Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Truth About Internet Dating
From time to time, people will ask me if I have any "crazy internet dating stories," or respond to one of my tales with, "Have you thought about meeting guys another way than internet dating?"
I'm here to tell you that many of the best and brightest in my galaxy of losers were from real life.
I met the harmonica-playing comic through two friends. He arrived to our third date reeking of alcohol; had an out-loud debate with himself about whether he should have dinner (our plans were for 8 pm on Saturday); pounded Scotch, red wine, tequila, and beer through the course of the evening; took me to a bar where he "happened" to be scheduled to perform; bombed and then refused to get off stage and get into insult-wars with the audience instead; then had a meltdown about "why" I had to see this. He took me home on the subway, because guess what... he had another show to get to, where the same thing happened. The whole time he muttered, "I'm sweet on you" and rested his head on my shoulder. (Great idea for anyone dating a tall chick and hoping to make her feel Amazonian, btw.)
I met the poet at the ice rink where I sometimes skate–you know, doing what I love or whatever. His borderline/narcissistic/Asperger's constellation exploded when he called to cancel the date he'd asked me on, then un-cancel but with the caveat, "Okay, but we should part ways right after dinner," then un-changed his mind and tagged along on the plans I'd made to have a drink with a friend after. Also: vegan restaurant, and that godforsaken Romanian movie about abortion. Way to wow a lady. Oh, then it turns out he just got dumped by his fiance three weeks before we met, which is exactly when he decided to take up hockey at the out-of-the-way rink where she works. When I said it wasn't working for me he yelled that he was fine now, he only freaked out that one day because he was afraid I'd want to sleep with him. (After all his talk of antidepressant-related side effects, how could I not?) So why wouldn't I just give him a chance? I still get his e-mail newsletters.
I met Strawberry Mulroney at a bar—again, doing what I love. We had two dates in September and he continued to leave me 1 AM voice mails at work through the following February. He's the reason I have window guards now.
Just saying.
I'm here to tell you that many of the best and brightest in my galaxy of losers were from real life.
I met the harmonica-playing comic through two friends. He arrived to our third date reeking of alcohol; had an out-loud debate with himself about whether he should have dinner (our plans were for 8 pm on Saturday); pounded Scotch, red wine, tequila, and beer through the course of the evening; took me to a bar where he "happened" to be scheduled to perform; bombed and then refused to get off stage and get into insult-wars with the audience instead; then had a meltdown about "why" I had to see this. He took me home on the subway, because guess what... he had another show to get to, where the same thing happened. The whole time he muttered, "I'm sweet on you" and rested his head on my shoulder. (Great idea for anyone dating a tall chick and hoping to make her feel Amazonian, btw.)
I met the poet at the ice rink where I sometimes skate–you know, doing what I love or whatever. His borderline/narcissistic/Asperger's constellation exploded when he called to cancel the date he'd asked me on, then un-cancel but with the caveat, "Okay, but we should part ways right after dinner," then un-changed his mind and tagged along on the plans I'd made to have a drink with a friend after. Also: vegan restaurant, and that godforsaken Romanian movie about abortion. Way to wow a lady. Oh, then it turns out he just got dumped by his fiance three weeks before we met, which is exactly when he decided to take up hockey at the out-of-the-way rink where she works. When I said it wasn't working for me he yelled that he was fine now, he only freaked out that one day because he was afraid I'd want to sleep with him. (After all his talk of antidepressant-related side effects, how could I not?) So why wouldn't I just give him a chance? I still get his e-mail newsletters.
I met Strawberry Mulroney at a bar—again, doing what I love. We had two dates in September and he continued to leave me 1 AM voice mails at work through the following February. He's the reason I have window guards now.
Just saying.
Confidential To The Guy I Had to "Break Up" With Three Weeks After Meeting Him and Who's Added Me To His "Newsletter" Mass Mailing List
Nobody wants to read your poems, dude.
Also, sheets are in this year.
Also, sheets are in this year.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Suggested Professional Guidelines
We're now 7 sessions into chemistry and preparing for our first test. Let me be clearer: A 27-question, multiple choice test.
Class works like this: Our teacher displays her notes on an overhead projector. She reads them one sentence at a time. Before she is done, someone screams "Wait, what??!!" She begins repeating herself, and then another student yells "Huh?" Let me build you a word picture.
Teacher (insert thick Eastern European accent of your choosing): Now we are going to talk about the properties of metals. 1. They are malleable, which means...
Student: They are what??!
Teacher: Malleable, meaning they can be hammered into sheets.
Student: Into what?!
Teacher: Thin sheets.
Student: Tin sheets?
Teacher: Thin sheets.
Student: Wait, what's that word up there?
Teacher: Sheets.
Student: Wait, what can be hammered into sheets?
Teacher: Metals.
Note: This is not exaggerated for comedic effect.
This continues until every two minutes or so we've covered a one-sentence concept that's both on the projector and in our reading. Obviously we've covered very little ground, so there's little to panic about regarding our upcoming test. That said, there's a free test review study session on Sunday from 4 to 6 that most students are planning to attend. And students frequently exchange stories about how many times they went to tutoring that week. For THIS shit. (FTS is going to be my new WTF. Enjoy.)
Most of the class is pre-nursing and while I usually (aka never) believe that anyone can do what they put their mind to, here I'm forced to put my foot down. If you need tutoring three times a week FTS, you should not be in healthcare, nor in any other field. Turn in your human being license. Your work here is done.
I'm talking to you, grown white lady with Candy Finnegan hair! Seriously, if you are dedicated to grasping the concepts behind our simple lessons, study sessions like this are not going to help. Go to Harvard or something. How loveless is your marriage if you're seeking validation by being the most participatory student in a high-school-level chemistry class at a community college PLEASE?
I would be far more annoyed right now were it not for my new blood pressure meds. Who'd have figured me for a candidate for those?!
Class works like this: Our teacher displays her notes on an overhead projector. She reads them one sentence at a time. Before she is done, someone screams "Wait, what??!!" She begins repeating herself, and then another student yells "Huh?" Let me build you a word picture.
Teacher (insert thick Eastern European accent of your choosing): Now we are going to talk about the properties of metals. 1. They are malleable, which means...
Student: They are what??!
Teacher: Malleable, meaning they can be hammered into sheets.
Student: Into what?!
Teacher: Thin sheets.
Student: Tin sheets?
Teacher: Thin sheets.
Student: Wait, what's that word up there?
Teacher: Sheets.
Student: Wait, what can be hammered into sheets?
Teacher: Metals.
Note: This is not exaggerated for comedic effect.
This continues until every two minutes or so we've covered a one-sentence concept that's both on the projector and in our reading. Obviously we've covered very little ground, so there's little to panic about regarding our upcoming test. That said, there's a free test review study session on Sunday from 4 to 6 that most students are planning to attend. And students frequently exchange stories about how many times they went to tutoring that week. For THIS shit. (FTS is going to be my new WTF. Enjoy.)
Most of the class is pre-nursing and while I usually (aka never) believe that anyone can do what they put their mind to, here I'm forced to put my foot down. If you need tutoring three times a week FTS, you should not be in healthcare, nor in any other field. Turn in your human being license. Your work here is done.
I'm talking to you, grown white lady with Candy Finnegan hair! Seriously, if you are dedicated to grasping the concepts behind our simple lessons, study sessions like this are not going to help. Go to Harvard or something. How loveless is your marriage if you're seeking validation by being the most participatory student in a high-school-level chemistry class at a community college PLEASE?
I would be far more annoyed right now were it not for my new blood pressure meds. Who'd have figured me for a candidate for those?!
I am RUINED
I hate when I find out I'm part of a larger trend instead of the beautiful and unique snowflake I imagine myself to be.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Science Comes Alive!
Enjoy this joke from my teacher, who wants to help us really remember stuff:
A proton walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender pours him one and says "That'll be five dollars." A neutron walks in and orders a beer. The bartender pours him one and the nuetron gets out his wallet to pay. The bartender says, "For you, no charge."
GET IT?!?!
A proton walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender pours him one and says "That'll be five dollars." A neutron walks in and orders a beer. The bartender pours him one and the nuetron gets out his wallet to pay. The bartender says, "For you, no charge."
GET IT?!?!
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