Archive for category Love
Halloween, don't be that girl
It’s about that time of year again, the weather’s getting colder, the leaves are beginning to change color and girls are deciding which kind of slutty animal they want to be for Halloween. This blog is written for my female readers, all 3 of them.
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
Facebook will become self aware on August 29th, 2011
The journey continues, Captain’s Log:
9683 consecutive days of being alive. Yeah, that’s right, in a row.
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!
Started 2008 with a Bang!
*********old blog, back posting**********
From:Friday, January 04, 2008
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 3rd 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.
Girls I hate at bars, part two
Posted by Single Steve in Blogroll, Life, Love, Uncategorized, bars, dating, drunk, funny, girls, humor, nerd, online dating, rant, writting on February 5, 2008
So by popular demand, and by popular demand I mean one guy asked me to write it, I guess I’ll dive into observations I’ve made at bars about “Girls I Hate at Bars”. As you may recall I’ve already discuss the whoreyness that is “Girls Night Out”, if not please refer to this blog here.
2nd 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.
3rd 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!
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