I mean I hope not, but who knows. I think Justin Bieber is ridiculously talented, and I do have this kid like fascination with dinosaurs. Did you know that having an obsession with dinosaurs is an indicator for autism? I didn’t, but my last girlfriend worked with people with autism and would constantly call me autistic. That’s why I dumped her. Just kidding.

So last week was Valentines day, and I hope you all had a great day. I don’t think I’ve had a girlfriend on Valentine’s day in really long, so I can’t really recall what I “normally” do, I guess what I normally do now is the same thing I do every day. Try, to take over the world. I actually had a pretty good day, thank you for asking. I did, as promise send flowers to 2 random readers of the blog. It made me feel really really, really good.  Just thinking about someone somewhere answering the door and being surprised with flowers, and the feeling of excitement and happiness they must feel makes me smile.  It’s almost the same feeling I get when I’m watching American Idol, and they do the back story on the guy who was raised by wolfs, and his lifelong dream is to be a singer and he sings amazing and makes it through to Hollywood.  You know, “that” moment, where I always seem to get a little teary eyed. So I picked  the winners almost at random. One of the ladies wrote me an email saying she was having a rough day/week/month, so I thought flowers would cheer her up. Another offered to make me baked goods, and it’s true, I do love to eat, especially delicious baked treats. But not sure if I’ll take her up on that offer.  I mean I’m not going to send my address to a complete stranger, that’s just kind of creepy. Oh yeah, thanks to everyone that sent me their address. I find you. Just kidding. Mostly. Don’t worry, the creepiest thing I do is I get is facebook stalking you after you join my facebook fan page. It happens, and I’m sorry I’m not sorry.

So one of the recipients @KatyHaltertop wrote about it in her last blog:
Excerpt from: http://lookwhatkatydid.wordpress.com/2011/02/14/my-funny-valentines/

But I’d venture to say my favorite Valentine came through the powers of the interwebs.  You see there’s a hilarious and kind gentleman that goes by Single Steve.  He lives in San Diego and writes about his misadventures in the world of online dating at his site: www.singlesteve.com Turns out, Single Steve didn’t have a valentine this year and thanks to an FTD deal on Groupon, he decided to use his powers for good and spread a little cheer.  He held a bit of a contest on his blog to decide who to send the lucky delivery to.  I tweeted at him my entry: “You send me flowers, I send you baked goods – deal? #popcornwithcaramelchocolateandbacon #saltedfudgebrownies”.  He also requested addresses in order to fulfill the deliveries. I sent him my work one just for the sheer fact that I could say “Oh these? They’re from my secret admirer/internet stalker” to my coworkers.

Roses are red, carnations are too, flowers are awesome, no matter from who.

Well sure enough, Steve delivered.  And awkward laughs ensued at my desk when they arrived and were unsigned.  A simple card read: “To my valentine – Happy Valentine’s Day! You’re absolutely the greatest! Have a great day!”  I tweeted him a thank you and am still waiting for him to send me his address because I do in fact plan to follow through on my promise of baked goods.  Seriously Steve – take me up on this one.  But these flowers truly made my day.  I’ve had a lovely little grin on all day as people walked by my desk and go “Oh you got flowers!!”  It’s  a fun feeling.  So thank you Steve, for making my day extra special.  Like I said earlier in my tweet, if you lived closer, I’d totally go on a date with you (or at least makeout or something).

(Kidding.)

(Not really.)

This brings me joy.  Knowing I made someone’s day better. It’s pretty much the reason I “write” this blog too. I mean if you read this blog and at some point you laughed, smiled, or threw up on your keyboard, that’s why I write. I mean I’m not getting paid, I’m not famous, but when I get comments that I totally made them “LOL”, it’s worth it. Also if you wanted to make out, as a form of repayment, I wouldn’t stop you. I really miss kissing, and I’m pretty good at, so, I’m just saying, think about it. Anyways, sending those flowers, knowing they made them smile, made me smile. If that’s not too lame to say that, and you’re not puking on your keyboard, wondering when this blog is going to get funny.  FUCK YOU. I told you this blog isn’t going to be funny in the first sentence. It’s not my fault you can’t remember what you read 5 minutes ago. Anyways. Focus.
I spent Valentines day night coaching Special Olympics basketball. This is my 4^th season as head coach, and it is truly the high point of my week, just being around these athletes. They do more for me, and I could ever teach them in a layup or free throw drill. I could probably and should probably have a whole other blog with inspirational moments and stories that deserve to be shared with the world. Unfortunately, this is not the place for those moments. I leave practice humbled, inspired and motivated. There is nothing else I would of rather of been doing on Valentine’s day night, then being there with those athletes. Oh yeah, and then I went out in PB, got shit showed and woke up on a friends couch. Damn you Tavern and your 5 dollars for a beer and shot. Happy Valentine’s day to me.

Speaking of Tavern, it’s come to my attention more recently that I have absolutely no game. Like none. And I think I’m okay with this. I mean I have no problem speaking, talking, and capturing attention. Especially in bars after a few drinks. In fact these are probably some of best qualities, but I don’t feel comfortable speaking to strangers? And that’s not even true either. I don’t like talking to strangers with the intent to bang, if that makes sense.
Here’s a fun fact, which I’m sure will “shock” you. In the 2 million times I’ve been out in San Diego, I have never met a girl. Well, met in the sense of meeting a girl is getting her number, or having romantical moments at the bar, or taking her home. Never have I ever. And I’m actually not upset about this. When I go out, I never go out with the attempts of “meeting girls”. Obviously I’m not opposed to meeting a girl and making out her with, I mean I’m not a eunuch. It’s just that I have no desire to approach a group girls that doesn’t want to be hit on for the 12^th time that night, and attempt to spit some game at them. When I go out the bars it’s always to hang out with the people I know who are going to the bars. Thankfully my group of friends, aren’t the “lets go be scum bags and go troll on every group of girls”. I would do terrible in that environment. In fact, I know I would because it’s happened, and I was terrible. I don’t know what it is, that causes me to go from outgoing, social, hilarious conversationalist to Mumbler McUnfunnystien. I think it’s because, and when I say this, try not to judge me, or vomit in your mouth just a little bit, I think it’s because I respect women too much? I think I heard that in the 40 year old virgin, and I kind of agreed? I hate the idea of walking up to a group of girls and immediately their defenses go up.  I don’t like the idea of starting an interaction with defenses up. And lets be honest ladies, 90 percent of the time a guy approaches you at a bar, your initial reaction is always defensive.  I don’t think it’s a confidence thing, I think it’s a I don’t want to meet a girl in a bar thing. Not saying all girls in bars are terrible terrible people, in fact I’m sure most of them are fairly awesome, but I have rarely heard a story about a guy meeting a girl at a bar and it actually working out to be something worth wild. Prove me wrong PB, prove me wrong. I love meeting new people, but prefer to do it, if she’s a friend of a friend. If she’s a friend of a friend, I’m going to charm her pants right off, and that’s a fact.  Anyways I started this rant of me not having “game” and me not caring slash thinking it’s an issue because I’ve been kicked off eharmony, and don’t think I’m going to continue to do any more online dating sites. Yep, you heard it. I’m giving up on online dating. The ROI on my time spent on those sites is 0. I’ve had little to no success on any of the sites I’ve been on. And I’ve been on all of them, literally all of them, to date I’ve been on Zoosk.com, eharmony.com, plentyoffish.com, okcupid.com, match.com, and  chemistry.com.  So since I’m no longer doing online dating, nor do I think I will meet anyone in a bar, where does that leave me with options to meeting the future Ms. Single Steve? Real Life? Yes.  I like this idea. A lot.

But I will say, my approach to dating girls is all wrong, but I’m not going to change it. Not at all. What’s my approach you ask? My approach is I want to date my friend. I didn’t think this is where THIS blog was going, but I guess this is where we’ve ended up. So, what do I mean I want to date my friend. Exactly that clown.  I want to build a relationship out of a friendship. Not make a relationship, then see if a friendship exist. Why is friendship so important you ask? STOP ASKING SO MANY FUCKING QUESTIONS. Well I’m glad you asked. IN MY OPINION I feel like my best relationships are basically best friendships, with sex. What does that mean. That means I want to develop a relationship out of friendship, because the best marriages I’ve seen, the couples that are still very much in love after 20 years, are basically best friends, as cliché as that sounds. Sorry if I just made you puke in your mouth. That’s why I hate online dating so much, because you focus on building a “relationship” with a complete stranger, not necessary a friendship.  But it’s true, think about the people you know that are still happily married, the other person they married is basically they’re super awesome BFF, who they bang, hopefully. Which is what I want. So that’s my approach, I don’t know if it happens consciously or subconsciously, but every girl I meet, I friend the shit out of them, like it’s my job, I friend zone myself, and then at the point I decided, yep, I would totally like to date you, but at that point she decides were “too BFF”. Which to me is the biggest scam in the history of female/male friendships. 

We can’t date because we “too good of friends”. What the FUCK does that mean?? It means you want to continue to date guys that aren’t as awesome as me, just because we’re already friends? I’m sorry I didn’t try to bang you in the first week of knowing you. Apparently if you wait past the first week to try and bang, you’re too good of friends at that point. I mean I really hope “were too good of friends” is girl code for I don’t find you physically attractive, but I think your personality is the best! Which I’m okay with. I’d rather hear that, then “but then we couldn’t be friends if we dated”.  Granted I understand that when/if we broke up there would be some messiness, but to my defense I am friends with every girl I have ever broken up with, except one.  She’s one of those I think I blew it type of relationships, I just wasn’t ready for it, and now she’s got a new boyfriend, which makes me a little sad? I’m happy for her, and blah blah blah. Anyways.  So that’s my predicament. I want to see if I’d like to date you before I actually date you. As opposed to me reading 200 words about you and 4 pictures of you on match.com, and figuring out if we should date.

I realize there is 102838 things wrong with my approach. I do. Because I’ve never actually had this work, with any success. I’m just saying it would be my ideal way. I’ve actually had my method blow up in my face big time. Remember that time I was “Too Awesome to date”. Here’s the excerpt from my that blog…
********************************
You’re too awesome to date….
Have you ever been told this? I have. It’s not as awesome as you would think.
Back story:
Meet this person through a friend of a friends. She’s fantastic. Pretty, witty, smart, sarcastic, yada yada. We’ve hung out a few times, nothing date like, but we always have had a blast together. Like random epic adventures on a Tuesday type of thing. She’s the type of person where you don’t know if you want to kiss her or stab her, it’s great. Not that we have kissed, or gotten anywhere close, I’m just saying. That’s the kind of interaction I want with my future “mate”, where her wit, humor and sarcasm are keeping me on my feet. It’s keeps life interesting. Ya know. ANYWAYS. So at some point I proposed the question…. “so am I going down the BFF path or the someone you might potential date at some point in your life path?” Literally. Verbatim. The response was BFF path (SWING AND A MISS!!) Which I’m completely fine with and almost expected. I think her and I have a great interaction, and will be these fantastic friends.

It came up through later conversations that she thought “I was too awesome to date”. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!? WHAT does that even mean? Too awesome? Is there such a thing? I’ve never heard of someone being “too awesome”. Can someone decode this for me? What does she actually mean?
I mean sure, there’s a chance I actually am awesome. But can one be “too awesome to date”. Maybe I should tone down my awesomeness?

*****************************************
So yeah, for that young lady and I went down the I’m going to friend the shit out of you path, in hopes she would realize that everything she was looking for was right below her nose this whole time? You know like in those stupid romantic comedies that are ruining my life. The ones were the friends don’t realize they’re perfect together until one of them in walking down the isle, then she calls off the wedding and then runs to the guy in slow motion.

That never happens. Me and said girl were like uber BFF, then the day she got a boyfriend, she literally stopped talking to me. It, was, awesome. Also I stopped talking to her because I was a little heart broken.  I’ve actually had this a couple times, not where I fall in love with my girl that is a friend, but where I have a girl that is a friend that basically only hangs out with me as a stand in boyfriend, and the day she gets a real boyfriend, I get benched. I NEED to stop doing this. Sometimes I feel like I’m being taken advantage of, because of my awesomeness? But anyways, girl defriended me on facebook? Which is pretty aggressive. But I did find comfort in that I ran into her old roommate about a month ago and she said the girl and her weren’t friends any more either, she basically dropped off the earth to everyone once she got the new boyfriend, who moved here from Philly for her I think? Which I feel bad for because this girl and her old roommate were like best friends from forever, and then one boy comes along and ruins the friendship.

I don’t even know what this blog is about any more, but in summary if you’re my friend and you’re a female, don’t freak out and think I’m only your friend because I’m trying to date you. Get over yourself. I’m just saying, in a perfect world, I would like to be your friend first, know everything about you and what makes you awesome, then date you.  It does kind of tie into my theory of If Were Friends, and You’re a Girl, I Probably Want To Bang You.  Wow this was long pointless blog. Congratulations on reading this far. Next one will be focused, and have the word bang at least 37 more times, that’s how you know it’s good.

Join the facebook fanpage, I’m like 3 people away from 1000. It would bring me joy.
http://www.facebook.com/SingleSteve

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.

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:

Actually before I get into my post, I want to take a ten second break and send a friendly reminder to all my readers of this blog:

The Most Important Single Steve blog You Will EVER Read. EVER.
Basically the cliff note’s of the blog is Real Life Steve is not an assshole, well, not all the time, and Single Steve is a complete asshole. So when you read this, don’t think of the funny, attractive, smart, strong, modest, sensitive, nice, modest guy you know in real life, instead, read this as just some guy on the interweb with a web page. I know we’ve had this talk before, but people seem to have brain damage and can’t separate the two. Basically I want to be as ha-larlious as possible, and that involves me being a super jerk, but I still hold back because I fear people will associate these words with real life me. I not saying everyone that reads this blog has brain damage, just like 85 percent of you guys. You know who you are. I’m surprised most of the people that come to my webpage even know how to read, but that’s why I include so many pictures, so you can still pretend you know what’s going on, but I digress…

Penis penis penis, vagina vagina vagina. See, just some random words, some dude on the internet says. I’m about to use the word slut about 1000 times, just a heads up.

Where was I? Oh yeah, sluts. Halloween sluts. Halloween is a great time of year, it’s interesting to think about the “fun” levels of Halloween as you progress through your life.

When you’re little, probably 5-10 years old, its fun and exciting to dress up like your favorite super hero or princess and go trick or treating house to house, so innocent and naive. Then in your high school years it becomes “uncool” to dress up anymore, everyone knew “that guy” that came dressed up in a mid evil costume on Halloween and got beat up.

Then fun levels really pick up at 18, when you’re away from parents at college, every costume now gets prefixed with the word “sexy”, which is actually just code for “I can be a hoe and you can’t say anything”.

When I say slut, in no way shape or form is that an insult or meant to be a degrading comment. In this context. Halloween makes it okay. It’s actually kind of a complement I would say. Somehow, magically I can walk up to a girl (probably one that I know since I don’t talk to ones I don’t know) and tell her, that her costume looks totally slutty and I won’t get uppercutted.

I’m not saying that I disagree, am offended or discourage the way ladies dress on Halloween. NOT AT ALL.  I actually encourage this type of wardrobe.  I’m just stating the way things are.

Now you’re probably saying “But Steven I don’t dress like a slut on Halloween, is there something wrong with me??” No, no there isn’t. Well maybe, I don’t know, I’m not a doctor. But it’s okay to not dress like a complete whore on Halloween. Really it is. You can dress “normal”, maybe a funny or clever costume, good for you. I’m not mad at it. BUT what I ask is don’t be that girl that dresses in the costume that scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to walk into the bar and be scared because I think there’s actually a zombie at the bar. That’s really cool you spent 2 hours making it look like your bleeding from the face! Especially considering were at a classy place like  Cabo Catina where I just peed into a trough. I just want to drink, and be merry. At no time on my Halloween night do I want to wipe puss from your face off my costume because you walked by me. That’s a fact.

Halloween isn’t about being scared, it’s about getting drunk and trying not to embarrass yourself while dressed like an idiot. Anyone knows that. It’s science.

This blog was actually going to be about what kind of guy you would attract based on what slutty costume you dressed as, but I kind of got derailed, but I’ll throw a few in here at the end.

Cutting it short, passed my bed time. Maybe I’ll finish making fun of everyone’s costumes later this week.

What are you going to be for Halloween? Let me know so I can make fun of it.

I’ll be in Washington DC next week for work stuffs, anyone in DC that wants to celebrate like it’s our job on Halloween, let me know! Don’t know what I’m going to be yet, something I can pack in my suit case. Maybe a ghost? A sexy ghost? Well see.

One more thing, since you’re not paying or sleeping with me to continue to write these blogs the least you can do is invite you friends to join the facebook page. It’s the least you could.

Also starting a new thing, where I reverse stalk some random I don’t know who’s following the page. I mean they’re basically stalking me, they least I could do is photoshop them in some awkward situation. That’s why I need more random’s, as to not offend my “real friends”

Happy Halloween

Not to be dramatic, but that’s getting pretty old. I can remember the days when I was just a day or two over 8000. Those were the days… I was a senior in college (year one of two), just getting exposed to the classy bar scene of Tucson (Buffet and the Nugget), living in a frat house (SICK braah), making out with B minus chicks, yep, not a worry in the whole wide world. I definitely wasn’t worried about getting married and popping out some kids. I’m still not worried. I’ve just been noticing it’s about that time.

And by it’s about that time, I mean Facebook is secretly trying to run my life.

That sneaky SOB. I was making some edits to my profile this morning, when I saw something that caught my eye and made me do a double take of screen. Usually my eyes glaze over the ad’s on the side of the right hand screen, useless garbage and nonsense. No I don’t want to fucking join Mafia Wars, no I don’t want to go to an online beauty college, blah blah blah…..but what did I see this time when I loaded my profile page you ask that caught my attention? It was the triple threat of single ads. First of all, fuck you Facebook, you don’t know anything about me. Secondly, really!? Do I need 3 ads to tell me how not to talk to girls?

Maybe I should date Christian girls, apparently they’re busty.

I’m used to one or two ads about single girls, but 3 was a bit much. I thought it was fluke, so I hit the refresh button, thought there was no way I could hit the singles ad jackpot twice in a row, but BAM, 3 more hot generic spambot ladies for me to click on. It was like gambling, what are the chances that out all the ads on all of facebook, I would get 3 “desperately single!? Click Here!!” ads.

I tried it again, and got an ad for an MBA program, this is when I and realized Facebook does targeted advertising based on who you “are”. How could I of missed it. Facebook is smart, it’s learning. You know what other computer based application was smart and learned?? That’s right. Sky Net. Fuck it’s so obvious to me know, facebook is learning, adapting, telling you who you should be, what ads to pick, then BOOM, it builds an army of evil robots to destroy to earth.

Or not, but still, who is Facebook is to tell me who I am? Who does facebook think you are?

What 3 ads show up when you go to your profile page?
Are you desperately single? Are you destine to annoy all of your friends and join Mafia Wars? Should you go back to school in Idaho? No seriously, comment on the blog and let me know who facebook thinks you should be.

So besides the ads facebook screaming at me to get a spambot girlfriend, more recently in the past year I’ve seen more and more feeds like “I’m engaged!”, “I’m pregnant again!”, “Wedding was great!”, “My baby daddy just got out of jail!”, etc. Basically I’m saying my facebook feed is much different than when I was 21. Either I need to make more 21 year old friends, or just come to terms that I’ll now get facebook feeds in regards to my friend’s children turning 15.

Speaking of 21 year olds! I’ve got a funny story. Not haha funny, but more like ouch haha funny. Or it might not be funny at all, but fuck you, you’re not paying me to write this so it’s your fault.

So anyways, a few weekends ago, my buddy from college got married in Tucson, so I made the trip down to Arizona for the wedding. I RSVP-ed a “plus one” weeks before I knew who I was taking. So of course, 3 days before the wedding I’m still dateless because I’m awesome at find dates. I had recently broken up with the girlfriend so I had no “options” of people who I would ask to make the road trip down with me to Tucson, so I did a hail mary and sent a text to a “friend” in Tucson and asked if she would like to accompany me to the wedding. She was a mutual friend of the guy getting married, and her older brother was going to the wedding so I thought it wouldn’t be completely out of the blue if she attended with me. I don’t know if you noticed I used the word “friend” in quotes a few sentences ago to describe who she is, and it’s probably not what you’re thinking. So she’s actually the little sister of a friend of mine from college, and sure I “know” her and we’re facebook friends, but prior to the wedding I had probably spoken only about 20 sentences in face to face conversation, and of those 20 sentences, 16 were probably on a professional level. So why only 4 sentences spoken to her in a social setting you ask? Well one, she’s extremely attractive, I mean really really pretty, and I’m kind of intimidated by her? Which is weird because I can confidently give a presentation in front of 100s of people, but talking to one very beautiful girl, and I can’t seem to form a coherent sentence. Two, we didn’t really have the same social circles, well we might of, but I wouldn’t know because I graduated before she started college…..oh yeah, she’s only 21.

Now I’m 26, and I don’t think that’s a huge age difference, and it’s not like I was asking her to this wedding to be romantical, which even isn’t a word, I just thought we would have a good time. Which we did. Some of my friends here in SD made a big deal out of the fact I asked someone “so much younger”.  But I think my friends are idiots. There I said it.

Anyways, I guess I was curious as to her take on the situation, but I wasn’t going to ask her “So do you think I’m too old to talking you?”

The funny moment occurred when we were at the reception just talking about weddings and marriage and the whole idea of it, she started a sentence with “I know you’re like way older than me…..”, at this point I stopped her, kind of did a comical pseudo freak out, she apologized and said that’s not what she meant. I know that’s not what she meant to say, but it’s funnier to be fake outraged at her comment. Like I said there was no intention of a romantic interest with me asking her to go with me to the wedding, but at this point I think I went from date to dad in 5.4 seconds. Ftw!

I know it’s not what she meant at all, but still funny hear. I had to coerce her into finishing her sentence, because I was genuinely curious as to where she was going with that. Basically the sentence ends with “but if I turn your age and I’m not married, I’m going to end up marrying the first douche bag that comes along”. Awesome. Apparently 26 is the freak out age for girls to start marrying the first jerk that comes along. Anyone know any 26 years old females?

So basically she was telling me I have 5 years to become douche bag, so you’re saying there’s a chance! Just kidding….Wedding was actually a lot of fun, good to see old faces (26 year olds), had a great time with ms. 21.
Questions, Comments,Concerns!?

Do the 3 ad challenge, who does facebook think you are?

Invite your friends to join the facebook page!

From January 29th, 2008

Greeeeeeeeeeetings! Hi there. Welcome. Bienvenidos.

Last week marked the first week of me officially being an SDSU grad student, it’s all so very exciting. The thrill of sitting in class, the joys of homework and the opportunity to not talk to/make eye contact with a whole different school of girls. Yep, it’s going to be a great year.

So as I stood in line for the delicious Panda Express during a break between the first day of classes, I was busy doing what any socially awkward engineer would be doing. I was staring at the ground, like it was my job. Like I was the official ground inspector, and it was my duty not to look up, no matter if I was standing in line between two attractive girls. But thankfully this was this case, other wise I could have completely missed a ridiculous site. What did I see?

I saw an attractive twelve-teen your old looking girl, in line in front of me, who was wearing pink boots with white fur and a short jean mini skirt. Jackpot.
Really?? On the first day of classes? That’s the fashion statement you’re going with? Really?

This blog is going to be about just a few of the ridiculous fashions I noticed on the SDSU campus on the first day of class.

I mean I’m not a fashion guru by any means, in fact it looks like I get dressed in the dark by a pack of monkeys, BUT I do know what’s ridiculous. And you, my attractive friend, are ridiculous. And all I could hear in my head the entire time I was thinking about how ridiculous she looked, was the “… with the boots with fuuuuur, the whole club was looking huuur…” song, and since that’s the only part of the song I know, it played over and over and over.

Got me thinking, why was the club looking at “hur” as this girl with the boots with the “fur” walked in. . . . What is it about this fashion statement that gets the attention of the club? Here’s my explanation.

Actually boots with the fur aren’t that bad, in some cases. It’s just ridiculous to see them coupled with short skirts. There must be an easier way to show guys you have VD. Okay a little harsh, sure. I’m just saying, on the first day of classes THIS was the message she wanted to send to her classmates. This was her first impression to me, and I was just the guy behind her at Panda Express. I wonder what she wears on the second day of class? Lingerie? Hope none of my readers where boots with the fur. . . .

I grab my ever healthy Panda Express cuisine and head to my table. I begin eating my friend grabs my attention and points me in the direction of a girl who is standing about 10 feet in front of us with her back to us. What was SHE wearing you’re asking?? I’m not really sure how to describe it actually, but for purposes of this blog I guess I’ll call them “It looks like her ass is eating her pants” pants. Yeah, THOSE pants. I vomited just a little in my mouth, just a little.

(I know I show non-yoga pant in the picture, but the rule applys to many pant types, I just happen to see yoga pants)
Why why why would you wear those? I can’t image she can’t feel that ¾ of her pants are now nestled securely inside her butt crack. I mean for the most part these yoga pants can be an attractive thing. I’m not even saying that only skinny girls should wear these pants, all I’m saying is PLEASE buy the right size. Nobody wants to see your pants as they get sucked into the most secret of crevices of your butt. That’s not too much to ask right?

Well there’s my two cents on a few fashion observations I picked up last week on campus. Tomorrows another day of school so who knows what I’ll see then!

YOU tell me some fashions you find to be ridiculous

Sitting down and conjuring up funny is more difficult than it sounds. So in taking the easy route out, I think I’ll do another CL’s blasting. It’s the easy way out of writing a real blog, sure, but I promise it will be my last one about CL losers, for a while. Actually it got me kind of thinking, maybe this will be the year I tackle the hard hitting topics in my blogs, like politics, legislation reform, and world peace? Maybe it will be, maybe it will. . .HAHA!

Actually by politics, legislation reform, and world peace I actually mean I’m going to duct tape a 40 to my hand and smash the key board and see what comes out.

Here it is. More Craig’s List Tool boxes.

There it is, the easy way out of a blog, Craig’s list losers. I promise future blogs will be more thought out and planned. Actually I kind of wrote down some new ideas for this year blog, things to be included:

“Relationship advice – ask the guy that can’t get any himself, on how to get some”

“Video blog?”

“Craig list all stars – time to pick on the girls”

“Steven gets drunk and does something ridiculous

Etc etc.

Leave me some comments?

If you liked this blog you might like:

• Craig’s List All Stars 1.0

• Craig’s List All Stars 2.0

Hello Hello! Welcome to 2008, and welcome to my first blog of year. Not too sure what it’s going to be about just yet, kind of just sat down and decided it was about that time for a new blog.
I’m home tonight, for the first Thursday night I’ve been in San Diego in probably 6 months. Previous to tonight I was batting about .933 for going to the legendary Moon Doggies on any given Thursday night.
Probably asking your self why I’m home tonight? Why is tonight different?

Could it be:
A.) The city is under attack by giant sea creatures and they are blocking your route to the bar?

B.) Your ex girlfriend is at the bar hanging out with all your friends

or

C.) I’m tired of drinking and acting irresponsible

Actually the answer is none of the above. Here’s why:
A.) Not even a 263 foot tall octopus shooting lasers out of it’s eyes could stop me from going to Moon Doggies on Thursday. See below:

B.) This is something I don’t even want to talk about. Nor can I because all my friends read this blog and it’s one of those too close to home topics. Hurray!
And I’m probably going to get in trouble just for mentioning anything about it. Hurray!

C.) HAHA! I can be so funny sometimes

Actually I’m home tonight for a couple reasons. One, my liver still hates me from New Years eve. A lot. And two, it’s part of my New Years resolutions? Question Mark?
I made some resolutions this year and figure today was a pretty good day to start. This year my resolutions will be:

1.) Be less fat

2.) Save more(any) money

3.) Be more Artsy

4.) Write something?

1.) Be less fat – Pretty self explanatory. I used to be able to run a 4:35 mile, now I get winded up walking the stairs at work. I eat out every meal every day. It cost a lot and is probably pretty unhealthy. I went to the grocery store yesterday and went grocery shopping, it was probably only the 3^rd time I’ve been grocery shopping since moving to San Diego a year and a half ago. Awesome. To motivate me I’m posting a “before” photo.

2.) I’m bad at this. I make a decent amount of money and in “theory” should be able to save money, but I would guess 70 percent of my expendable income goes towards drinking of some kind. Is that bad? I feel the need to buy everyone and there mom a drink when I’m at the bar. It’s because I can, but I guess from now on I won’t be? Doubtful, anyone that knows me, knows free drinks. Think this one will be the hardest one to keep, I’m a very giving person. All I need is enough.

3.) I used to be more photograph artsy back in the day. Well not artsy, but know what people think artsy is. I don’t consider myself to have any type of artistic abilities, BUT I do know what people interpret as artistic. Lighting, perspective, dynamic subject, yada yada. People that say they took a photo that captures their inner child escaping from the darkness of solitude, are dumb.

4.) Write something? How does that work? I’d like to write something. Maybe like a screen play or book or article or something. I was watching super bad, and thinking that is exactly something I could have written. Clever, ridiculous, witty, awkward humor stuff. How do I do that? Can anyone help?

Enough lameness, now to the real reason why YOU are hopefully still reading this blog. You want to hear about something ridiculous that I did, sure, who doesn’t.

NEW YEARS EVE 2008!!

How the year began for me. . . .To be honest, I don’t really remember. It was blurry, tasted like tequila and definitively didn’t involve me making out with a girl at midnight (at least pretend to be shocked). But I’m skipping like 12 steps of how I got to the new year, let me jump back a few paces.

So my Friends decide they want to go this event being hosted down town at this hotel called the Witherby. I had never heard of it, but I’m not a big fan of down town.
Turns out this event down town was fancy pants for sure. The cover was 160 dollars. That’s right my friends 160 dollars!? What the F!? Not I didn’t get a BJ, or HJ, or even a ZJ for this wack amount. It was inclusive(so I thought!) of drinks and entrance, but still 160 dollars!? Since all my friends were going there, it’s not like I couldn’t not not (yeah I did a triple negative) go. What else was I going to do?
Had a friend visiting, so we both bought tickets to this event, thinking for 160 dollars we both better get at least HJ’s when we walk in.

Event is set to start at 8:30pm, my friend and I get all fancy pants up and head down town at 8:30 sharp. Fuck it, if I’m paying a lot I’m going to maximize my drinking time, like any responsible adult.

We are one of the first one’s in of course and head straight for the bar. We then begin to start making predictions about the “type” of girl that we can expect to be attending this type of event. Results of our analysis were not good. We determined it was going to be tough night to find ladies. Not that it’s ever easy, but the math wasn’t in our favor.

About my second trip to the bar (at this point it’s still pretty empty and early on in the night) a girl, yes you heard me right, a girl approached me and we started making some chit chat. Which I think I’m pretty good at, I make the jokes and the ha ha, and the what not. Not to be a jerk, but I am for the purposes of making laughs for this blog, this girl I was talking to was about a 6. I mean a six is great, in the engineering world she would be about 8.5 or a 9. And I’m no ten, or 9 or 8 or -3, actually I don’t know what I am, but at this point after making nice conversation ,for some reason I felt like I needed to say my goodbyes and “throw this fish back in the sea”.

I was feeling pretty good about myself, real fucking confident like I had brought my “A” game tonight. I mean I had only been there about twenty minutes and already I had 6′s approaching ME. Sixes! Girls never approach me. I walked back to the group and they were impressed that talking to a girl at the bar, it’s a pretty big deal for me. Some of the friends said I was an idiot and I should have latched onto her for the next 3.5 hours to lock in the midnight kiss, another guy gave me his words of wisdom.
“first you plant the seeds,
then you let the seeds grow, you water the plan, check up on it everyone once and a while,
Then you fuck you plant”
Deep words from a wise friend. But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

On any note I had a good feeling about the night and was optimistic about meeting girls. Little could I had foreseen she would be the only person I actually spoke too, out side our group of friends.

The night continues with me consuming a lot of alcohol, I mean a lot. I don’t really remember much after 11:30, but here’s what I do recall.

Apparently I kept asking my friend “where my plant went?” and was swimming through the crowd of people yelling “Six!? Where are you six!?”

HAHA! Really? I guess. It’s completely possible.

Count down to midnight was extremely anticlimactic, when the clock struck zero I was a few feet off the dance floor watching my friend make out with an Amazon. Slightly jealous, not of his Amazon, but of the midnight kiss cliché thing. I don’t think I’ve had the midnight kiss in a long long time. Maybe next year. Night winds down with mass consumption of alcohol. Apparently at 1:30 the bar is longer free. How did I find this out? When my buddy and I go up order some shots, take said shots, and the bar tender casually mentions that’ll be 24 dollars. WHAT!? My friend, being the outstanding gentleman that he is, booked for the door. Literally. He was gone. I was standing there, drunk and confused, I start making my escape when I get stopped about 15 feet by some giant of a guy who said in a firm voice “SIR, that’ll be 24 dollars”. “ohhhh, 24 dollars? I thought he was calling us Minty Ballers”. I paid the douche his money and made my escape to the street.
This is where things get super blurry.

Walking to a taxi, my friend told me I disappeared for about twenty minutes. When I returned he told me that I told him, that I had met a girl, walked her to her hotel and made out with her in front of her elevator. HAHA! First of all, this is probably false. What probably happened was I saw someone eating a burrito, chased them down the street, and got lost. I mean anything possible.
Is it bad I can’t remember? I haven’t had one of those nights in a while.
Happy New Year. Next blog will be more focused on a topic with pictures and probably funnier. I promise.

*Here’s a little fun fact:
About two weeks ago I posted a Craig’s list in Men Seeking Women. All it was, was one of my blogs and at the top I wrote “You could be dating this funny, normal guy with a job and a sweet car!?”. No pictures of me, no description of me, nothing about me, all it said was my age. I got about 15 responses. I don’t know if this is good, bad or average, but I thought that was a lot. So here’s the thing, so some of them seem normal enough to continue with the chit chat via email, we get to the point of exchanging myspaces(I know like third base right), and then communication seems to stop. Always. Seized, haulted, just stopped. For about the five I was emailing to, all five seem to taper off as soon as myspaces were exchanged. Interesting? Any hypothesis? Just something to chew on.

So yes, I’ve been meeting some people through myspace. And I’ve been going out and doing “things” in the real life with said people. Some, just a few, might call these encounters dates. Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t.

In the last month I’ve been on 5 first dates. That’s right 5. This number may not seem like a lot for you casual daters out there, but please consider it’s me, and this number is extraordinarily high going based on pass history since moving to San Diego. Out of these 5 first dates, I would say I’ve only gone on one second date. Only 20 percent return rate? I mean I had a great time on all 5 of these dates. . . .

Resume
I mean I had a great time on all 5 of these dates, I actually had a lot of fun with all of them. Did they not with me? Doubtful, I mean I’m awesome. Just kidding. But seriously.

Then why only a 1 in 5 chance of second date-age?
Here’s the truth. I don’t want to go on first dates. Well I mean I want to go on A first date, but I don’t want to go one five different first dates. I would have rather of gone out with the same girl five times. Does that make sense?NOT that I regret going out with any of the people I did, no no. Not at all.

Side note: I wouldn’t qualify myself as “dating” anyone right now. That requires multiple dates and making out.

So how did I get myself into the predicament of 5 first dates? I did some heavy analysis and number crunching and I came up with:
I suck.
I suck I suck I suck. I go out on “date” it’s a great time, I think, and then BAM,radio silence. Not because I don’t like said person, but because I’m insecure Ian and not sure if they have an interest in me. So how do I remedy this? I play captain cool pants and don’t do a thing. Nice.

Looking back in my college days, I can’t recall a “first date”. I don’t even think I went on a first date. Things were so much different back then, at least in my dating world.

Maybe I’m just freaking out? Maybe there is supposed to be big gaps between first and second dates? I know it’s my fault for lack of initiative, which is odd because I am captain initiative. At work I tear ish up with initiative, anyone who knew me in college knew I was president of everything and captain go getter, but it seems like girls are my kryptonite. I’m not sure really where I was going with this blog, I actually regret not writing about my New York adventures. Seems like that would have been a better read. Fuck it. You can’t win them all.