Archive for category nerd
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.
Craig’s List All Stars 1.0
Posted by Single Steve in Craigslist, criags list, dating, funny, humor, nerd, rant on February 24, 2009
Craig List. Where else on the internet can you find a job, get free fill dirt, buy a urine soaked coach AND get a date!? Craig’s List! It baffles me the number of douche bags who post shirtless photos of themselves with posting titles like “hey guuuuurl”, and think “Yep, I’m gonna get so much ass. I’m talking like boy bad ass”. They’re begging for me to make fun of them….
I would like to start with, yes I am going to be a sarcastic jerk when talking about the following post, but I think it’s fair. If someone somewhere around the world wanted to take something I’ve posted online and write a funny rant about what a douche bag I am, more power to them. Also I’m banking on the people I write about will never ever find out.
First one up is Chesty Mcgee.
I actually really hope this guy doesn’t find out I’m making fun of him, as he could tear of my arms with his neck muscles.
Next one I call Liar Liar Pants on Fire
I saw this one and jumped with glee at the idea of making fun of this ass clown.
If you’re going to flat out lie on your posting at least make it a good lie.
He claims to be the son of a fortune 500 Business owner and is seeking a woman to live a life of luxury. . . . . like really?
This guy obviously thought out his super genius plan to get girls on Craig’s list prior to posting. I applaud his effort, but unfortunately for him I will use my super powers of cynical sarcasm and my GIFT OF SIGHT to shoot holes in his flawless Craig’s list posting.
I’m going to go sentence by sentence through Richey Rich’s posting to show you just where he went wrong.
“Hello, ladies i am currently the son of a furtune 500 Bussiness owner and I need a women who is ready to spend the life of luxury.”
Apparently, being a the son of a “Furtune”(look it up asshole, it’s spelt FORTUNE) 500 company he was unable to find a computer that has spell checker. Which is odd because I’m pretty sure that it started coming standard on computers made after 1993.
Also he mentions that he is “currently the son”, like as if tomorrow, magically, he won’t still be the son of this “fortune” 500 company. One thing I am sure of:
You are currently an idiot.
“I know you might be confused at first, but you will get used to the change quickly as money has the power to do so.”
He claims your small girl brains may be confused at first, but don’t worry ladies, it’s nothing that the power of money can’t fix. What I think is going to be most confusing to the ladies is why he picks them up in a Geo Metro for their date.
“so act fast as i will go through the process very quickly. Beauty is what i am looking for. So a picture is a must less is better..”
Nothing to grand about this last sentence besides the spelling mistakes and poor grammar, but you better act fast before you lose out on such a great opportunity! Be sure to send pics! But I hope not too many reply, as it will jam up his dial up connection.
Get excited. Here comes the best part. Dude says:
“here’s a picture of me at my place..”
Here is my analysis. . . . .
I’m actually really curious as to how many girls fall for this post and respond to him with hopes of living a life of luxury.
Got me thinking. Maybe I should post up something like this. Claiming something ridiculous and see who responds. Example A . . . . . . .(a fake post I made up)
Well I was going to pick out a few more Craig’s list postings, but I think I’ll stop for today. Perhaps if this was a hit I shall continue with my analysis of CL postings. Let me know, comment so.
So ironically with all this Craig’s list talk about how people create ridiculous posting to attract girls, I need a date. Apparently there’s some semi formal company dinner thing December 8th, that I am needing a date for. A lot of the “cool” kids from work are going and it should be a good time, so I went ahead and got two tickets in over confidence I can find someone to go with before then.
Now we all know how well it worked out last time when I made a pathetic plea for a date for Disneyland. . . . I’m not actually asking for a date, but if someone, in theory were free that day and would like a free delicious meal and drinks they should probably let me know.
If not, I got a back up date of taking Mrs. Durst. My friends mom. Seriously.Yeah should be a good time.
Drinking, It's not just for children anymore
Posted by Single Steve in bars, dating, funny, girls, humor, nerd, online dating, rant on February 22, 2009
********Old Blog, Back Posting**********
Have you ever waken up and just felt ashamed? Like you aren’t sure why you feel ashamed of what ever you did last night, but you just know you should. Maybe it’s not just ashamed, maybe it’s like 50 percent ashamed and 50 percent embarrassed.
This morning I woke up and I was over come with this fantastic feeling. Why?
Maybe it was because this morning I woke up still wearing what I wore out the night before? Or maybe the fact that I still had my shoes on? Was it because my mouth tasted like I ate a bucket of sand before going to bed? I don’t think it was because I woke up on a friends couch, I do that all the time. I did how ever wake up covered in straws, yes straws. Drinking straws. It was a little unusual, but I still don’t think that’s why I felt so ashamed/embarrassed. As I got up and walked out the front I started shifting through my pockets for my keys. . . .BINGO.
I had found the reason why I should be ashamed. Finally.
What did I discover deep within my front right pocket?
Carne Asada. That’s right, carne fucking asada, IN my pocket. WHAT!? No this isn’t one of those “I’m soooo Mexican that. . . ” jokes. I literally, yes literally, woke up with carne asada IN my pockets.
What the hell did I do last night that I ended up with chunks of grilled steak meat IN my pocket!?
So to recap:
I’ve done this before(Best Date Ever Blog!!), and I want to try this again. Let’s Quentin Tarantino this situation. Let’s start at the beginning of the night and see if we just can figure out how exactly we got to the “Anatomy of Steven this Morning” situation.
So let’s start off with what happened. Actually let’s start off with what DIDN’T happen. What didn’t happen was, was I didn’t eat dinner.
Strike 1.
I left work about an hour early for happy hour with some co workers, had a quick 2 glasses of always delicious blue moon. After that I made my way to my company drinking softball league. I’m not actually what you call “good”, I’m more the guy that shows up to play the minimum 3 innings, drink beer and meet people. Had a few more drinks. It’s a good time had by all. After that I went home for approximately 3.2 minutes changed my clothes and was off to Linedoggies (AKA Moondoogies). Nothing really happens for a long time, besides me drinking an obscene amount. But to be fair, I had notified all my friends I was with that tonight was I was in “black out mode”. I don’t know how me telling my friends my intent to drink a lot actually justifies me drinking a ridiculous amount . But what ever helps you sleep at night. So yeah, basically I drink a lot, I mean at two dollar you call it’s, how can I be drinking a lot. I have to make up for the nights that they run their other special of “Nine dollar beer night”.
Here comes a funny story of me being a drunk fool:
So at some point I get a text message from a female friend asking what I was up to and where I was at.
Some back ground about this friend: She is actually someone I met through my myspace blogs. Yep. The system works. She’s funny, attractive and seems like a cool person. We’ve had the lunch and met up a couple times in PB. I’m always down to meet new cool people in San Diego. We haven’t like hooked up or made out or anything, you know just hanging out.
So anyways she tells me she’s in line and coming in. I’m pretty stoked. Because at this point I’ve had about twenty of the two dollar you call its and I’m stoked about every thing.
Here’s the scoop. I’m not really sure where I stand with things like this. Like does she call/text me at because she “likes” me, or she just wants to hang out as friends. I’m COMPLETELY and utterly clueless, maybe that’s why I “gay friend zone” myself with all my girlfriends. Anyways in my extremely drunken stooper, I figure there is a slight chance(slight chance that is now probably a ZERO. . .ha, well get there) that she, pretty girl in San Diego, might, might is the key word, want to make out with me. I know, I know, sounds ridiculous, but please bare with me.
Seeing how I haven’t made out with anyone in over 6 months, this is a rare opportunity. Yes you heard me, 6 months. Well there was once in that time but we were in no condition to be remembering things, and if you ask her she might not even verify it happened. Don’t even get me started on sex, because I’m pretty sure I might be a born again virgin. Anyways, not the point. NOT the point.
Point is, said girl is coming to the same location that I am existing at and my drunken mind set is telling me there is slight chance she might not be completely appalled at the idea of kissing me. Things are looking up.
For this portion of the story there’s two versions of the story. There’s what my drunk ass think happened. And then probably what actually happened.
Here’s my drunk version of story:
I’m at the bar. I casually pull out my phone and notice said girl has sent me a text message letting me know she’s inside. I calmly stroll over to where she said she’s located. I gently bump her on the shoulder and give her a welcome and hello. I notice she’s with dude, and I think she was holding his hand.
Just then it was probably the most awkward silence I have felt in a long time. It felt like all the music had stopped, and there’s was nothing but silence and stares for at least 8 minutes. I was probably standing there for at least 10 minutes. I said something to the extent of “well I’ll see you later” and casually walked off.
Here’s what probably actually happened:
I’m at the bar(yeah that part stays the same). It takes me probably about 2 minutes of digging through my pockets to determine which one of things in my pocket is actually my phone. I pull out my phone, glare at it with one eye close, you know doing that drunk stare. You close one eye because somehow you think that’s actually going to increase your ability to see. I see that said girl has text. I stumble over to the area she say’s located, I’m sure I bumped into at least 20 people on my voyage to the other side of the bar. In my version of the story I mentioned how I gently nudge her on the shoulder, but in reality in my haze I’m sure it was more like a hard shove to the back. I’m not even sure if I spoke any cohiernt words to her. I’m almost positive my “welcome and hello”, was more like a chubaka war cry.
So there was a dude standing behind her, I’m not actually sure he was holding her hand, he may or may not have been just in line to get a drink. I was probably only swaying there next to her for no more then 30 seconds before decided there was an awkward silence and left.
So that’s where the stories differ.
BUT, who cares if she was holding that guys hand!? I shouldn’t! right? I mean I’ve met this cool chick a few times, we’ve never even hugged, why would I be all Jealous Jill if she was holding some dudes hand?? Who knows. Alcohol?
I’m sure she just wants to hang out and make the jokes, that’s my forte and what I like doing.
The story gets better. At some point later in the night I text her:
Seriously!!! Hahaha! Man I’m ridiculous. What!? “UR cut”, who am I Donald Trump, with the “You’re Fired!”. Apparently I’m a mean drunk? Or just a dumb one. And by me sending her this message assumes that she was at some point UNcut. Like there was a chance she was thinking the same drunkenness I was thinking. I don’t even have the right to “cut” this poor girl out of the fantastic that would be making out with me. She probably got this message and was sooo confused. Actually this was her response a little later that night:
Exactly my thoughts. You can tell by the number of exclamation marks she is as equally as confused. Poor thing. I just hope she didn’t read my message and think that I was actually talking about cutting her with real knives. She was probably thinking “Oh shit, why does this Mexican want to cut me?”. So that was that. She actually text me today, she didn’t mention hating me. Maybe it will be okay? And I realize that she is probably going to read this and it will make more sense to her, and I will hopefully be able to work my way up from “Dude that wants to cut her” status to “funny friend from the internet” status.
Oh the night continues. Or so I’ve been told. Bar closes down and we stumble our way down to the shitty 24 hour Mexican food. Which surprisingly isn’t so shitty at 2 in the morning. We get our food, and on our way out apparently I think it’s a great idea to grab about 100 straws in my hands and stumble out of the place. I guess as soon as we made it outside I threw them all up in the air like I felt it needed to be raining straws. I’m surprised I didn’t get beat up, I guess I was throwing straws at random people and then proceeding to giggle like a little school girl. Somehow, somehow we managed to make our way back to our friends house(I sleep on his couch at least twice a week. . .) and gorge on the delicious meal at hand. Now I’m not actually sure how or when the carne asada went from being inside my burrito to nesting it’s way into my right pocket. Perhaps I thought it would be a tasty treat in the morning? I fell asleep at some point, and this is how I got to the “Anatomy of Steven this Morning” situation.
Now that I’ve scared away anyone who might want to be my friend. . . .I promise I’m not a Jealous Jill. Thats why this situation was so ridiculous.
Anyone want to go see Shrek 3? I want to go, but I don’t want to go with my dude friends. Just throwing it out there. . .
Leave a comment if
-you have equally ridiculous stories.
-you’d like to comment and tell me how ridiculous I am
-you were there that night and have more details of what actually happened
-general comments about funniness
-you don’t want me to cry myself to sleep tonight
If you thought this was funny, maybe you should tell your friends? I won’t be offened if you tell your friends to read this blog as well. really.
Match.com mix up
Posted by Single Steve in dating, funny, girls, humor, nerd, online dating, rant on February 21, 2009
********Old Blog, Back Posting**********
Before the show, I’ve got some pre-blog thoughts:
OLE! As some of you may know, it turns out I’m actually Mexican. It’s true. It’s also true that I am the token Mexican of my group. You know that guy that’s responsible for saying “Ole”, jokes about yard work and stealing. It’s hilarious, and a good comedy angle for me to use. So I figured ,it was my duty as the token Mexican of the group, to show up for cinco de mayo celebrations in the most obnoxious sombero I could possibly find. Sounds easy enough, right? Well apparently it is IMPOSSIBLE to find a sombero any where in San Diego. It’s not that they were all sold of somberos, they actually just don’t sell them. I spent two hours driving and searching on a epic quest to find a sombrero. I went down to the “Mexican” part of San Diego. I went into, literally, 1 walgreens, 1 CVS, 3 dollar stores, 2 Carnicerias(Mexican meat markets), 1 thrift store and one place I thought was a store but it turned out to the year 1988. This place was selling cassettes and fanny packs, so I assumed it was the 1988 Store. The places I went into and asked them if they carried sombreros, they looked at me like I was speaking Spanish. Well, that’s probably a bad simile, but you get the point.
I guess it makes sense. I’ve never actually seen a “real” Mexican wearing a sombrero, besides cartoons. The only time I’ve seen a sombrero, is on some jackass white guy, who is pretending to be Mexican while he screams things like “burrito!” and “chalupa!”.
I was looking in the wrong part of town! Mexicans don’t wear sombreros! So instead I had to borrow a gardeners’ hat and put Mexican themed labels on it. See below.
It worked out for the best. I think? Details of that night are hazy. All I know is I woke up on a friends couch, tasting of tequila with my shoes on. That’s right, I’m a grown up!
BLOG part:
Times like these I wish I was a better writer because the following tale deserves to be told in all it’s glory.
The follow is a TRUE story. I couldn’t make this stuff up, we all know I’m smart enough. The follow images are un-manipulated, other than texting on top.
So as you know, I am giving up online dating. But since I have 5 more months paid I might as well turn it over to friends to see what they can do with it. Right? Right.
Last week I logged into my account just to get one last mental snap shot of what failure of online dating looks like, when the greatest thing that has happened to me in a long time, happened to me.
At first I wasn’t actually sure what happened. And once I realized what had happened, I almost refused to believe it. I still don’t believe it.
I logged into match.com as normal, but when the welcome page loaded. Something, something was different. Usually my eyes glaze over in preparation for disappointment, so I thought initially that my eyes were playing me for a fool. But after doing that thing where you rub your eyes with both hands in disbelief, this is what I saw:
Those of you playing at home. This is exactly what it looks like. I, some how, through the magic of cyber space logged into someone else account. NO didn’t hack my way, YES I was giggling with excitement that this happened. At first I thought it was Ted or Jackie, who I gave my account info to, and they had changed my profile pic to this guy. I called Ted laughing, I thought it was funny, because I thought Ted was just completely changing the profile to this fake person. Ted had no idea what I was talking about, and told me he hadn’t even logged in once yet. . . . .My laughing turned to excitement. Excitement that this might actually be someone else’s online dating profile. I quickly started taking as many screen shots as I could of this guys profile, all the mean while I was doing that mad scientist cackle. It was great.
I don’t even know how this is possible, but it’s like God himself(or maybe Dr. Phil) came down to me and appeared in a tortilla. But instead of a tortilla, he logged me into someone else’s account. THE BEST PART of this mix up is that this guy is EVERYTHING I’m not as far as online dating goes.
Let’s do a comparison of the initial login screens:
I can’t believe how night and day my profile is, compared to his. The only cynical joy I can get out of this, is hoping that maybe we criss crossed. I logged into his, and he into mine. When he logged in, it must have been a sad day for him to see he only had 27 views and his last wink in 30 days was from a himself. What joy I would have gotten to hear or see his expression as he logged in and saw a 24 year old Mexicans failed online profile.
So of course I had to figure out what this guy was doing right. Right? Wouldn’t you? Now I realize he’s a real person, who exist in real life and by this time you probably think I’m worst than Hitler for not immediately logging off from the profile after the little mix up, and what’s even worst is I’m going to go through his messages!? Well it’s true. I figure, I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s Match.com’s fault. Or maybe, just maybe one of the techno nerds at match.com did this on purpose, so I could see what a good profile looks like.
Initial Messages:
This is where I fail. I’m not good at the initial message. What do you say? How do you show interest but not sound like an over aggressive creeper. Also what do you say, so you don’t get lost in the mass emails I’m sure she receives. Well lets find out what the expert does:
So there’s more messages that I “captured”, but my conscious just hit me. I am feeling increasingly more and more guilty about putting this guy’s, who I’m sure is a nice guy, messages up. I know I know, it’s a shame, but trust me their good material.
I’m going to move on the next part. Which ironically is me actually using his profile for evil. I WAS just the silent observer, print screen-ing all of his messages, but after a while(probably about 6.7 seconds) my cynical humor set in.
How funny would it be if this guy, who’s profile I’m logged into, started winking at guys. Well that’s not really that funny, but when winked at the correct “targeted” profiles, it could be hilarious. Don’t understand what I mean?? See below. I winked at the following two profiles. Let me explain why.
Well that’s it. I leave you with words from our dear friend. I sent myself a message from this guys profile. It’s what I would image he would say:
Internet Popularity
Posted by Single Steve in bars, dating, funny, girls, humor, nerd, online dating, rant on February 21, 2009
********Back posting, Old Blog************
****Updates:
I’m turning over my online dating accounts to Ted and Jackie. Ted’s an old friend who knows the in’s and out’s that is Steven, and he recently just got engaged to Jackie who is an creative writing major graduate. So I figure it’s a winning combo. Well see. I can’t do any worse? I’ll keep you updated .
****
Dear Diary,
Been thinking recently about the idea of “Internet Popularity” and just how ridiculous it is.
Just some internet popularity stats. I’ll break them down at the end.
-256 Blog Subscribers
-497 Myspace Friends
I got a friend request today, and it was from a very attractive girl. I’m just as shocked as you are. But there’s more.
Believe it or not this situation happens to me on a daily basis. BUT 99.5 percent of the time, it’s some fake girl who’s new to town and claims I can get a free PS3 by taking a quick survey and wants me to click her web cam. But today, I was almost creeped out to find this girl actually “exists.” She wasn’t a robot!? So I messaged her to inquire as to why she, ‘random attractive girl’, would request to be my friend. Not that I’m against random attractive people, that exist, attempting to add me. I was just curious.
She messaged back with:
“I ran across your blog and you are soooo funny!! Hilarious!”
And that’s it.
So this got me thinking about two things.
One, since I have kind of a sarcastic cynicism view of things, I assumed her message was in “the code”. You know, the one code where when some ask you about so and so and you say “well Lisa. . .Lisa has a great personality”. Which is actually code for: Lisa is a fat cow who attempted to eat your shirt because you spilt barbeque sauce on it, last time you were out with her. Yeah that Lisa.
Was this random girl telling me I’m funny, “code” for something else??
Probably not, but it’s funny to think about it:
So I have no idea how I got off on that tangent. And I’m pretty sure girl actually just thought my blogs were funny and it wasn’t code for she thinks I’m fat. Eh.
Two, why can’t real life be this!? This actually almost enrages me.
Lets move this to a real life situation.
In real life, under no condition, would a random attractive girl walk up to me in a bar and ask to be my friend without me even saying a single “real” word to her. It just doesn’t happen.
I’ve gotten several of these random friend request(10-20). Some from dudes, some from girls. Some were attractive, and some. . . .well some looked like they had great personalities(see above). I’m not against the random friend add, especially if it’s because they dig the blog. My only complaint is if these random girls are wanting to be my “myspace friend” because they think I’m funny or what ever, does this mean they would be my friend in real life? Doubtful.
They would never come up to me randomly in a bar and speak to me, let alone request my friendship. How would they even know I spoke English?
I have to light myself on fire and start break dancing, just to get girls to notice me at bars.
My thought is I need some type of T-shirt so said random girl knows just how awesome I am and will approach me in real life.
Below are some prototypes:
Any ideas for something else that might work??
One last thing. Kind of on the same wave length of being an internet whore.
It’s come to my attention that you, yes you, are a thief. You are going to completely read this blog and then not comment. Now this isn’t just me being negative nancy. I actually did some math. Below is the actual myspace counter for views and ish to your blog.
thats it.AND I’m Single??
I get my jollies from comments.
Disneyland: It could happen to you
Posted by Single Steve in dating, funny, humor, nerd, online dating, rant on February 20, 2009
********Back posting, Old Blog************
Well apparently people are dying to know how Disneyland was and who the lucky girl was. . . And by dying to know I mean no one is actually dying to know, but I’m going to tell you anyways.
For those of you just tuning in, let me set the scene first:
2 months ago the older bro told me that him and his girlfriend were planning on coming to visit and we should all go to Disneyland. He asked me if I could find a date by then. I guess in a wave of over confidence, I said finding a date would be no problem.
Flash forward to 1 week ago. Still haven’t “found” a date. Please don’t pretend to be shocked, it just embarrasses you and me both.
Side tangent: “Found” is a funny word, because I wish it was as easy as ‘finding” something. Like I could just follow some type of treasure map or even some set of clever riddles. I mean I’m pretty good at following instructions and/or figuring out riddles and clues.
To be fair though, I wasn’t really looking or even trying to find a date specifically for Disneyland. In hindsight I probably should have been. . .
I actually should have just spend the those two months attempting to make a girl robot to be my date, think I would have had more success than I’ve been having with the online dating scene.
So last week I put out kind of a panicked blog about needing a date 911 for the following Friday. To which I got a great response. Though most of them were Arizona locals, it’s still something. I did get a few local San Diego people inquiring about the possibility.
(Big THANKS to SUSIE for getting the word out to her local SD girls.)
It turned out to be a bigger debacle than I was expecting. So I decided just to ask an old friend from high school who lives up in LA to keep it simple. I know we would have a blast and it would avoid the whole possibly awkward and disastrous blind date situation. (though looking back I regret this decision.) So I asked girl from LA, she responded with an enthusiastic yes. She even commented on my facebook wall expressing her excitedness for the Disneyland adventure. So in the mean time I politely declined the others who had expressed an interest in going.(I AM AN IDIOT.COM)
In fact I’m hoping, cough cough, that I actually get to meet/hang out with some of them anyways. . .
Wednesday night I call LA girl to just to double confirm that she’s still on board for Friday. Why wouldn’t she be right? HA.
She casually informs me she has a test on Friday, and probably wont be able to make it. . . . WHAT!? A test!? A surprise test? A test she didn’t know about 5 days earlier? Huh?? Is a “test on Friday” girl code for something? And besides that, if I hadn’t called on Wednesday night just to confirm, when was she going to tell me about this test? I’m not actually upset that this particular person couldn’t go, but more the fact that I am now going look like a super jerk asking people I had previously canceled if they still were able to go THE NIGHT BEFORE. That’s the first impression I want to make, first the guy that passes on nice pretty girls that want to go with him to Disneyland, than the duche bag that says just kidding, I would love to go with you, the night before.
So as expected the people I contacted the night before, asking if they would be able to go with me to Disneyland in less than 10 hours, shockingly, said it was too late to be asking. Score one for me looking like a jerk.
After all that I still ended up going to Disneyland alone! HA!
DISNEYLAND itself:
The brother, his GF and myself had a blast at Disneyland. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible NOT to have a great magical time. I didn’t get the chance to feel like the third wheel as most rides at Disneyland are kind of a group experience.
I was going to make this into a whole big part with hilarious observational humor about the groups of people at Disneyland, but it’s getting late and I’m getting increasingly lazy. So instead I’ll just pop in some photos and explain some highlights a call it a night.
One event that was notable was the epic adventure of obtaining monogrammed hat seen below.
Notice it says “Single”. Getting this hat was quite the covert operation.
First attempt, I walk with my Mickey Mouse ears up to the register, happy as can be, and tell the attractive 20 something year old female I would like to purchase this hat and get it monogrammed with the name “single” on it. Out of no where, this man appears, I’m pretty sure he was hiding under the counter waiting for such an opportunity to surface. This man has a grand total of three teeth and the three teeth he does have are shaped like broken pieces of cinder block. I didn’t know whether he was going to ring me up or try to bite me. He pushes the pretty girl asides and in his carny voice he informs me that it’s against Disneyland policy to have nicknames stitched onto the hats. I told him that it wasn’t a nick name and to please proceed with making this the happiest day of my life.He then asked to see my ID. WHAT the ISH? My ID to purchase a monogrammed hat at the happiest place on earth? Instead of making a huge scene, I just got a hat that said Steven on it. You win this round you three toothed mastermind.
I promptly lost that hat 2 hours and 6 minutes later on the Indiana Jones ride. That’s right. I’m a responsible adult.
But this did give me the opportunity to battle the three toothed hat maker one more time.
This time I sent in Gabbi, my brothers girlfriend. The plan, she would go in and tell the evil hat maker her name was Sing-Le. Full Proof. She walks in, pretends to be “foreign”, pronounces her name awkward, bada bing bada boom. I was going to walk in to the store to silently observe the process and see how operation “I’m foreign” was going, but then I remembered how dangerously attractive and unforgettable I was and didn’t want to risk the operation by being spotted. There were some tense moments, but this was the winning solution which got me my over used pity party expression of “single”. I think it’s still funny? Perhaps it’s played out?
This could have bee you! But I blew it!
Speaking of:
I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m giving up online dating. Well “giving up” is slightly misleading, it assumes that it was working at some point.
7 Months, 1 worst date ever, about 200 dollars for membership fees, and losing my dignity is where I call it quits.
This is what I still see when I log into eharmony.com:
Really?? I’m on hold with nine girls at the same time? And this is the same screen I’ve seen for a few weeks! Not a single girl wants to proceed even past the first step, which is exchanging background info, say what!?
So here’s what I’m thinking. I open up my online dating accounts to you. Yes you. I still have five paid months before the embarrassment is officially over.
What I’ll do is give you my login and password and you can either use it for good or evil.
You could either “fix” my profiles because there’s obviously something wrong with them, or you could change all my info so it reads that I live at home and have a level 47 Mage in D&D.
I’m undecided as to let this be a group activity or just turn it over to individuals.
Suggestions? Comment and let me know if you would like to have control of the accounts, and if you’d use them for good or evil.
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!
Girls at bars I hate, part one
Posted by Single Steve in Blogroll, Uncategorized, funny, girls, humor, nerd, online dating on February 5, 2008
Alliteration is awesome and hilarious, write that down
This is a realization blog.
1st Realization:
I love bars, but hate girls at the bars.
But you say, “Hey Steven, I’m a girl. I go to the bars. Do you hate me?”. Yes, yes I do. Well I don’t hate you, but rather the “group” of girls you fit into while you’re at the bar.
1st group I hate:
GIRLS NIGHT OUT!!!!
“Tabitha just got dumped by Jason, so we’re all going to go out and just dance. We just want to dance, dance the night away. F boys, F all boys, they’re all insensitive jerks”.
From here you and all your girlfriends get all did up and ready for the bars. But more importantly you make Tabitha, the girl that just got dumped, the most whoriest of them all. You think that by Tabitha being maxed out in her whore levels for the evening, this will attract Mr. Right. I can see your logic in this, but would like to see empirical results.
It’s always easy to find the “Tabitha” of the group, she’ll be the one that looks like this:
This was a tricky one. Though all the girls appear to be equal in levels of whoredom, the open shirt, bra exposed is a dead give away.
Man you guys look great!
At the bars, you continue to form what I like to call “girl circle of hate rays”, this is the impenetrable wall of girls circled up, shooting down any guy that dare approaches with rays of hate that appear to shoot directly out of your eyes.
Why do you get all did up, and THEN act surprised and angry when someone pays attention to you? Yes, I know girls get pretty because they like to feel pretty about themselves, but isn’t that just something they say?
It’s not that I actually go up and approach this group of girls, HA, the hate mostly stems from this group of girls skewing the already poor dude to girl ratio. Though they are “technically” in the bar, they can automatically be discounted from the ratio, for their rays of hate are too strong to over come.
I just don’t see why this group of girls can’t just buy 40′s, duck tape them to their hands and call that “girls night out”. I guess I’ll never understand some things about women. . .
So I’m skipping “groups of girls I hate at bars” groups 2-5 because I have some other realizations I want to get to before my ADD kicks in and I lose interest in writing this blog. I guess I can write about other groups in other blogs? If people want to hear about them? comment if so. Other groups include but are not limited too: “Team Asia!”, “Too hot for planet real life”, “The Bad Dancer”, etc, etc.
2nd Realization:
I love to dance, but can’t dance with girls at bars.
So it’s true, I love to dance. In a heterosexual type of way though. In fact, my mom and I both agree that I’m a good dancer. The only problem is:
I don’t feel like it’s my right to sneak around to the back side of a girl, and start rubbing my genitals up against her. That’s like third base.
Girls: YOU know exactly what I’m saying. So you’re out on the dance floor, getting jiggy with it in a circle with all your girlfriends, when up walks Randy Random Pants behind you and starts “grinding on you”. IMMEDIATELY your creep radar goes off. No girl I’ve ever seen/meet or known, has ever reacted initially excited about this situation. I’ve never seen a girl, with out looking, immediately go along with Randy Random Pants’s advances and start thrusting her hips into what could potential be a disease infested area.
You have to get verification from your friend whose dancing across from you in the circle for the Green Light Larry or the Negative Nancy. Standard girl protocol.
Now I could dance just “next to” or in the same area as the target girl or girl group, but for the brief awkward period in time, I’m dancing in the “loser dude dancing by himself” zone. There’s nothing more awkward than being that lone dude dancing by himself, not sure if you’ll be accepted or rejected, or even if the girl knows your intentions to infiltrate. What’s weirder than “loser dude dancing by himself” zone??? Well that’s the “2 or more dudes dancing with no girls” zone.
I once tried asking a girl if she would like to dance at Moondoggies. She looked at me like I was from Jupiter. Don’t think PB girls are much in the ways of guys that “ask” to dance. I think it’s the more the smash and grab technique.
Any suggestions on how to fulfill my love of dance?
3rd Realization:
Target Audience
I’ve come to the realization that I am attempting to attract a very specific audience. I don’t mean specific as in theres only 1-2 people I am attempting to attract, but specific in that it’s a targeted group of people. I came to this conclusion when one of my friends was making fun of my license plate and my new license plate holder.
As some of you may know, my current license plate reads “Neerd”. I think it’s funny, yada yada.
Recently, I decided to get a pretty aggressive custom made license plate holder. I’m still undecided as to whether or not it’s a keeper. What’s the public opinion?
So guy friends says “wow you’re never going to get a girl with that license plate”. Hmmm. Maybe he’s right? But after actually thinking about it:
That’s just it. If you don’t think this is funny, I don’t want to date you. I don’t hate you, I just don’t think we would be a good match(unless fucking doctor Phil decides to embarrass me more and tell me we have 24 points of compatibility. Then by law of online dating, I would like to date you. . . .) . I mean you don’t have to fall of you’re chair laughing, or even laugh at all. Just understand the sense of humor behind this.
I actually think my license plate is a good defense mechanism. Not that I am having issues in having to fend off girls because I am attracting them too many at one time. Defense mechanism, in that, my car(2006 Infinity G35), in theory, “could” attract girls because it could be associated with wealth(HA, jokes on them), in theory. And those type of girls that “would” be attracted to me because I drive a nice car, might be turned away my boldness of Nerdness levels.
To girls that read my license plate and say “wow that guy must be a complete nerd, and since I’m attractive and popular, I could never date a nerd”. Great, good. We’re agreed. I don’t want to date you either. I think this is the group of “girls” my friend was talking about when he said I was never going to get one because of my license plate.
So maybe my target audience is bigger than I think? But I feel like the girl population that would date a nerd is smaller than girls that would never date a nerd . I’m guessing it’s 25-75 ish.
JESUS this blog is long.
Dear Online Dating. . . . . F you.
Posted by Single Steve in funny, girls, humor, nerd, online dating on July 18, 2007
Online dating. The hilarity continues. I thought I would update everybody on how my online dating “experience” is coming along so far……. So everyone knows I joined match.com, but I also decided to join eharmony.com. As long as I’m giving up my dignity and doing online dating, I might as well go all out. P dot S, eharmony, slightly bogus in that they don’t let you “search” for girls. They(the eharmony gods) send you matches based on compatibility test. So once every 3 weeks, I get a match. Apparently nerdy, awkward, Mexican engineers isn’t everyone’s type?
Anyways the moral of the story is two different web sites, but they both seems to have common reoccurring “themes” of profiles. Allow me to present, dissect and be a jerk while I explain the different themes.
This first one I call:
The Mystery Box
This classification of profiles is reserved for the girls that have the “Match has selected later stage for photo sharing” option. So in eharmony.com there’s 4 different stages of “communication”, first is the about me sections, then there’s multiple choice questions, then actual questions, finally, a messaging stage. So this person has decided that for SOME reason they don’t want to share their picture until later a stage.
So here’s my analysis of the situation:
It then becomes the game of “What’s in the mystery box”.
If I could reference:
So you can either take a boat or the mystery box. Now a boat’s a boat, but the mystery box could be anything. It could even be boat.
Like a fool of course you take the box, even though in best case scenario the best you’re getting is a boat.
So instead of immediately stopping communication, you gamble, keep talking to her, keep answering questions, keep enduring the terrible and degrading process that is online dating. Why do you do it? Because. Because curiosity killed the cat. You know at some point she has to “show” her photo. And when that time comes your hopes are so high because you’ve now put in 6 hours of work and 4 fucking stages of communication, that of course you’re let down when she isn’t topless and looks like a super model. In fact chances are she’s wearing a turtle neck and STILL looks like big foot.
Picture with a .6 mega pixel camera
Seriously!? It’s the year 2007, we fucking have lasers that walk your dog and robots that tie shoes laces, and you still can’t find a digital picture of you from after 1993? I’m tempted to date this girl ONLY to take a photo of her.
“Me and the Girls.LOL”
This is one of my favorites. The classic “Me and the girls” group shot. How the hell am I supposed to know which one of these hoe bags you are from that caption!?
When this is your only photo up. Please go play in traffic. And I’m pretty sure you can always assume the girl in question is always the ugliest one in the photo. And surprise! I fear the “oh that’s me in background” explanation later, which confirms my fears. See diagram below.
I’m going to stop. There’s more themes I could talk about, but this blog is getting too long and my ADD is kicking in.
As far as an update about actually going out on “dates”. HA. Good one, jerk.
I promise I’m not a jerk, I just play one on TV, and for these blogs for comical reason.
Leave a comment, or I’ll stab you. I’m Mexican, we do those types of things.
If you “subscribe” to my blog I will enter you in a raffle to win that laser that walks your dog. Well not really, but it might compel me to write blogs more frequently.
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