I’m not really sure what this blog is going to be about, I just haven’t written in a while and know I need to write something soon. People be all up on me, askin me to write. Ya heard. Or something to that extent, but it’s time. Some of you might wonder? How does he do it!? How does Single Steve write his hilarious blogs?? Actually I bet nobody cares, or thinks they’re hilarious, but I’m going to tell you anyways. I have a routine. Step one is to say your going to write a blog then wait a month. Then wait until the last possible time to write it. I usually don’t even start typing until about 11:00pm, because I’m the worlds biggest procrastinator. Step 2 is to have as much media and distractions on as possible. I have a web browser open with my 3 defaults of facebook, twitter and gmail, which I toggle between OCD like every 15 seconds. I have Conan on mute, which is still surprisingly very entertaining, I have my Glee station on Pandora going. Yeah, I said Glee. Yes, I’m straight. Yes, I’m sure. Step 3 is begin word vomit. I open up a blank word document and start with the title. Usually all I need is the title, and the rest seems to write itself. It usually takes about an hour for me to complete my word vomit, which is pretty quick in comparison, it would take me hours to write the same length paper for my class papers. I think this is because when I write blogs I basically just sit down and write stream of conscious style, no back button, no grammar check, whatever brain thinks, finger types, sometimes I check the spelling, sometimes I don’t. I know this drives some of you crazy, but to be fair, I’m a not writer, no aspirations of being a writer, and even calling myself a “blogger” is comical to me. When I started writing blogs back in myspace days, I wasn’t doing it to be a blogger. I was doing it to make my exgirlfriend look like a cheating whore. Isn’t that how all good blogs get started? Now when I write its with the intention of entertainment and to trick girls into mating with me. I mean dating with me. No, I meant mating with me. Not that this blog is anything, this is still small potatoes in the world wide web, but it’s definitely more than what I was expecting it to be when I started it years ago. Calling myself a blogger is comincal to think about, isn’t that like saying I have a level 47 paladin with a plus two mace? Do girls like bloggers? I was at a NYE party this weekend and my friend Nicole introduced me as “Steven <pause for 1.3 seconds>, he has a blog”. GREAT. My chance of them being my midnight kiss went from zero percent to “I might mace him if he gets closer” percent.

Actually this bring me to a very important question. I need your input. Please comment and let me know your thoughts: At what point do I tell the girls I’m dating that I have a blog? Immediately? Never? I’m assuming the girl I will be dating doesn’t know about the blog, because what girl would date me after knowing I have this blog? Actually Another question to the females: Is this blog a deal breaker?

Anyways, I digress, back to the title. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be writing about? Maybe I should change the title to “Word Vomit”, then I could write about anything I want and technically still be within bounds? Okay, okay, back to how “Being Funny Never Got Anyone Laid.”

Realistically I still disagree with you. I still think being funny never got anyone laid. Hear me out. I’m saying in general. I know it’s happened before and will happen again. So please refrain from sending me pictures of how ugly you are and how attractive your girlfriend is, I believe you. Actually you can send me pictures of your attractive girlfriend, I ‘m not going to stop you. Every girl says they want someone funny, I know this because every single online dating profile I have ever read, makes reference to a guy with a sense of humor or being funny. Which to me, is obvious right? Do we really need to state we want to date/mate with someone who’s funny? Isn’t that like saying, must not be a jerk, must breathe air, or must have arms? No offense to anyone without arms. But who doesn’t like to laugh!? I can’t think of a single person who doesn’t appreciate humor. If they don’t like to laugh, they probably shouldn’t be dating anyways because we don’t want to pass on their genes. I think Darwin would have my back on this one.
Listen to what I’m saying “Being Funny Never Got Anyone Laid.” LAID. Laid is the keyword here. I didn’t say “Being Funny Never Got Anyone In a Relationship, Like The Serious Kind, Where You Change Your Facebook Profile”. I’m NOT saying that.

What I’m saying is, no girl on planet earth, has ever been at a bar, leaned over to her girlfriend sitting down next to her and said “OMG that guy across the bar, looks hilarious, I think I’m going to go talk to him” Or “OMG that guy across the bar, looks like a nice guy, with a good job, who would treat me nicely, I think I’m going to go talk to him, what’s more likely is “OMG that guy across the bar, has a bejewled tiger on his shirt, I think I’m going to go talk to him” or “OMG that guy across the bar, has amazing deltoids, and I don’t even know what deltoids do, I think I’m going to go talk to him.”

WHICH is 100 percent fair. Absolutely. Guys do the exact same thing. Exact. Initial physical attraction is extremely important. So what am I getting at. We are all shallow. All of us. At least initially, and that’s okay. And I’m not looking to just get laid because of some physical or personality qualities, well I am, but believe it or not I like relationships, I like being in relationships, I want to have just one forever lasting epic relationship <insert puking in your mouth here>. I know this will pain you for me to say this, but I’d rather be in a relationship than single. As comical being single is for you and me. The bar is only an example, shallowness happens everywhere, and why this whole thing came up I guess is because I’ve seen it translated to online dating. I think? I hope? Otherwise I have no way of explaining how I am in communicating with 672 females on eharmony.com. And it’s not just eharmony, I have zero point zero percent luck on any of the online dating websites. Remember that time I made a fake profile of:

http://www.okcupid.com/profile/SanDiegoSam/
I made that fake profile as an experiment to see if online dating was as shallow as I thought. My hypothesis was correct.

For more details check out the blog: http://www.singlesteve.com/2009/03/i%E2%80%99m-too-awesome-to-date/

And some of you are probably screaming, “YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO MEET A GIRL AT A BAR OR ONLINE DATING!”, I can tell you’re yelling because you used Caps locks. At this point you urge me to go out and just do things in the community and meet women doing the things I like doing. “It will happen naturally”, you say. I say shut your fucking mouth when your talking to me. I’m doing that all stuff, and more. I’m doing that like it’s my job. In fact, if I could brag for second, I actually do so much community ish, that I was nominated and selected as a key influencer for San Diego and I will be getting the opportunity to take a flight in a Blue Angel next year. Yeah. You heard right, a Blue Angel!? I’m pretty excited, it’s like uber bucket list type of thing.

I’m not really sure how that fits into this blog, but I really just wanted to brag. You would too. Where was I……I think I was complaining about online dating, wha wha wha. Woah is me type of thing. Anyways I’m over online dating, I’m just waiting for my eharmony.com subscription to end, then I’ll have to find some other way to waste my money on girls I’m not dating.

Speaking of, let me tell you about the last date I went on. It’s the first date I’ve been on in months, I was pretty optimistic about it. Somehow I managed to get through all 17 steps of eharmony, and to an actual date!? So I pick her up, and we go to my default Italian restaurant (I know, I know, I need to venture out more, but to my defense this was kind of a last minute date coordination), we have a bottle of wine with our delicious dinner. General awkward first date type of conversation. I suggest we go to Balboa Nights, she suggest we keep drinking, good sign number 1. So we keep drinking. We stroll down to the wine bar, a block down, where we proceed to have another bottle of delicious wine. Conversations going well, I guess? She’s definitely shy, but loosening up after 2 bottles of wine. We’re sitting close, with one hand on my leg and the other on my arm resting on the table. Things are going pretty well? She suggest we get another bottle of wine…..I tell her, if I have another bottle of wine, I will be unable to drive her home…..with the assumption we would both just go back to my place blocks away….she says yes, lets get another bottle of wine. Dear Diary. So we finish the 3^rd bottle of wine, at this point we were both versnickered obviously. We are actually in such poor shape, I insist we take a taxi for the 4 blocks back to my place, as opposed to the 30 minute epic walk it was sure to going to be at that point. We get back to my place…..I’m pretty excited at this point, like the first time I heard the Beatles type of thing, so we start kissing, well what she considered to be kissing. She was the worst kisser I’ve kissed since 8^th grade, no not you Hillary Volsteadt. It was the worst thing ever, it was terrible, absolutely the worst. It’s hard to explain, but imagine if someone were to just hold there mouth slightly open with no lip movements, with their tongue slightly out. Yeah, I would later compare it to kissing a corpse to my friends. Kissing someone who doesn’t move anything is awkward. And then when she did “use” her tongue, she jabbed it out like a lizard and just kept it out, like she was trying to touch her nose? It was a complete turn off. I went from thinking it was going to be boom boom time, to thinking I’ll never be able to get an erection again. That’s a little dramatic, but after the bad kissing boom boom was definitely not going to be happening. “But Steven, couldn’t you just bang without kissing her??”, I could but then wouldn’t that make her a hooker? I like to kiss. I love to kiss. If I had to pick kissing or sex for the rest of my life, I would pick kissing. Sex is great don’t get me wrong, but kissing can be done a lot more places, a lot more times, and I don’t need to apologize for only kissing for 15 seconds. We continue to “kiss”, until we lie down in my bed in which I promptly fell into a coma to avoid kissing anymore. Of course I cuddled the shit out of her, I love cuddling, and haven’t had a good cuddle in months, so at least that felt good. I never went on a second date with the bad kisser. It’s a deal breaker. It’s not my job to teach a 27 year old to kiss. MAYBE under different circumstances, if I could see other personality qualifiers I would like to pursue. Well try again next time.

Now let me tell you about the best non date I’ve been on in a long time. It was my date for my company’s holiday party. Now date is a strong word, granted she was my “date”, but it was more like she agreed to accompany me to my party. I’ve never had any romantical interactions with her prior, I’ve know her since sophomore year in college. Actually,truth be told, I actually had a super crush on her in college, like ridiculous, teenage dream type of thing. We both worked at the same photography company, I was a photographer and she did some office work type stuff. She’s hilarious, outgoing, goofy, witty, smart, and beautiful. So now you can see why 19 year old Steven had a crush on her. Did 19 year old Steven do anything about it? You better believe it! I walked right up to her, looked deeply into her in the eyes and asked her out. Oh wait, no I didn’t. Now that I think about it 19 year old Steven didn’t do a thing. That’s okay, she’s one of those out of my league girls, that I was just content that she knew my name. So flash forward 8 years later, we both live in San Diego now, kept in contact, see each other every so often at our local alumni events, still just happy she knows my name, So sure, my 19 year old crush for sure went away, because 27 year old men don’t have crushes, but I’d be lying if I still didn’t find her really attractive, funny and other yada yadas. I’m just saying. Anyways I somehow I was able to jokingly ask her if she was going to be my date for my company’s holiday party. I say jokingly because I wouldn’t have the balls to regularly ask her to my company’s holiday party. That way if she said no, I could just play it off as waka waka, I was just being funny Steve. I fear rejection. Which is probably the root cause of me being single, but we can Dr. Phil that issue of mine at a later time. So anyways, I asked her during one of our alumni football events, I was a few beers in, she told me to re-ask/confirm the next day, so it wasn’t just the beer talking. Having a few beers in me was probably the only way I had enough liquid courage to talk coherently to her. When I talk to girls I am super intimidated by, I become speechless, unfunny and tend to make up words. This can be the case with her. I confirmed the next day and she was in. I knew and had no intentions of this being a romantical event, I just knew that it was going to be a blast with her as my date. Which it was. It was the funniest non date, date I’ve been probably ever been on. I’m just saying, it was a good time. Highlights include, a 40 passenger party of me and my other “young cool” co-workers, driving us around from PB to La Jolla in circles while we drink like teenagers on the way to high school prom. I was able to procure a contraband Four Lokos (original formula), as one of many drinks I had on the bus up to the party. Four Lokos actually taste terrible, but I can see why all the kids love it. All I had growing up was boones farm, and I had to walk uphill both ways just to get it. Here’s why I had such a good time:

It was just fun, you know. Like everything about it. I’m sure I started off slightly awkward because I still get extremely intimidated by her, but after our first eleventeen drinks, things got better. One of my favorite parts was the people watching, like we would both see the same thing, and without saying a word we would know exactly the same cynical, hilarious comment that should be made. I could go on and on about things I liked about the non date date, but I don’t want to be a super stalker. Basically after the party we ended up dancing our faces off at Bar West, somehow we got in with an Effiel Tower. After that we went to Mcdonalds and both ordered the same thing, a bucket of mcnuggets. We made our way back to her house, chit chatted for a bit, but then this is when I panicked. I knew from the get go there was no romantical-ness to this date, it was just two fun people doing something fun. Which I was super excited about. I panicked when I got back to her place because it was at the point when I was at her house, drunk, just had an epic night, it’s 2:37am, and I’m thinking to myself, you know what!? We just had a really really good time, why couldn’t this night be romantical?? But then I started thinking, what she must be thinking, I mean she agreed to accompany me as a friendly gesture, so if I start trying to make out with her now, she’s probably going to punch me in the mouth. But then I started thinking AGAIN, I mean, it was 2:37am, she did invite me back to her place, we did just have a great time, maybe she wants to make out with me? All these conflicting thoughts of what’s going on, gave me the panics. Because I then tried to start reading into her actions and words to see what was going on. I mean nothing changed from the beginning of the night to the end of the night, so of course this is still just a friendly get together of two fun people. Which is what my final determination of the situation to be. I do recall, as I was leaving, standing in her doorway, she gave me a long hug, and trying to muster up some words to thank her for the amazing time I had, being unable to look her in the eyes, glaring somewhere near her feet and saying “I’m impressed with everything you do”, she said thanks, and good night, and I about faced and walked away, wishing I could go back in time and say something less awkward. Really!? I’m impressed with everything that you do!? WHO SAYS THAT!? I don’t even know what means!? I’m an idiot. Apparently I thought she would be swooned by me if I complemented her on everything. Not just somethings, but everything. I don’t even know where that came from, it just word vomited out. It was one of those things where your lips move, words come out, and immediately the inner voice in your head is screaming “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”.

What I actually wish would have happened is, I wish that right at that moment as I was standing in her doorway, giving her a long hug goodbye, at that moment, I looked over her shoulder, and looked directly into the camera and said “To the cloud!”. Then I could go to “the cloud” and consult my advisers as to what to say.

I guarantee you that had I had the ability to pause time and go to the cloud, I would of come up with much better last words for ending the date. Oh well.

In summary I had a great time, I hope she did too. So now to your obvious questions, yes, she knows how to read, and yes, she reads this blog. I know me writing about this is a bit much, but that’s how it is. I write my heart on my sleeve, I word vomit what comes out, and I think she understands that. This doesn’t change a thing between us. Not a thing. I mean all I did was write about a good time I once had. And so what if I stole of clump of her hair and made it into a doll and named it after her. So what, big deal. I’m probably going to actually let her read this first, to see if she approves, and if your reading this right now, that means she does. We’ve text back in forth since, holidays hit, our relationship will remain status quo, as it should. As it should. What’s funny, is she’s actually started a blog about her dating woes as well. She says I inspired her, but that can’t be true. I’ll link it later, I don’t want to embarrass her anymore than she might already be.But if I know her, which I think I do, but I probably don’t, she finds this blog more funny, than embarrassing. Her blog is really good actually, but I find the idea that she has problems dating a little ridiculous. Wow I really should have called this blog “Word Vomit”, because I really went off on some tangents for this one.

Happy 2011!

Questions to you:
-At what point do I tell the girls I’m dating that I have a blog? Immediately? Never?

-Is this blog a deal breaker?
You should like my fan page.  And by should I mean, you have to. If you don’t, it’s like stealing.

There is nothing funny about punching babies. Unless you have one of those giant novelty gloves and the baby is wearing oversized sunglasses, and even then it’s probably on a case by case basis. Also last night, one of my friends said “I heard the FUNNIEST story about you.” I said oh really, do tell, I love funny stories. Apparently the funny story was, his friend’s 13 year old little sister found the blog and was messaging with me and I didn’t know she was 13. What the WHAT!? So I don’t think I’ve ever messaged said person, but the fact that this story existed makes me nervous face. I’m sure it was a classic game of telephone, that by the time it got back to me, it was, “did you hear Steven is messaging 13 year olds and offering to buy them Four Lokos, purple monkey dishwasher.” So if you’re 13 and reading this blog, please stop. Click here now if your 18 or younger

So let me catch you up with me, not that any of you actually care, but let’s play pretend. I think last time we spoke, I had a girlfriend? I know this may shock some of you, but we are not together anymore. I can’t really talk about it, for fear she will smash my face. I’m joking, but mostly I’m not. She literally said if I ever wrote about her in my blog, she would smash my face. In fact me writing this, is probably too much, and she’s making a clenched fist right now as I type. Which is ironic because the only reason she met me, and we went out is because she found the blog, and proceeded from there. BUT she’s a great person, with a bright future, and I hope she finds her Mr. Right (Yep, this is my please please don’t smash my face for mentioning you statement). So I’m back to being “Single Steve”, and the crowds rejoiced. I think you guys actually get joy out of my single hijinx. Good, because I do too.

Blog blog blog. Yep, I’m back in it to win it. I was going to write a recap and final conclusion blog about the PB Millionaire, but then something so comical happened to me today I had to share this with you. Also, the PB Millionaire blog is turning out to be an epically long post, which it should be. I hope to make it the concluding chapter in our love hate relationship. I plan to be done with that ass clown, he’s not worth me wasting any more key strokes on. Also was going to describe the date I had this weekend, which the title was going to be “It’s like I’m kissing a corpse”, but these are all coming down the pipeline soon. Promise.

For this blog, I HAVE to tell you about this fight I got into today. What kind of fight you ask? Well the most manly type of fight to be in, a twitter fight. Yeah, a twitter fight, you heard me. A fight, that takes place in 140 characters or less increments. For the record, I have never been in an actual real life, throwing fists, defending my manhood, fight in my life. Not that I’m a wuss, but I don’t see how me getting my face smashed in is going to help any practical problem. Unless the problem is, I’m too attractive, and the only way to solve it is to have some guy uppercut me. Also I’m too hilarious to punch. I usually use humor or self deprecation to get out of tight spots with aggressive meat heads. But on the internet, bring it on bitches. I be the baddest mother fucker with an IP address west of the Mississippi. That’s actually not true either, but I will say people are braver on the internet.

I guess I should explain twitter, since 90 percent of you probably don’t “tweet”. How to explain twitter….basically it’s the dumbest thing ever. It’s basically like standing in a quiet library, but every couple minutes you insist on yelling every little detail of your life. “I AM READING MOBY DICK!”, “I’M SAD THAT THERE ARE NO DICKS IN THE BOOK MOBY DICK”, “I’M SELF PROMOTING MY SHITTY BLOG”, “I’M CLAIMING TO BE A SOCIAL MEDIA EXPERT, BUT I ONLY HAVE 34 FOLLOWERS!”, you know things like that. So imagine you’re yelling, but only get 140 characters to yell every single time, so now you have to start getting clever with your words. Also every time you yell something, you look around the library and see who cares, usually the room of people ignore you, some put headphones, some just stare at you like you’re crazy, like they’re wondering why you are yelling and why do they care. A few, a select few, will actually be interested, they’ll probably move closer to you, actually even respond back to you. By the time they get closer to you, you realize it’s a 53 year old man who lives in his parents’ basement in Nebraska, and is only responding because his life is equally as lame. Now imagine this, but instead of 1 person yelling, it’s actually 5093457 people yelling non-sense all day, everyday. Most of them with self promotion goals. That is twitter.

I’m not going to lie, I’m completely guilty of this too. I tweet like it’s my fucking job. Non-sense, all day everyday. If you ever want to know what I’m doing, what I’m thinking at any given time, you can probably find out here:http://twitter.com/SingleSteve. I agree with all of you, twitter, is, dumb. Which is how I approach it, I tweet stupids things, drunk things, mostly I just try to be ridiculous with it. But in all seriousness, I use twitter for the same reason I do a lot of things, to meet girls. Sounds creepy? It’s the internet, what do you want from me. Not that I’m successful, but it seems like the right place to try. Where am I going with all this…okay so today I posted:

Because I wanted to get a popular decision as to how to handle this situation. Twitter is good at shit like this, where you just yell into outer space and see who pipes in. I got a lot of responses, I don’t know if you know this, but everyone on twitter is a dating expert. I think it’s the default bio when you first sign up for an account. Which is good, it works out for me. Most of the responses I got were something to the extent of radio silence would be the best option. We had been on one date, and it wasn’t crazy awesome. I did get a few saying to call her and let her know, but again, I was going to go with the popular vote and my gut instinct. That’s when I saw this tweet:

Nothing offensive about this, just her inputs. BUT, this part really stood out to me: “don’t be a dick, dude.” I mean she didn’t directly call me a dick, but it’s the phrasing of it right. So when I say something like “Don’t you dare push that button”, “Don’t eat that cookie”, the way those are written is, if I wasn’t telling you not to do something, you would totally eat that cookie. The assumption is, I’m going to push that button, unless you would have said something. If that makes sense? I tried to look this up, as to what the technical term for this type of language and phrasing is, but couldn’t find it. Any English majors out there? So basically the phrasing of the statement was with the assumption of I’m going to be dick.

Also, girls that use the word “dude” in everyday language, super attractive, especially in text messages or twitter. It says classy town USA. Anyways, not that I care if she would have said right out, YOU’RE A DICK. That’s fine. I don’t care, it’s the internet. I make fun of people all the time, and encourage people to do the same. So I tweeted:

Which, to me, is funny. Not that I think she actually thinks she called me a dick, but I thought it would be a funny tweet, so I posted it anyways. This is apparently what started the battle. Here are the tweets that followed:

I Lost a follower, but I also gained like 20 today. I think it’s because I got endorsed by these hot ladies today. Thanks!

So that’s my twitter fight. Pretty ridiculous, as it should be. It’s twitter.

I’m a not a jerk, I promise, but if you attack me on the internet and I can turn it into a funny story, I am going to fight back.
My company’s holiday party is next week. I was sweating that I wouldn’t have a date for a little bit. I called and left a message for this girl, and for some reason when the voice mail beep went off I pretended to be Zack Morris, from Saved By The Bell, calling on behalf of Steven to ask her if she would accompany me to the party. Not really sure why? I think I just panicked. Sometimes I do that, like I’ll start talking in english accents on voice mails. But she didn’t respond for a couple days, so I assumed the old Zack Morris routine ruined it, but she contacted back and said it’s on like Donkey Kong. Hurray!

Leave me comments or join my http://www.facebook.com/SingleSteve. It’s the only way I validate my existence.

It’s been a busy week, my liver, wallet and sense of responsibility all hate me.

Let’s start with Thursday.

How to get kicked out of Moondoggies, again…..

You’re probably thinking, “Now Steven, haven’t I heard this story before??” No. Shut up, you don’t know anything about me. And yes, I have regaled you with a story before of how I got kicked out of the ever classy establishment that is Moondoggies on a Thursday night, but believe it or not it happen again. And again, it wasn’t my fault, well it  mostly wasn’t my fault.

Here’s the story about the first time

This Thursday was going to be a big night, epic even. It was the “gangs” first Thursday in a few months, which is a ridiculously long time for us. And you knew it was going to be a big Thursday because there was even a work email sent out notifying the cool kids that shenanigans were going down.

So anyways, I’m 1 to 2 to 7 beers deep at this point, and anyone that knows me, knows I have the bladder of a 12 year of girl. I pee approximately every 17 minutes when I’m drinking. I should probably see a doctor, but I figure it’s actually some type of super power right? I mean my body has the ability to process beer into pee almost instantly. But I digress…..So I’m line to pee, again, probably about 4 people deep outside the entrance to the actual bathroom. My friend Tyler gloriously walks out from the bathroom, says hello, and joking says “Don’t pee on the walls like last time, try not to get kicked out”, we laughed, he walked on. I’m now 3 people deep, doing the pee dance when a guy in the typical “PB Douche” uniform (dark button up shirt, stone washed jeans and backwards black hat) starts making his way to the entrance of the bathroom, disregarding the 6 people deep line. In my head I’m thinking “Alllll hell to no!”, and of course it’s just in my head, because I’m super passive aggressive. As dude walks by he trips on my foot, and stumbles a bit…….JACKPOT…..my opportunity to slide in a sarcastic snide comment, since that’s the only thing I’ve got going for me in this situation as he’s about to cut the line to pee. I sarcastically and smugly tell this douche attempting to cut the line, “Wow, drunk much?”. He cuts back, making a B line straight towards me and says “Excuse me, what?” in a very inquisitive voice. At this point I’ve got some liquid courage in me so I responded like I was talking to my 95 year old great grand mother. You know the style, where you talk slower, and louder and nod your head to ever word. Yeah. I did that. I came back with “WOW…….DRUNK…..MUCH?” Ha. Take that line cutter, I’d like to see him come back with something half as witty. What was his response you ask? His response, kind of caught me off guard, he responded with “That’s it you’re out of here!”. It caught me off guard because I didn’t know random line cutters could kick people out of the bar. Was he making like a citizens arrest, but of people in bars? After further investigation and better lighting I noticed he was wearing a Moondoggies “I work here” type if shirt. Fml. I’m no rookie to Moondoggies, that’s why I know the bar issued uniform is a tan short sleeve button up shirt, but this guy must have worn his other shirt today. Of course. Next thing I know I been shoved through the dance floor, flash light shinning on my head, all the mean while I’m trying to finish my Dos XX before I reach the door. I was tossed. Ejected. Laughing the entire time. All before 11:30pm. Only me. Only Moondoggies.

Worst part is, I still had to pee, bad. I got 24 hour Mexican and called it night.

“I thought you would be white”

Two nights later I was out in PB once again, hanging out with some friends at Moondoggies. Actually there was a streak of 6 days last week where I had been to Moondoggies for drinks for 4 of them. No. You have a problem. Anyways I was at Moondoggies,  when I got a tweet from @mikeythejerk

Mike’s a cool kid from my MBA classes, seems to be out and about in PB more than me. Respect. So those of you not familiar with twitter, the tweet above also included a picture in the message, so I opened up the picture. …

I continued with my night, regretting I didn’t go meet up with Mike and said girl at Shore Club. Especially since I love me some Shore Club.  I was walking to my car down Garnett and I hear a guy yell “Single Steve!” I turn and see Mike’s friend Nick, I’ve met before at a bar crawl. He’s stumbling down the street with this taller, attractive girl, he introduces me to her as “this is Single Steve from the blogs”, she lets out a small excited scream and gives me a big old bear hug. That’s like 3^rd base in my book. She introduces herself as Sarah, she’s nice and bit tipsy.

Ah ha! This was the girl from the photo earlier!  She does exists! And…. she’s a lot taller than I expected. Well, taller than me. I’m only 5’9, so that’s not really hard to do.

Sarah and Nick are embracing, and drunkenly swaying, Nick and I start talking about blah blah blah how was night, blah blah, when Sarah sways over in my direction, still hanging onto Nick for balance and says “You don’t look like I expected you to”. Hahaha!

What!? I asked her what she expected me to look like, she said “I thought you would be white”. Again, what!? Ha! I guess my blogs make me sound white? I feel like I drop the “I’m Mexican, ole!” joke, every now and then. At least enough so people who don’t know me in “real life”, would gather I’m Mexican? Or maybe she assumes Mexican’s aren’t as funny as white people. Which might be true. Which would make sense, because anyone that knows me, knows I’m the worst Mexican ever.

Then she starts talking about “I’m attracted to Single Steve, but not Real Life Steve”, haha! That’s literally, literally a direct quote. I wasn’t upset by her drunk honest comment, I was actually pretty flattered. I mean she’s attracted to this “Single Steve” character she made up in her head, who was white, probably taller and really funny. I actually feel bad I ruined her perception of this Single Steve she made me out to be in her head, by meeting Real Life Steve. Oh well.

And this point I made my exit, wondering how many other readers think I’m white? Or have some other perception of me of what I might look like, or how I would act in real life?

Speaking of twitter, you need to follow me. Not just because I’m an egotistical asshole and the more followers I have the easier I go to sleep. It’s because if you want to know the real Single Steve, I highly recommend it. I tweet many many times a day and mostly without a filter. Where my facebook status are extremely filtered and occur one ever two days or so.

I know twitter sounds like the dumbest thing in the whole wide world, but once I got on it, I’m more hooked than facebook. Yeah. I said it, more than facebook.

Follow me at:
http://twitter.com/SingleSteve

I went on an okcupid.com last week,  it was no bueno. I’ll write about that next.

Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns?

Comment. It makes me happy.

Invite your friends to blog. I bet they’ll like it.

Halloween has come and gone, and people have been begging me to update my happenings since. Well that’s not true, no one actually asked me anything, but I’m going to fucking tell you anyways. Sorry, I know, no need to swear.

My Halloween actually wasn’t all to wild and crazy kids. I was in Washington DC for work, at an engineering conference where I was the “grown up”. I know right. Me, the “grown up”. I gave some workshops, did some company recruiting, did some binge drinking, a good time had by all.

Actually here’s a secret between you and me, I had to a give a workshop to about 40 student engineers one day of the conference at 3:45 in the afternoon, apparently I went out a little too big the night before because I still hung over and felt like death. No worries, I totally rocked the presentation, but ran to bathroom and puked 2.5 seconds after it ended. Yeah, I’m an adult. Public speaking is my specialty, probably my best skill, regardless of what state my liver is in. And that’s a fact.

My Halloween was interesting…moral of the story is I walked back to my hotel 2 miles in the rain at 5:00am in a short sleeve shirt, in the city where I had no idea where I was going. I was navigating on the rising sun back to my hotel.  Unfortunately the story isn’t as awesome as your hoping. I wasn’t doing the walk of shame because I just hooked up with major babes, nope. I was walking back to my hotel at 5:00am because that was a better option than waking up on a strangers couch dressed as Space Ghost. I walked into my hotel where students were gathering in the lobby to catch their shuttles for the airport. They were probably wondering why the guy that interviewed them yesterday was stumbling in at 6am, soaking wet in a short sleeve shirt. Me too. Me too….

I got back to San Diego and immediately saw a flood of Facebook albums bursting with Halloween photos. And me being the creep I am, of course went through all of them. I pulled out a few to make fun of, sorry if you know these people. Remember I’m “Single Steve”, just a internet personality, who’s kind of dick.

For your pleasure:

So as all of us red blooded Americans know, a couple weeks ago was the fantastic holiday of 4^th of July. Historically we know this as the day we teamed up with Will Smith to beat the aliens.
Actually, I’m sorry, I was trying to impress you. I don’t know what it means. I’ll be honest, I don’t think anyone knows what it means anymore. Scholars maintain that the translation was lost hundreds of years ago. . . .

I had a fantastic 4^th of July. A friend was hosting a celebrations of celebrations down in Mission Bay, sporting 1500 jello shots, tons o beer and the promise of good times to be had by all. At this annual event someone is crowned “King Of The Bay”, this prestigious award goes to most ridiculous drunk fool in attendance. Candidates are identified early and someone volunteers to be your “sponsors”. Sponsors are responsible for making sure their candidate for King of the Bay gets as drunk as possible and acts a fool. I was obviously identified early because of my great drinking potential and taken in by last years King of the Bay. Tough shoes to fill, this guy was passed out and puking on himself 11:00am. He tried his hardest, passing me jello shot after jello shot, beer after beer, but unfortunately(thankfully?) I didn’t win this years title as King Of The Bay. That went to co-worker and friend Ryan, who was crowned for his bear like ability to drunk tackle people. I think it’s for the better. There’s always next year?

Although. . . . I did find out my camera is not water proof. Yeah. It’s true. I discovered this shortly after going swimming in the ocean. ISH!
This is when I decided I needed:

But seriously. They have insurance for fire, water damage and earth quakes, but not for drunk “freak” accidents? I’m willing to bet more stuff has been broken, lost, dropped into drinks, or accidentally taken into ocean then fire and water damage combined.

I will gladly pay a monthly premium to said insurance company if they’re willing to cover me for my drunk shenanigans. Although I’m sure my monthly rate would be pretty high since I’m probably considered an extremely high risk liability. Probably equivalent to the guy that’s had 4 DUI’s and 8 speeding tickets trying to get driving insurance. The monthly rate would probably be based on how often you go out a week, drinks had a night and the number of times you’ve woken up with carne asada in your pockets.
The insurance claim would look like this:

See. Simple as pie. Bada Bing, Bada Boom. I submit the paper work, drinking insurance company gives me a new phone, or camera and it’s a win/win situation. Right?

ALSO, I want to be compensated for NON-monetary things.

Such as drunk text messages and drunk dials I made the night before. You heard me:
I want to be paid restitution for drunk dials and drunk text made.

I wake up in the morning, typically on my friends couch with my shoes on, and the first thing going through my head is “who did I text/dial” and “what did I say”. How sweet would it be, to actually get compensation based on my level of embarrassment that I feel from my drunken text/dials from the night before? Not only would it be based on the number of different drunk text/dials sent, but content as well.

For example:

So there it is. This is what I want. All I want is to be covered for my stupid actions when I drink. Not too much to ask?

2^nd Group: “Because you’re not fucking tall enough already”

Maybe this is just a personal gripe, because I have inferior Mexican genes and stopped growing at the awesome height of 5’8. I know I’m not tall, but I know I HAVE TO be taller than some population of females in San Diego. Even if it’s a minority group, I know the group exists because I’ve seen girls, with my own short eyes, who are shorter than me during the day. At the bars at night, it’s a different story. I feel like when I go to the bars, girls that normally are 5’3 will some how magically appear to be 6’5 at bars. F THAT! They use dirty girl magic as seen in the diagram below.

3^rd Group: “Team Asia!!”
Mostly this just applies to my southern California readers and in which case you already know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. This is in reference to the extremely high Asian population and their presence in intimidating numbers. I’m not saying I don’t like Asian girls, I’m just saying where you see one, you’ll see 13. They travel in hordes. I would be less intimidated to approach this horde of 13 Asian girls if they diversified their friends. Like if I saw they had a Mexican friend, I would think “hey they like Mexicans, they even have a Mexican friend to prove it”. But instead I’m thinking “Man, Asian’s only like Asians. See all there friends are Asians.” I feel like I fucking need to know karate to infiltrate this group of girls. Hi Ya!
(I promise I’m not racist. . . . I mean I used to eat Panda Express like 3 times a day in college,that has to count for something)

4th Group: “The Bad Dancer!?”
I love to dance, but hate bad dancers. Seen below is only a few examples:

There it is. Let me know your thoughts. Anyone know how I spread my blog to more people. I want to do more, but not if it’s just for my own enjoyment. Hollar!