SELFABSORBED.ME: Deep Thoughts

Showing posts with label Deep Thoughts. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

The Rules: For Men

The problem with all these relationship books out there is that they are all directed towards women. Most of my guy friends call me all the time with questions about girls. So why is there no book out there for them? I have decided to construct The Rules book for guys on how to get any girl in the world.

And I guarantee this advice 60 percent of the time, works everytime.

The Rules: For Men

#1- Lie. Lie as much as possible. Lie all the time. Continue to lie. Do I look good in these acid wash jeans with tiger emblems? The answer is YES. Did you mind that I don’t know how to cook? NO. Or clean? NO. Or give a good blow job? NO. Lie to me. The more lies the better. This is key in any functional relationship.

#2- For the love of Jesus I don’t want to see the Ballet either! I can’t sit through that shit. Please take me to your kind of events. I want to see your friend Joey get his face smashed between a keg and Martin’s asshole. That to me is much more exciting. Take me to a strip club, and then shove my blouse full of dollar bills so that the stripper has to eat them out one by one while your buddy Javier chants incoherent dirty Spanish phrases in the background.

#C – STOP GUIDING MY HEAD. When you are lucky enough to actually be getting head, stop holding mine! I don’t want you to touch my head. Touch my hair. Nothing. Stop guiding me into it. I don’t want your guidance. You get what you get. And that’s it. I am not here taking a blowing class from you, so stop acting like you are teaching me skills by shoving it down my throat. I get it. You want it deeper, guess what? I have a gag reflex and it’s about 2.2 seconds away from throwing up all over your balls. In fact some of my friends will stop the job all together if you even begin to touch their head. So keep your hands the fuck off my head unless you want to forfeit all BJ’s for the rest of the year.

#4B- When I call your phone. You answer it. That’s it. That’s all there is. I don’t care if you are in a shark tank being shot at by a Navy Seal while three Miami drug lords are trying to shove cocaine up your ass. You answer the damn phone! I don’t want to hear that you were “working” or “in a meeting” or “in the hospital”. Blah blah blah. You better explain to those doctors during your appendectomy that I may need to call to ask you a question and you may need to answer the phone for it, organs or no organs.

#5 – I am embarrassed that you know how to dance. I mean let’s face it. The first couple times when I was drunk I thought it was funny. Now that we are standing with all my friends during happy hour and you were dead sober dancing to OAR’s “It Was a Crazy Game of Poker”, I didn’t find it so hilarious. In fact I found it even less so hilarious, when you actually broke out in the middle of the dance floor to do some kind of Usher-meets-Justin Timberlake impression, or was it Michael Jackson? God help me if I know, all I know is that is when I started to drink. Heavily. I don’t find your dancing to be a turn on. Watching you dance is more like watching those men from the Belleview Mental Hospital try and play flag-football. It looks about the same.

#11F- You shouldn’t know how to dress. And that is fine. In fact I prefer guys who don’t know what they are doing in the clothes department. But at least admit to it. Admitting you have is a problem is the first step. Then you can get help from there. I enjoy when guys I date show up for dinner in some kind of basketball jersey and jeans they bought in ‘98 from a homeless dude’s garage sale. I like it that way. Because what else would be my purpose to you? I can’t fix engines, make you pancakes, organize for shit…at least let me impart my words of the Christian Dior kingdom upon your land.

#G- My friends are not your friends.... Plain and simple.

Your friends are my friends though.

My family is not your family.

Your family is my family however.

I need more allies then you do, so that’s just how it works. And when you break up with me, your family, your friends, my family and my friends... they will all turn on you.

#(9 ²)- Under no circumstance shall you ever make a comment about my body, unless it has to do with ummm, … perfection? When I ask you if I should go workout, you should always answer, “sure if you want to ..even though you clearly don’t need to”. Listen, I don’t care if my ass balloons up to the size of a Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade character. I don’t care if you have to strap me up to a gurney simply to have cowgirl style sex with me. You better pretend like I am light as a fucking feather. I don’t care if you go to pick me up and end up throwing out your back in the process, you better lie on the ground and tell me it was an old injury from "the war" that just sparked up and that it has nothing to do with my fat ass.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Judgy Wudgy Was A Bear

“He is a party-boy.” She said, staring at me from across the couch, running her blonde hair through her fingers.

“How do you know that?” I asked. “You just met him last night… he seemed fairly normal at the bar.”

Blondie: “Because I facebook’d him. I saw his pictures.”

Me: “Why did you have to do that, it just ruins it.”

Blondie: “I know, but when I saw the pictures, he was just drunk in every one of them.”

But isn’t that what Facebook photos are all about? If not to make people think we have better lives then we actually do, then what?

I was hoping that this “fake online life” craze had ended when MySpace started to go downhill. As one of my good friends put it, not switching to Facebook and staying with MySpace was like, “being the last one at that late night bar, where you are mid-dancing with your drink up in the air and suddenly you look around and realize that everyone has left.”

I know that whatever you put in your online Facebook or MySpace profile, is not the real you, but more an exaggerated, better looking version of you. If we all judged each other based on our online profiles you would think most of us had taken up residence at some Cancun foam party.

It is not as though Facebook or MySpace captures the “real” moments of my life. Moments when I am sitting at home reading- “Single Women Who Cry Every Night” -while clipping my snaggle-toe nail.

In fact I am fairly certain this boy’s drunken photos are simply a cover up for some kind of childhood abuse (I like to think positively). ..Or, as I assertively told her, to make up for, “his small penis”.

She claimed she hadn’t seen to yet to judge. That is rubbish.

Drunk frat photos are code for an alcoholic mother.

Similarly, drunk sorority photos imply abusive daddy issues.

I told her not to judge a book by its cover. And I meant it too, because this kid is hot, and who needs personality when your cover looks like Dean McDermott? No one. Not one damn person.

If she could eliminate boys now based on facebook, what is next? People eliminating each other based on some type of online “dating” site where they are forced to post pictures, bio information and whether they're single or divorced or what not? …. That sounds like crazy year 3000 talk. We are not that advanced here.

I myself, don’t go for all that online stuff. I like to judge people the old fashioned way. …by how much money they have.

ONLINE FACEBOOK PHOTOS THAT

MAKE US BELIEVE YOUR LIFE IS ACTUALLY COOL:

THIS IS NOT YOU

THIS IS ALSO ..NOT YOU

UMM..NOT YOU

YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DANCE WHO ARE YOU KIDDING WITH THIS ONE..NOT YOU

DEFINITELY NOT YOU

NOPE, NOT YOU

OK, THIS IS YOU, HERE WE GO

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

2010

So I woke up this morning, the sun was shining, birds were chirping, two homeless men were passed out underneath my fire escape…essentially all was right with the world. I started feeling good...really good, I haven't felt this good in awhile. And I got to thinking a lot about the things I want to ‘accomplish” not just today, but in my life. And I have realized that passing outside a dumpster at Brother Jimmies, although highly notable, may not be all I have yet to do in this world.

I have heard from many friends about ‘The List’, a topic done on The Jesus’ Hour Show, also known as “The Oprah Winfry Show’. The List includes writing down everything thing it is you want out of life, and upon seeing it on paper you will then start to accomplish these wishes.

I would like to present my readers, with my version of The List. And I would like you to all do the same and send your Lists over to me…and by “send them over to me”, I mean, “Don’t fucking send them to me unless you want to clog up my fucking email box you ungrateful…” wait..what? What are we talking about? Oh yes, Jesus…Oprah…Oprah Jesus…regardless, here goes nothing.

My list will include things I want to do/accomplish/forenscificate

by the year 2010:

1. Stop harassing the guy at Tasty Delight about getting Raspberry Fudge and throwing sprinkles in his face when I’m angry.

2. Learn how to play Phantom of the Opera on a Recorder.

3. Stop professing deep hatred for every man who doesn’t want to date me/sleep with me/ marry me. (Even though they clearly should be hated on.)

4. Realize that there are some people who are funnier than me in this world.

5. Realize I never listen to the number 4.

6. Wake up every morning with a smile on my face…..because I got laid.

7. Learn how to boil water.

8. Only date men who do two things every single day: compliment me and fuck me.

9. Stop talking so much and start listening…really listening. Like actual “paying attention” kind of listening.

10. Tell my Dad how much I love him and appreciate him.

11. Tell my Mom how much I love her and thank her for giving me a great rack.

12. Stop complaining about work… and realize everyone’s work sucks.

13. Teach small children how to do the Electric Slide.

14. Teach my one year old nephew how to say, “Dirty Martini Straight Up”.

15. Realize that no matter how beautiful I am….ummm, actually, that is the end of that sentence.

16. Stop being jealous of other people’s lives…she may be a Broadway star dating my Ex Boyfriend…but after she gets pegged in the leg by Jorge’s scooter, she won’t be.

17. Get a dog.

18. Learn how to keep a dog alive.

19. Order a round of drinks for everyone sitting at the bar.

20. Go to bars where the only people sitting there are my two best friends.

21. Stop thinking about how great college was and start thinking about how great it is to not have to have sex under a blanket in a bunk bed.

22. Telephone all my Ex’s and tell them I wish them luck with their lives.

23. Start taking xanax before I make any telephone calls.

24. Become thin enough to call other thin people ‘fat’.

25. Worry less...and drink more.

26. Stop smoking simply because I am having a bad day …and start smoking because it makes me look cool.

27. Realize the past wasn’t all that great, we just only remember bits and pieces.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Wednesday's Deep Thoughts

As we look upon the Olympics to restore our sense of pride and nationalism

I look at the waving flags, team unity,

proud athletes

and smiling faces in the crowd...and all I can think is...

Damn, I would have to hit every keg on the block to ever

fuck Michael Phelps without him putting some kind of paper bag over that face.

My eyes! Somebody burn my eyes!

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

SLEEP…AND OTHER THINGS THAT ARE OVERRATED...

So as I laid awake last night, thinking about life, money, taxes, death, if those protesters for Barnum and Baileys really do give a damn about the elephants…I also wondered, “why am I laying here awake? Why can my body not realize it is finally time to rest? How come during those 3pm hours at work when I want to pass out with my highlighter and a post-it glued to my ass cannot I not recall that feeling right at this moment?”

A good friend of mine recently paid full price for a non-healthcare-covered sleep medication so she could finally spend some time with her pillow instead of with her eyes wide open. Another friend of mine had to finally get her boyfriend on sleep medication after he had missed the third happy hour party at McFaddens to get in a good five hour nap, since he was not sleeping at night.

I don’t know many things in life, but I do know one thing… if you are missing DRINKING, so you can sleep, then you need to go see some kind of medical person who carries thermometers immediately.

Why are none of us sleeping? Should our bodies not be programmed to sleep? Did not the Cavemen sleep? Were there restless cavemen in the days of Yore, or the time of Yesteryear? After lifting boulders all day, do you think Caveman #1 would lay awake at night thinking, “What if I can’t pay my dinosaur fees? What if I cannot afford to buy that new dinosaur? Will my Boulder credit go bad? “

Another friend of mine (yes, I know, I make up these “friend” people, really they are just random drunks I find on the street to answer my survey questions) actually takes time to get out of bed and take notes in a journal, which helps him fall back asleep afterwards.

Writing in a journal is the last thing I would do as mine would be more ill-consuming then the friggin Diary of Anne Frank…mainly consisting of scribbling about my Ex Boyfriend’s third nipple and how I am going to get out of my dental bill through magician trickery.

Is there anyone out there actually sleeping? Who is even getting a full eight hours? I hear when you have kids the first year you are lucky if you get four hours straight. Four hours?! Jesus Christ I got four hours under the bar stool last Saturday…what will I do then? I will have to Zoloft my baby up.

My baby’s first two words will be, “Xanax” and “Don’t wake Mommy when she is fucking sleeping”.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

My Apologies..And A Picture Story

So I apologize my dear readers for being so distant recently...I have been a horrible blogger, waiting almost a week to repost, not commenting on anyone's pages..talking shit about all of you to my Mom....I have just been a bad bad blogger and I deserve a serious spanking...from someone whom is very very hot ...(I am guessing Cajun Boy, you might be up for this challenge?)

But I digress.

There is a reason for this and it is called having a severe, scientific case of, "moppyness". You see I am having what some people might refer to as "problems with the men-folk".

I don't understand what is going on with me recently. There have been many men in the past three months that have come in and out of my life , including a few ex boyfriends as well...and for some reason I cannot get a firm grip on anything. They all keep drifting in and out of my life like the bad service waiters at the Times Square TGIFridays who never bring you back the lemon for your water because all I wanted was a LEMON AND A DAMN SIDE OF HONEY MUSTARD!

Instead of going into some deep long post about my "feelings" and why I have been feeling so "depressed" recently and blahdiddy blah blah..I figured I would do a picture story...because AIN'T THAT SPECIAL...

SO recently I have been a bit of this:

Which has subsequently lead me to much of this:

Now to help myself I have gone with the timeless remedy of lots of this:

And some even more of this:

Which unfortunately ends up making a lot of this happen:

That is normally followed by some of these:

Which actually looks more like some of these:

Which is followed by more of this:

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Military Boy...Part 2

So I have this fantasy. And not like a sexual fantasy....and not even like my normal fantasy where a bunch of firemen come to a roof deck in Brazil to show me their hoses. Seriously, their hoses, I mean you just can’t even believe how strong the water flow is on those damn things.

But I digress:

So I have been having a fantasy about Military Boy...a “daydream” if you "intellectuals" will.

It goes something like this.

Military Boy gets hurt in Iraq…but not like hurt-hurt, just something small, just something small enough where they have to send him back home. Maybe like gets a pinkie finger blown off or something, something that doesn’t really matter. Or gets appendicitis …yes! That’s it! Needs an appendectomy…or maybe a really bad bladder infection (can dudes get those?).

So he gets this “small injury” and they need to send him home…but not just home, to a hospital…and not to just any hospital...but whatever medical procedure they need to do to him can only be done by the hospital that is a block away from my apartment. Because the only real appendectomies place happens to be across the street. And his family, well his poor family, is out there living in the South, probably miles away from running water and cannot fly to come see him…..

Who is the bitch in the white dress trying to steal my thunder?

So guess who he has to call? …No no, not the girls from Scores... no, he has to call ME ..And I walk into the hospital room, and he is laying there and looks up, and I am like a vision, probably wearing my purple dress with the V-Neck that caused me to max out my Banana Republic card, and it breezes around as I walk in the room, because there is always a light breeze from somewhere.

I spend the whole week with him, caring for him and I bring gifts and fruit and laptops and puppies....And by the time his parents finally arrive at the hospital, I am laying there on the hospital couch, asleep... Exhausted from all the “caring”.

And his parents look over at me and then look at Military Boy and say, “wow, she must be one amazing woman to stay here with you all this time.” And he bows his head and says, “She is Mom…she really is…”

End Scene.

Soooo, I know what you’re thinking…this could really happen…right?

Friday, April 11, 2008

Friday's Deep Thoughts

So I figured on this warm, sunny Friday I would do a special post that is near and dear to my heart...called Things I Hate. I tried to think of a more creative title for that but 'When Snow White Feeds Animals and is Happy Living with Seven Sober Men' didn't fit in the title as well.

So now let us begin:

THINGS I HATE

Nature

I am not oh-so-fond of the whole 'living things' surrounding me. Things that suck

up all my air and steal my water. I am not a fan of the whole "Birds" and "trees"

and things "that are beautiful and green". I enjoy nature right where it should be... in fake soil at the mall's atrium.

CHILDREN

Now I agree with what you are thinking, which is, Kim,this is quite an obvious one! I mean listen, sometimes I just don't need their happy smiling faces on people under the age of 21 trying to "change the world" and other bullshit like that. I prefer my children to be in a gated mall atrium as well.

COUPLES

Somewhere in the bible Jesus is quoted as saying something along the lines of , "People in love will be killed by a thunderbolt!" Now you can go ahead and try and correct me if you think I am wrong, but listen , Jesus and I are tight, and I know that even if he didn't get that quote mentioned in there, I know he was thinking it.

The scene in the Lion King when they sing Circle of Life and present the baby

Now I don't know about you, but this does not make me cry, this doesn't even give me tingles all over my entire body (especially my knees) ...and not only that but it doesn't even give me tingles and make my eyes well up with hot tears when I am staring at simply this picture right now. Damn you LION KING! DAMN YOU!

ahh....Did I mention Children?

BACKYARDS

Want to know what I want to see when I look out my back window? Asphalt. Lots and lots of asphalt. And possibly a homeless person sleeping on it, or some chalk outline bodies...or maybe even trash, how about some good ol' trash? When I look out my window and I see cement and a person frozen to concrete.... I know I am home.

Friday, April 4, 2008

The Weekend'ers Deep Thoughts

ummm...because..it's the weekend?

-----------------

My young son asked me what happens after we die. I told him we get buried under a bunch of dirt and worms eat our bodies. I guess I should have told him the truth - that most of us go to Hell and burn eternally - but I didn't want to upset him.”
Jack Handy quote

Friday, February 29, 2008

Quarter-Life...Quarter -Lies

Having actually sat down with some with a new device…no, kids, a new ‘remote control’, let’s not live in fantasy land…or at least MY fantasy land thank you… I finally got around to watching the first ever episode of Quarter Life. It was just me.. a bottle of wine…and a bottle of percocets. It was very cozy to say the least. Now about ten minutes into the show I became utterly enraged… and no it wasn’t just the fact that the Tottino Rolls in the oven set at 475 burst into flames…or even that the neighbors above me where having mind-blowing sex again while I figured out a way to tighten my retainer….it was more so about how they were portraying my generation to millions of viewers across the United States. I was rather disbarred by the context of the show and I feel as though I need to directly address all the misinformation shown about life in your mid-twenties.

For starters….the main girl lives with two roommates. WHAT?! That is blasphemy! We 20-somethings do not live with roommates…we live in our own luxury one bedrooms with marble counter tops and pristine hot-tub bathrooms. I personally like to come home after work to my huge penthouse, say hello to my doorman Benjamin, go inside my 20 million gold plated door, sit on my leather couch, stroking my white cat and singing along to Mariah Carey’s ‘Honey’ …but hey, that’s only when I don’t have a spa appointment.

Let us move on to the next “LIE” if you will. The main girl is a ….wait for it…wait for it...a blogger (WHAT?!)…who doesn’t like her real job (WHO?!)….is attracted to a guy who isn’t attracted to her (WHEN?!) ….and thinks her blond roommate sleeps around too much (WHERE?!) …Now I think I can pretty much speak for every 20-something out when I say…these are just outright silly lies. I mean, who wrote this stuff?!

All I know for sure is whoever did write this clearly knows nothing about being in you 20’s, because if he or she did, they would understand that being in your 20's is a pure, magical, joy, unlike any other, where there are no bad feelings, life is all about fun, no stress and the last time I cried was out of a fit of joy when my rent check came in. Someone realty needs to go speak with these producers and let them know what is going on and how to portray a more accurate account of 25 year old life next time. Now if you will excuse me Mr Whiska's needs to go get fed his kitty caviar now.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

College Drinking And Express Pants

I know this bitch...she slept with myboyfriend in 2001...so smashed her fucking grapes

A friend of mine was recently reminiscing over how in college we used to live right across the street from a bar....as opposed to now how we….well, live across the street from four bars. But it is not the same I tell ya! Not the same at all!

For starters, the first college bar I ever went to, I almost got arrested at. (Hi Mom and Dad!)

And that is why it is so precious and special in my memories. It was a Mexican place that served 19 dollar burritos and 2 dollar drafts….I don’t know why or how things like that work, I just know it makes them even more magical, because you can only afford the side-plate of refried beans, so no one ever has enough money to both eat AND drink….so we just drank and would have seven of us share the garden salad appetizer.

Brilliant.

Made with pride and love...and a whole lotta dog meat

The night of the almost-arrest occurred like most others…it was 2001 and I had just walked out of my dorm room in boot cut black pants and a fluorescent Express tank top. It was all the rage. I was fairly obsessed with 112's Peaches & Cream and was banking on hearing that and Train’s Drops of Jupiter (the remix) that night. When I smiled at the ID Checker that night I handed over my fake Maryland ID with a 555 Street Lane address and about 5000 fucking emblems on it that stated, ‘This Is Not A Real ID’.

Good thing the 70-something lady in the smock dress who just moved to America last week was the one checking my ID.

About an hour or so into the evening I was on my fourth, Malibu-Baybreeze-Candy-Cotton-Blue-Serpent drink when out of nowhere about seven cops bum rushed the front door. Well like most normal, underage, college students we stopped mid-grind on the dance floor to start screaming. Yes. Screaming. You would have thought the building was being attacked by a sea monster the way the shrieks were coming out…and that was just from the guys. In a mad panic we all started trying to make our way out of every exit that we possibly could. I remember vividly throwing my fake ID to the ground, which was now literally covered in fake ID’s. About a hundred Joses Moses from California titled the ground.

Amongst all the commotion I remember my friend Molly grabbing me by the hand and pushing me out through one of the exits. Being that I am little I rely on tall people to save me in situations, as normally I just sit there helpless and cry calling out for my Papi.

Just then two cops spotted us and started shouting, ‘YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW, HEY, SOMEONE GRAB THOSE LADIES RUNNING DOWN THE STREET…IN…WHAT ARE THOSE…BOOT CUT BLACK PANTS?...AND A NEON TOP?..."

Molly and I and about four other girls just keep booking it back to our dormitory, along with hundreds of other kids all trying to squeeze out every exit possible. The best part though was that Blu Cantrell was still blasting outside the Mexican doors, and the old lady who checked my ID just kept saying to the officers , “BUT WE SERVE BURRITOS!”

Now I still to this do not understand her explanation to the cops, but I do know whenever I get in trouble now, or have to explain my drinking to anyone over the age of 20, I just like to turn to them and say, “But we serve burritos!”

Friday, February 22, 2008

Friday's Deep Thoughts

If you ever feel like all is lost and things are hopeless...just look up to the sky.. close your eyes...

and start walking in a northeast direction until you hit my apartment building, then come over and clean that shit out of my bathtub drain that has been there forever and is causing a serious clog.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Friday's In Case You Missed: Lipstick Jungle

In case you missed Lipstick Jungle last night, let me recall a quick summary for you.

There are three women claiming to be in their late 30’s/early 40’s, all of whom appear to be nearing early 60’s.

Hey Marge, where's your pad bitch? ...let's go get some wine and talk about sex.

They live in houses…no wait, those are…NYC apartments? Oh right, I am sorry I forgot for a moment that they live in fantasy land. Unless one of these bitches is the Queen of England, they are by no means representing the ‘average’ working-woman apartment. Let me tell you, I am waiting for the show when one of these Gucci clad women comes home to her 121st street East Harlem pad, kicks the homeless guy off her doorstep and steps inside to the shit show of mice and bad plumbing... then folks, we got a cable television show.

First off, the one bitch who is a “fashion designer” appears to make more money then Pete Doherty’s drug dealer, and is dating some guy who flies around in a jet. Honey listen, if you are single and forty, you are lucky if a guy pays for your Metropass on the 181 bus, let alone has a flying machine.

Even worse is the one whose name I can’t figure out, Windy? Winnie? Winley? I prefer to call her, Whatthefuck? Or WTF. Well, WTF apparently has phone conversations with Leonardo DiCaprio. Which prompts me to the biggest question of all…when did heads of a major movie companies live in NYC? The answer is...they don't..they live in LA. Puh-lease bitch. And to top it off, The Leo does not CALL anyone. The Leo has people who call people for him. The Leo does not touch dirty things like ‘phones’, he is too busy tanning on a hammock drinking water made with diamonds.

The worst tragedy of all of course is the blond one who is trying to sleep with some hot 20-year old. First off, in real life, that dude would just want a job…or some kind of job, at least. Second off, your ‘revenge’ to some prick who is trying to mess with your company is to ‘oversalt’ his food at the table. Oh SNAP! Don’t oversalt my food, please, no stop, I might, become…DEHYDRATED!

The final scene ends in them crying and hugging. While the fashion bitch tries to make a witty comment about her roof deck.

It was simply too much to handle.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Friday's Deep Thoughts

If God was to be aged in years…that would make him what?... 102? 103? And if God were to know all the humans on earth and want to communicate with them, via Verizon (it DOES have the largest network)….would he have to use an old-man cell phone like the Jitterbug?…with large scale numbers and display? Would Jitterbug give God a cell phone plan for free? Does God get a mail-in rebate? Where would the rebate be mailed back to?... And more importantly…does Verizon sell Jitterbugs?

Monday, January 14, 2008

Dating Do's and Don'ts (also know as- dating advice from a Shallow Bitch)

Who are these mexican douchbags? I hope they stop "talking" and start

"sexing" pretty soon, jeez Louise!

Walking my roommate to yet another date (no I did not go on it with her, I only walked there cause it was on my way to the bookstore although I bet that dude would have been stoked to have two English majors grinding his ass) we talked about the feelings she was experiencing walking there, about to meet some guy who could possibly be her future boyfriend. The feelings we came up with were: fear, dread and nausea. Why are all first dates so fucking bad? Even when they are good they are bad. Welcome to the worst interview of your life, the one where you have to be charming and witty, and smell good and not fart. I mean it’s so much pressure I get a little bit of back vomit just thinking about it. I have a ‘marrying’ list, of all the men in my life who I have resume myself to marry when I get to the “scary age” ("75") ... I do this mostly so I will never have to go on a first date ever again. I plan on scanning the list drunk one night with my eyes closed... point my finger and whomever it lands on gets a phone call and a flight to Vegas (accompanied by lots of date rape drugs of their choice- remember those horror stories back in the 90’s of people getting drugged at bars and the next morning waking up in a tub full of ice with their kidney’s stolen for money? Well those are the kind of drugs I am talking about). John is keeping his fingers crossed right at this very moment that he is the lucky choosen one.

I have been on enough first dates to teach a class on them (I normally carry around some library microfiche and a projector at all times anyway). Here is my list of Dating Do’s and Don’ts coming first hand from a real expert…and by ‘a real expert’ I do mean ‘a real asshole’.

Dating Don’ts:

- Don’t talk about yourself. I don’t care about your job, your education, your money, that you were adopted from “Korea”.. blah blah blah….I do care that you laugh at my jokes, ask me about my job, my education, and how I was adopted from the “Mall of America”
- Change the rule above from, “don’t talk about yourself” to just “don’t talk”. All women really want out of life is a good looking mute anyway. The only time I will ever enjoy your voice is when it is screaming my name later covered in a bathtub of jello. So until I start boiling the sugar water, just shut it.
- Don’t wear anything that is too outdoorsy. No construction boots. Just don’t. I don’t have time to even get into explaining this one. I don’t even think there are enough words in the universe that can go into explaining this one. And don’t wear anything from LLBean. Are we chopping wood and whittling a toothpick into a stool?... No? …Swimming wild rapids with salmon swimming upstream?... No? …Eating bear meat from inside a tree-bark tent and shitting in a dirt hole? …No? …Then just don’t.
- Change the rule above from “don’t wear anything too outdoorsy” to, “don’t wear anything”. I prefer my men to just show up naked ready to go. (Editor’s note- this also helps enforce rule number 1, the no talking rule).

Dating Do’s

- Do lie to make yourself seem like a much more attractable kind of person. Women love it when men lie, they practically force you to lie. The more lies the better. Women can't handle the truth, so the more lies you can produce the more you are on your way to a successful relationship. Example: - “ Yeah so I work at Morgan Stanley... yup, made the twenty thousand bonus just last week….I didn’t take it though…gave it all to charity…the charity for battered women living in the city….Yeah I live in a penthouse place…but I house homeless people there on weekends…either there or I let them sleep in my Porsche…”… See how the lie was so much cooler?

- Do be an asshole. Women LOVE assholes. Take it from me, the more you insult me, beat me down, the more I will want to know you. No woman wants a nice guy. Nice guys are beige, And nothing is worse then beige….except maybe beige with white trim…but that is a whole OTHER story.

I hope you have learned something today about life and living. And that you can come back and give me a full report on your dating experiences and how I ultimately changed your life. Some people call me “Kim” and others confuse my name for “Guru”… take that as you will.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Tuesday Night's Deep Thoughts

I was in Starbucks the other day, writing this column and I started thinking about things I did in my life that made me feel like I have truly contributed to society. Things like, volunteered at a soup kitchen… read to children in a shelter…told a fat women not to buy anything corduroy… Of all the good things I remember though…there is one incident that stands out in my mind. NYCares allowed me to go read bedtime stories to the children at the Ichan Housing Project on the West Side. After reading two short stories some of the other little girls began to crowd around me on the floor. “You’re pretty.” One of them said. “I know.” I said. “But…” The little girl continued. “You have roots..” She then pointed her finger to the top of my scalp where my highlights ended. I looked at her standing in her tattered clothes, her barely full belly protruding, arms mangled and bruised. I stopped reading, softened my eyes and said,. “Well, you’re homeless…and your mama is a hoe….” I then smiled, and felt truly blessed.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Friday, April 11, 2008

Friday, April 4, 2008

Friday, February 29, 2008

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Friday, February 22, 2008

Friday, February 8, 2008

Friday, January 18, 2008

Monday, January 14, 2008

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

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