I AM PANICING. HOLY CHRIST, JESUS, ALLAH, AND BRITTNEY MURPHY WHAT AM I GOING TO DO.

Upon arrival I looked around and noticed that I was safe, they weren’t there. I’ll have a beer and get the hell out of dodge, mission accomplished right? Wrong, Nikki showed up, so well, I was done for, one beer turned into three and now my ride home (the Aussie, he’s still kicking around) is slightly inebriated and probably shouldn’t drive. Nikki and I go for a smoke and that is when I see Skipper walking up. Sheer and utter panic struck me. Let me remind you that this is the first time we’ve seen each other since the great encounter at Melvin’s house. At least this time I had pants on. There’s the silver lining in this whole mess I guess.

Then that Mulan girl who hates my guts shows up, great, all that’s missing midget and we could turn this into a reality TV show. On the plus side Mulan had on a different outfit for the first time ever! YAY Mulan!

The night was complete when Melvin showed up and I was sitting with the Aussie to my left, Melvin to my right and Skipper across from me.  Well this isn’t exactly how I pictured my first awkward encounter with Melvin and Skipper in the same room, and I really didn’t expect to be there with another guy, but I guess this is better than Sunday brunch at their mom’s house, at least in this situation I can drown the awkwardness in beer.

Skipper doesn’t stick around long, but he leaves Mulan, which is good because she is just my biggest fan (apparently they are still together, good for them), and I spend the majority of the night dodging the Aussie to be around Melvin. See the Aussie isn’t all that bad and I kind of feel bad because really, I just like Melvin and the Aussie is more of my cushion, but I’ve been assured by a mutual friend that he doesn’t do relationships and really, he could be deported at anytime so it’s best not to get invested with this one. But he seems okay none the else;  most of the time I don’t know what he’s saying, but what I seem to catch loud and clear is his attempts to sleep with me, so while he is offering me his place to sleep at and Melvin is sitting beside me, it makes for an interesting night.

Around 12:30 I knew my night had to end, I had had enough of Mulan and well...I had to work the next day, now that the Aussie was too drunk to drive, thanks to my encouragement, (the more he drank, the longer I could stay and talk to Melvin) we had to get a taxi.  We take the taxi to my house first, he asks to come in, I quickly shoot down that idea, just what my mom wants to wake up too, hi mom just leaving for work, there’s this Aussie down stairs, don’t mind him, I’m sure he will be gone soon, he’s suppose to drive to Seattle at some point today.  I go down stairs and I text Melvin, well needless to say within five minutes I was on my way to pick him up and we went back to his house. We mixed a drink and started talking, then that mother fucker told me I was confusing! Here we go, the king of hot and cold has informed me that I am confusing. He knows how I feel, you know how I feel, hell the lady at the grocery store almost knew how I feel. Are you guys confused with how I feel? I’ll break it down for you

Justine has a grade 8 style crush on Melvin

Melvin confuses Justine (probably due to her lack of patience and girl logic and general stupidity when it comes to him)

Justine uses other boys to cushion blow from Melvin’s confusion

Melvin does something funny/sweet/cute

Justine goes back to Melvin

Justine gets drunk and spills every emotion she has to Melvin because she is an idiot

Justine feels stupid for being an idiot and vows to get a grip and pony up about this situation

Justine goes back to step one and the cycle repeats

So that’s where my night ended, I went to bed, after being part of a three ring circus all night I was exhausted. I am even more exhausted today. I vow to make better choices next week and not weekday drink, because I am not 18 anymore. I’d like to thank boss man for noticing that I am hung over and ordering pizza today. I am going to eat that pizza and have a nap under my desk. If anyone needs me that’s where I will be.

Terrible Date Tuesday: Am I drunk yet?

I’m a talkative person, I can generally talk to anyone at any time, I have no problem walking up to strangers and talking to people, so maybe that’s why I hate people who are so quiet. What I hate even more are people who choose to do all their conversing through text message. I get that it is easier to be brave over text, you can hide behind your little cell phone or computer and be a chatty Kathy! It’s for that reason I really strongly feel that when it comes to dating your text conversation should be kept to a minimum. I feel like it makes an awkward situation when you can spend a week getting to know every detail of some ones pathetic life only to sit down and go on a date with them and have these awkward silences filled with not really knowing what to say or do. So how goes your brothers fight against genital heries that you felt the need to tell me about over text message? See...awkward.

Mchottie and I met in Mexico, in a drunken state mind you, but we did spend some time sober together. He was sweet and charming, not really all that funny, but he was alright. We could hold a conversation. I met up with him again when he was in Alberta for lacrosse provincials, then after Kermit and I broke up we began our month long, text and talk every day. I knew everything about him, we would spend hours talking on the phone, I would talk to him about Amy Pohler, life, and he would talk about work, lacrosse, different things he did on the weekend. Our conversations were similar to what couples talk about when they are trying to maintain a long distance relationship. I had low expectations of what would happen once I was there, I knew what I wanted, him to pay for me to go to Toronto (yep...I’m a gold digger, judge all you want), have a weekend with friends and drinks and that would be it, we would slowly taper off.

But once I got there everything just seemed wrong, he was arrogant, unlikeable, and bossy. The weekend as a whole was not good, there were good parts, but I just don’t think you can start the weekend off with is in my top 3 worst dinner dates and come back from that. He picked me up at the airport, we drove back to his house and got ready to go for dinner. I am not a jacket person, people always comment on it, but I just don’t like wearing them, never really have, so while leaving the house he said, go get your jacket. I am a grown ass women, if I wanted a jacket I would have grabbed one, I am not five please don’t talk to me like I am a child. I say I will be fine, he tells me he won’t leave until I grab one. OKAY DAD! I grab my jacket, we leave. He parks a million miles away, I guess it is Toronto, and we walk to the restaurant. I make a note that it’s colder in Toronto than it was in Red Deer. He looks at me and goes...ya...aren’t you glad I made you take your jacket. No I am not ass muncher! I would have been fine and if I was cold I wouldn’t have told you because I am stubborn like that. Automatically I am in a bad mood, but hunger probably had something to do with it, see I’d been flying all day so I had eaten a bagel on my way to the airport at about 7 in the morning. It was now 7 o’clock in Toronto. I am not one of those girls that doesn’t eat on the contraire, I eat, I like to eat, and that’s why I drag my ass to the gym every day, so I was hungry. We arrived at the restaurant at 7 o’clock on a Friday night, unless you are Kim K and Kayne or someone with the equivalent amount of fame you are going to be waiting to get at table. He starts saying how hungry he is, over and over and over again. No shit jack ass, we are both hungry, hence why we are going to eat, stop complaining. He starts commenting on which people are finished eating and not leaving their table in a timely manner, you’re right, they are sitting there enjoying each other’s company, which is exactly the opposite of what I am doing now.

We sit down and thus commences the awkward silence and the awkward, what are you getting...oh I’m not sure what are you getting, conversation. I hate that conversation, it's forced and just makes things feel uncomfortable, because you know if that comes up it usually means you have nothing better to talk about. We decide by the time the waiter comes around for drinks...well he decided and I was forced to make a fast decision because he was hungry. They bring out a starter salad shortly after that. I said starter salad, not some big salad that has all this stuff, it a small salad with lettuce and cucumbers. He finishes his quickly and I continue to eat mine, when I am about half way done MY STARTER SALAD, he looks at me and says...wow you were hungry, you are eating a lot. IT WAS A FUCKING STARTER SALAD!!!!!!! Every childhood memory of being called fat comes flashing through my mind, the time the girl didn’t invite me to her birthday because she didn’t want a fat kid to eat all her birthday cake, the time the boy didn’t like me because I was fat, the soccer coach who told me I’d be an amazing soccer player...if I could only lose 20 pounds, all those repressed memories of being the fat kid came flashing back. Our meal comes...I didn’t eat it. I couldn't I was sent back to that 10 year old version of myself, the one who was to scared to eat in front of people and was so self conscious she would wear a hoody every single day, even if it was 30 degrees out side. But I watched him eat his meal...all of...maybe you are the over eater fatty, and drank three glasses of wine in the mean time. So now I am a drunk, hungry, angry mess. 

Our conversation picked up once I started drinking more and we are talking about the mountains and how I love them, he says he went there once with another friend and two girls but they mostly just stayed in the hotel...yes...my friends...I am no idiot. He brought another girl to the mountains for a weekend and was choosing to talk about it in front of me. I didn't tell you about the time I went to the mountain with my ex boyfriend, I don't want to hear about your romantic weekend away either, but thanks.  He can tell I am about to rip his head off so he says lets change the topic. After I pointed out he brought up his weekend getaway I say I really don’t care because I am sure there were girls before me and there will be girls after me! Just like there were guys before him and there will be guys after. I have no filter; I have no ambition to be nice when I am tried, hungry and apparently an overeater. This starts our first fight. I am mean, I just have the ability to hold it in most of the time but not when I fight because I will cut you down in every way possible. But I have to spend a weekend with this man and I don't want him to go all Ted Bundy on me, so I just get up and leave in the middle of him getting mad at me and come back and say ready to go? I figured at that time it was my best option. We walk back to the car and he asks what I want to do...drink more so I can pretend to like you. Except I can't say that so I suggest we meet up with his friends for a drink because I'm not really tired. So upon arrival I made friends with one of his, and I drink. He was more pleasant, he was funny and actually carried a conversation with me, shocking concept I know. I could tell Mchottie was getting annoyed, I had just spent he last hour pleasantly ignoring him but letting him buy my drinks. Just what I wanted.

He drags me home at 12 and by that point I can almost tolerate him, thanks to my early choice to switch to hard alcohol, some times wine just doesn't cut it. That’s pretty much how my weekend went, get drunk so I like you...ahh I am sober...I HATE YOU MUST GET DRUNK!

That “date” night was definitely the top worst ones of my life, partly because he sucks, but a lot of it was because I knew that I had to spend the rest of the weekend with him so there wasn't an escape...the shocking part was, he said it went perfect...do men lie? Because the common thing about all horrible dates, is that the women is saying oh my god never again! While the man thinks it went awesome...oh dating...how awesome are thee

Death by midget

Dear readers,

I have a midget running around my lady parts with a chainsaw slicing my insides and laughing. Why god why god it’s been years since I had to go through this. I put a blocker in my uterus specifically so I don’t have to go through this. Some one bring me some drugs. I’m not above being stoned at work.

But I did promise a friend that I would put my online dating profile up before I deleted my account...so I will have that up as soon as I am resurrected

Yes...I did actually spend the last hour making those wonderful pieces of art. You are welcome!

One more just for fun? Oh okay!

He Loves Me...He Loves Me Not...No He Loves Me. Great

I’ve been sick so for the last couple days all I’ve wanted to do is sleep. But I had an eventful weekend none the less. So I guess I better start spilling the dirty details.

Mchottie told me he loved me. Ya, so that’s nice. Drunk on Friday night he called me and I could tell he was plastered. That’s cute that he drunk dials me when I am a million miles away. But our conversation went like this:

MM- you’re crazy

Me – don’t call me crazy, I hate when you call me crazy

MM – ya but you are crazy… I love your crazy…I love you

Me- you’re drunk. Call me tomorrow when you sober up

MM – I do love you Justine. I think about you all the time and how perfect you are

Me – call me tomorrow Mchottie, you’re drunk, go get a cab and go home

MM – ok baby.

Great. So much for a feeling free weekend of fun. The words I love you change everything. The words I love you when the feelings are not reciprocated, even worse.

I feel like once those words are said every thing changes, it leaves you with the ability to get hurt or hurt some one else. I thought we were on the same page? That he was a lot older, we don’t have a lot in common and he hates my dog, but the sex is good and a weekend in Toronto should be fun. I mean, a relationship at this point just probably wouldn’t work, even if I was in Toronto, he said he hates my dog! I can't be with some one who hates my dog! I mean it might, but who knows, I am not there and he is. He has made it clear that he has zero intentions of moving out here and it would have to be me who moves and I don’t know how I feel about that. Maybe he just loves me because women his age aren’t able to have kids and I have birthing hips. Seriously, I was made to have children. He probably looks at me and goes, great, she can still have kids, sign me up for that one. That must be it.

Augh. To much pressure.

Most girls would be over the moon that they have a guy who is willing to fly them back and forth from Toronto, says I love you and worships the ground she walks on and has for years, and has a body that makes a person want to lick chocolate sauce of his abs. This absolutely terrifies me, except for the chocolate sauce part, that doesn't sound terrifying it sounds delicious. The rest though, it means commitment, commitment I am not ready for. Commitment to a guy who is a thousand millions away. No thank you. Pass. Check please. No speaky any English.

So I am going to do what any normal person would do, still go on my trip (I don’t want to be wasteful), see how the weekend goes and maybe let him down easy. I am a horrible person. But he changed the rules. He went from easy going and fun to serious in 2.2 seconds.  Maybe the signs were there and I just didn’t see them because I was to busy deciphering signals from other men. Oh boy…that sounded horrible didn’t it? What ever, don’t judge me. maybe I will fall madly in love with him when I am there...doubtful but maybe. I guess we'll see. 

The most awkward first date that left me with a man who told me he was infatuated by me

Friday night, I got dressed up and went for a drink with my sister. Well when I got home around 9 o’clock I felt like I couldn’t waste a good hair day and a good outfit on one drink (that would be selfish, obviously), so there was a guy that I had been talking to from the hell that we call internet dating. I texted him and said, if he wanted to we could meet up for a drink, but I don’t know how long I can stay because I had to be up early. I figure that way if it was horrible I’d have a reason to have to bail. So we met up on his side of town and some how I got there first? Weird, because I just drove across town and he lived 5 minutes away. I grab a seat by the door and text every one I know to tell them that if it’s horrible I will text them “chicken” and they have to call me.  And thus begun the most awkward first date that left me with a man who told me he was infatuated by me.

OK ready, set, go…he walks in…and nothing. No butterflies, sparks, excitement. I’ve felt butterflies since Kermit, mostly with Skipper but I know that I can feel them with some one else other than Kermit. But I felt nothing on my end. Oh well, he doesn’t look horrible, he was kind of cute, I decide to stay (maybe it would get better right?) and chat with him; except by stay and chat with him I mean I try to make awkward conversation and he just shyly answers and I basically have a conversation with a wall. 20 minutes and half a beer later, he informs me that he had to take his brothers truck (yes, I passed judgment on the face that he had to take his 20 year old brothers truck) back to him so his brother could go to work but he could walk back if I didn’t mind waiting there. WHERE DO I FIND THESE MEN! Oh ya...in the scum of internet dating land. Yes, I do mind actually, I think most people would mind. That's like saying, you just sit here and have a better conversation with a door, but don't you worry, I'll be back in twenty minutes; so yes, I think that’s fucking weird and I'll just go home thanks. So we stay and chat for 20 more minutes, again mostly me trying to carry on some kind of conversation, then wrap it up. He pays the bill, about one of the only things he did right on this date. Then we walk out.

Now I am not a dating expert by any means but I’ve have been on some amazing first dates and some horrible first dates. I will make a chart for you guys some day. But, my point is…this date was average. On every level it was completely average. There was just a lot of mistakes on his end (not on mine, I am the perfect first date) that left me driving home thinking that this would have had to be his first, first date.

First he was shy, which is fine, some people are shy, but at least know how to carry on a conversation. I’ll give you a hint, conversations flow, they should be easy when there is a connection, some one says some thing, usually in question form, you answer the question in more then one or two words, then maybe ask me a question, you know, build on the conversation,  get to know each other,  we’ve been texting for a week, you know a little about me, ask me some thing.

Also another important part of a conversation is to look at some one when they talk to you. Do not go all crazy eyes on me, don’t stare at me like a crazy stalker, but if you could look in my direction that would be appreciated.

Don’t pull out your phone on a date. Never. You go to the bathroom but pulling out your phone to text is weird and just adds to the awkwardness of you not knowing how to carry on a conversation. The only time you pull out your phone is when you are trying to bail on your date. That’s a fact. And even then you go to the bathroom and come back with your phone in your hand, set it on the table and wait for your friend to call you to tell you she is going into labor.

Then it comes time for the awkward good bye. Unless you are 100 percent sure it was an amazing first date you don’t ask for a hug. (hint, if you have to ask for a hug it wasn’t a good date). Regardless, I am not a hugger, unless I love you, then I will hug the shit out of you; but until then, we don’t hug. He stops when we go to part ways to our car, I had turned to walk away, I said goodnight, then the awkward can I have a hug statement comes. Augh. We are not on hugging levels and because of this I say I’m not a hugger but sure. Auughhh why are you touching me; no touchy. No, not even a high five at this point. And I love high fives.

I drive home. I get a text message, “it’s not fair how beautiful you are, I want to see you again soon.” Were we on the same date? Because that was not amazing. It was weird. You were shy and I filled in the  gaps with nervous conversation. Seriously, when the best part of the date was when you went to pay and I watch a very drunk girl dancing around in a helmet it probably means there wasn’t a connection, at least from my end.  And here is a hint, don’t get all brave with text messages after the date is over. So begun the string of you’re amazing text messages. I don’t even know why? I wasn’t charming, my outfit was good, and my hair was good and I was rocking a Kim K smokey eye, but it was just about the most awkward 40 minutes in my dating life. Just about…I’ve had one date worse than that.

Also, do not, I repeat, do not send a text message that says, "so if you aren't are a hugger, does that mean you aren't a cuddler?" Cuddle with you? Hold your horses pony boy. We are not talking about cuddling yet, cuddling happens once you've shagged and unless you count that picture of me you keep next to your bed and tube of vaseline intercourse is not happening between us. 

Another hint, do not ask some one out on a second date through text message. This may be my new biggest pet peeve. The first date, sure, I can understand that if it came through the hell that we call internet dating, but after we meet, pick up the phone and call me, come up with a plan, be a man about this, take control. Girls like it. None of this pansy ass dancing around, well what would you like to do shit. Come up with an idea, call me, ask me, we go. Simple. Take charge. It is the single most important thing if you want a second date. When I ask you on a date, I'll come up with a plan, but I don't have to do that until the fourth date. Until then, it's all you baby. 

And lastly, don’t say things like I know you like me too. Uhh, well I don’t. I am sorry, you were average on every single aspect of that date. But I like your confidence. Use that confidence to pick up the phone and ask me on a date, not a text message.

So that was my first internet date after Kermit…and by all means, left me feeling hopeless about the potential dating pool in Shitville. I mean, we know that I am the classiest lady to walk this earth, so if you could try to be a gentleman, at least a modern day gentleman, that would be great.

Oh well, Saturday night proved to be more interesting when I went out with guys from work and one of them kissed me. We are just going to pleasantly ignore it because he leaves to go work up north for the next month, and may have a girlfriend who lives in B.C. What is it with guys who have girlfriends? Why is it that guys I think I am friends with like me but the ones that I like hate me. Well…cheers to being single and not having to care I guess. 

Day 58...What's wrong with on-line dating? Let me tell you.

I am done with on-line dating. Mostly because after the events of this weekend it is apparent that I am not ready to date and my emotional baggage is not being dealt with in a healthy way. Except for Mathew Mchottie, because well, he has my flights booked to Toronto at the end of the month. Continue to judge all you want. But I want to talk to you about on-line dating, not my life choices. I am going to be brutally honest and you can all call me a bitch later but deep down you know I am right.

This may get a little complicated but try to stay with me.

In real life people are on scales. It’s a hot/smart/funny scale, meaning you can be 10 out of 10 on the hot scale, but if you are dumb as fuck, uninteresting and just plain boring and you are a 2 out of 10 on the smart scale, but lets say you are funny, you can tell some mean one liners and are a 5 out of 10 on the funny scale, you are no longer a 10 out of 10 because you are hot. You take the average of the three and that’s what you actually are.

Now when you are dating, you tend to date within a couple points of your average. It’s a fact, you never see a smart, sexy, hot guy with a girl who is ugly and dumb (although money can some times play a role in affecting this scale). People generally have some kind of self awareness as where they sit on this scale and so they tend to hit on, date, flirt, and sleep with people on the same level as them. It makes sense right? You never see a 8 with a 2, it’s usually a 4 with a 6, or a 7 with an 8…you get the picture?

The problem with on-line dating is that this scale is thrown out the window and can create some huge problems.  This scale makes sense and it works and gives some kind of cushion for being rejected. I would never walk up to Clooney and start flirting with him; he is out of my range. I mean, I am pretty funny and I am pretty (okay, when I put make up on) but I am not on his level of sexiness.

In the world of on-line dating, people have this sense of bravery when they hide behind a computer screen. Hey, what harm can it do, I’ll send a quick Hi and see what I get back. Because of this false confidence dating sites make you put up pictures to give you some kind of idea so you know not to reply and you can read the little write up to see if they are complete idiots. Another rule I have is there is 420 in the user name, I delete, I don’t even read because I already know what it will say. But I mean these sites make it so you can get a general idea, you can’t get the full picture but you get an idea, hence the long drawn out process of chatting back and forth, maybe a phone call then the actual date, and the fact that you have to sort through a million men to find one who isn’t a loser.

Also, as a general rule for pictures guys tend to look better, girls tend to look worse or the same as pictures.  Generally, girls never look better. We understand camera angles that make us look hot.

On occasion you can get messages and they don’t have pictures, I generally don’t reply because no pictures means either

a)      They have a girlfriend

b)      They are ugly

Either way I don’t want to reply to either of those guys. Unless you count that guy with the girlfriend from Friday because I would let him take me on a date just to spite his girlfriend who I hate.

But I made an acceptation to the rule when I read this message and the guy was funny, a little witty, seemed generally interesting, and okay.

So we talk for a couple days and I am interested in this guy (in a you don’t seem to bad for being on a dating website kind of way), it doesn’t help that in my head I am picturing this Ian Somerhalder, Johnny Depp, tortured soul with this dark mysterious side. Seriously, doesn’t that sound magical? In my head he is sexy, so I ask for a picture and pray for the best. Please, please, please have eyes like Ian and the personality of Johnny and the abs of Channing. Please say there wasn’t pictures because you are just too damn sexy they made you take them down. Yes, people, I understand the odds of this happening are .03% but I am a believer.

 I did not even know what to do. He was probably 350 pounds, glasses, greasy, man. At this point you probably think I am a huge bitch, but seriously, let me refer you back to the dating scale, I am a 6 or a 7, he was a 2. I put pictures on my profile, good and bad pictures, so you know what you are getting, on my good and my bad days. He could see what I looked liked. He knew what he was getting. I got Chris Farley with out the funny personality, because I could have at least friend zoned this guy if that was the case. The picture of my Ian, Johnny, Channing mix suddenly turns into this man and all I can think of is fat guy little jacket. Seriously, I almost sent that clip from Tommy Boy and left it at that. But I didn’t; because I am not a heartless bitch.

So even though, I can be a bitch, I am usually only a bitch when I need to be or you’ve pissed me off; this guy had done neither, so I was trying to be nice. I simple said to him that I was casually dating another guy and things where starting to get more serious and I wanted to see where it would go.

That is the politest way I’ve ever let some one down. I feel like that was super awesome of me. I could have told him that he was too ugly for me to be seen in public with, but that would have been mean.

This man went off the deep end crazy! Saying that he didn’t care if I was dating some one else, I needed to continue to talk to him because he enjoyed talking to me. Uhh, you are not Christian Grey, you can not talk to me like that. I have never been good with being told what to do. Maybe in bed but even then in the back of my mind, I am saying don’t tell me what to do. So I still tried to be nice, saying that I was not comfortable with that but I would contact him if things didn’t work. Again, I am obviously giving you the brush off; I am trying to be nice. Take it and go.

He then flew off the fucking handle. He told me that I was only saying this because of how he looked. At this point I had never mentioned any thing about looks. I didn’t say any thing about the pictures he sent. Not a damn fucking thing, so now I am a little angry. I tried to be nice jackass now you are just being rude. So in the nicest way possible I said, that he did seem different than most guys I’ve date, but I enjoyed talking to him, and (again) I would let him know if things did not pan out with my imaginary serious relationship. Seriously I should get an award at this point for being so nice. Okay, maybe not, but it was pretty damn nice for me.

HE CAME BACK FOR MORE! How did this man just not pick up his dignity and move on? He then asked what kind of guys I usually date, I said guys I find hot. Maybe not the best answer, but that’s generally how I pick my boyfriends. He then asked me how that worked out for me; are you kidding me? Well, fuck you too, asshole. So I did what any sane person would do. I said that for the most part it worked. Which is kind of true.; but let’s be honest here, I have a man flying me across Canada, a man who has the body of Matthew Mcconaughey, I am not going on a date with Chris Farley. I don’t even care how that makes me sound…it’s true.

 I really thought that would be the end of this crazy man sadly it wasn’t. I didn’t leave any openings for him to continue the conversation but that didn’t stop him, nope this man is relentless. Obviously, I pissed him off, and he was going to shell out his years of rejection on me.

He told me the only thing I have going for me is nice hair. Umm, Mr. I am so fucking full of myself for no apparent reason, what do you have going for you? And my hair is nice thank you; it is also hella expensive, thanks for noticing jackass. Apparently I am also a self centered, egotistical, materialistic bitch just to let you know. Crazy because twenty minutes ago you wouldn’t let me nicely stop talking to you. Go figure.

So thus concludes my month of on-line dating. I am going back to the real world of dating where you can judge people in silence and use the hot/smart/funny scale. If you want my honest opinion, this is what’s wrong with the world we date in. False confidence behind a computer screen, fine for blogging, bad for dating; if you want to ask some one on a date, grab some real life balls and approach her when you are half corked like a normal person. 

Day 57...It's Girl Logic.

I want to explain some thing to all the women out there, to the women who are crying over men while eating some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream because the guy you like just isn’t that into you and you keep acting a damn fool. We are going to talk about Girl Logic. It’s a theory I have, and a damn good one.

I made out with Skippers roommate Friday night, why? Not because I think his roommate is an awesome guy, on the contrary, I think he was kind of a douche bag. On any other night I would have ruthlessly made fun of this man.  So why did I do it? Because I didn’t think Skipper liked me, well I know he didn’t like me. He didn’t call me, he didn’t really ask me to hang out again, and I saw him with another girl, multiple times. It was obvious he liked this other Mulan looking chick. Lord only knows why, I couldn’t find any reason to like her, both times we awkward sat around drinking at the same table. Hell even her friend said I was better than her.  So why would making out with his roommate make him like me? It wouldn’t. In fact, it only makes me look worse. But at the time it seemed like a good idea. Girl Logic.

This is this Girl Logic

Boy I like/Girl Logic = WHY THE FUCK AM I DOING STUPID SHIT

You are probably thinking wow Justine, that’s horrible I would never do that, I am a classy broad and you are a mess, I am a dating expert and never do stupid things around guys. To you I say, fuck you, you are lying to yourself. You do it. Even if you don’t want to admit it, you are no better than me, because it’s not our fault, it is Girl Logic. It can’t be helped.

Every single girl I know does it. Boyfriend is pissing you off, you go have drinks with your girlfriends, do your hair and make up and go to the bar to “dance” aka get hit on by guys. You may not kiss another guy but you flirt, you touch their arm and laugh at their bad jokes, you bat your eye lashes and make sure your cleavage is bringing in attention. You like a guy and you know he is going some where, you go, and you make sure you look damn good, even if he didn’t invite you? Why? Because that is Girl Logic. Girl Logic causes women to do crazy things and we can justify all of our actions when Girl Logic is blocking your normal logic.

It’s what we do as women and I have named it Girl Logic. You welcome, now you have a name for all your dumb choices and you can blame Girl Logic instead of yourself. So next time your friends are judging you for a bad choice you made about a guy, you can say it wasn't your fault and that Girl Logic allowed you to do it.

We have a delusional sense that another man can fix the problems that we are having with a current man. Generally it never does, even just the harmless flirting, because even though you are getting attention from a random guy at the bar to make up for the lack of attention you are getting at home, you are still not getting the attention at home. But as women, we think that it will help and we continue to reason with ourselves that it will.  We lose all sense of normal human being logic and enter into Girl Logic. It is a time when good decisions are thrown out the window and you act in a way that normally, if you didn’t like a guy, you wouldn’t act.

Girl Logic is escalated after a break up, during wedding planning and when you really have feelings for a guy. This is peak time when you shouldn't be trusted to make your own choices, but we do, regardless of what our friends tell us. It’s the ability to justify almost all bad choices.  It is usually enhanced by alcohol and can cause you to  send an extra text message, call him at 3 in the morning to see how he is doing, and “casually” run into him while wearing your favorite jeans that make you have an ass like you are god damn Beyonce. Girl Logic is a bitch.

But here is my problem, Girl Logic, can’t be helped, it’s like PMS, but men categorize it as "crazy." Women are not crazy, we all know women who are "crazy" but if they were crazy they would be locked up, they are going through Girl Logic. They are probably normal human beings who make average life choices when their brain isn't being blocked by Girl Logic.

 I wish we could turn off Girl Logic because that would only be to easy, girls would get every guy they ever wanted (as long as they were in the same dating scale). As girls, we know how to play the dating game, we know what we should and shouldn’t do, we’ve read the books, we’ve given the advice, but it blocks something in our brains and makes us act like fucking idiots, like making out with Skipper roommate. That was not me, that was Girl Logic.

Day 50...Warning this post involves a huge random penis

I know you've all been like "God damn Justine, you've been whiny and boy obsessed lately. Go back to being awesome and stop having feelings!" Well, to that I say, I agree. I also say you are in for a treat. I am about to make it up to you.

I picked up an internet stalker a month or so ago, remember? Of  course you do, because you hang off of every word I write like I am Shakespeare. So you know, the one who kept messaging me, like ten times, even when I didn't reply. Him. Well, I deleted him off my phone and he popped back up last week and I was feeling sad so I messaged him back. Mistake! You give a stalker an inch and they show up at your house.

Well, I stopped replying to him and this morning the messages started again.

"hey beautiful"

"hey?"

"how's your day?"

"should I just delete you"

now I start to feel bad so I say

"I am super busy. Sorry."

I thought that he would get the hint? EVEN I WOULD GET THAT HINT! I think. I mean, that is the nicest way I could think of to end the conversation and have him get the hint that I didn't want to talk to him any more.

So this is what happens next.

BAM!!!!!!IT'S A FUCKING PENIS! IT'S A HUGE FUCKING PENIS! DOES "I AM SUPER BUSY. SORRY" ACTUALLY MEAN SEND ME A DICK PIC? BECAUSE IF IT DOES I WILL NEVER BE BUSY OR SORRY AGAIN! ( I know I shouldn't put random junk pictures online, but if you send a picture of your dick to a random girl you've never met, you are asking for it to be spread on the internet.)

Then he goes

"you like?"

I'd like if it wasn't attached to you and was attached to some one less stalkerish, creepy and better looking. 

How does one even respond to that? WHY DO PEOPLE FEEL THE NEED TO SEND ME PICTURES OF THEIR GENITALS! Do I give off some vibe that I am unaware of?  Do people think that I need to see a picture of their junk and have it saved onto my phone? I know where youporn is, I don't need your random dong on my phone. The internet is filled with them. Although the is the biggest dong I have ever seen. Except for maybe Mike's, because his is exceptionally big as well. Don't ask me how I know that. 

But seriously. What does one say back to that? I am currently taking suggestions because I have no fucking clue. So far this is what I've come up with...

Nice dick? Please don't talk to me again?

I think I've seen your dick on youporn before. I don't date men in the porn industry, please don't talk to me again.

error: I have turned into a lesbian. Sorry. (courtesy of Kirsten)

or my final idea is

I just want you to know...I write a blog...all my readers have now seen your dick. Sorry. I don't think it will work out between us. But thanks for the great blog post.

Seriously. Who does that?!

Day 42: Could be worse...you could be this guy

Have you ever looked at some one and thought to yourself; well it could be worse, I could be that person.

We all have that friend, family member, or person on Facebook that makes us think

“I can’t be that bad, I am definitely more together than that person.”

For me, it’s a guy I went to high school with. I didn’t really know him in high school, we had some mutual friends but I never sat down and had a conversation with this guy because you can tell from a mile away he is a mess and not a hot mess. I used to see him at the bar all the time when I was 18 and used to go three nights a week. The thing is, he still goes to the bar three days a week, maybe more, I know he takes up my newsfeed with misspelled words about getting F”CK UP WIZ HOMIE” and “BLAZEN WIZ THE BOIZ.”  Classy right?

Well, in case you are feeling down today and don’t have my number for me to send you a penis picture I am going to post a picture to make you feel better (see always giving).

Let’s look at every thing wrong with this picture, besides the obvious “Fuck it Lets Get DRUUNK”  that is written in green letters, and a random “u” thrown into drunk. His hat, it says 420, I am all for choosing what ever life style you want but maybe, just maybe, a hat that screams “I smoke a lot of weed and am going no where in life” is not the best choice. Then there are his sunglasses inside what appears to be a half finished basement that I am guessing is located in his parent’s house. It’s not that bright in there, there doesn’t even appear to be a window. Then we move onto his choice of facial hair. I am just going to give you a minute to soak in the sexiness of the “v” shape on his chin. It’s like the opposite of a flavor savor. Then we finish with the empty 26 of Jack. That he probably drank with his “homies” on a Tuesday night before heading down to the local peep show where his mother performs.

Wait I am not done. I can’t even come up with a sarcastic or condescending   comment to due the cat at the bottom of the picture justice. That poor cat.