I’ve decided to try online dating personals. Go ahead and laugh. I know I am. Worse comes to worse, I’ll get a good story out of the experience. I’ve been debating on whether calling it Nothing Personal or Natural Selection.
So why the act of desperation? Well, my college had an activity night on Friday where they were offering dinner and a movie to all students at the Oasis (this entertainment center) at Sawgrass Mills Mall. Not one to pass up on a free flick or free food, I went. And besides I’ve been feeling lonely. I rarely see Christine anymore, and we’ve mutually agreed(her more quickly than I, natch) that we should remain best friends but look elsewhere as well.
The dinner was at Empire Pizza in one of their party rooms, where they had a buffet consisting of two pasta dishes lined up. So there I am sitting at a table by myself, not knowing any of my fellow students. An employee is standing right at the buffet table, which is making me neurotic. Finally she goes to get glasses or something so I can serve myself. It might be lunch lady trauma that’s hold over from the years, but I can’t stand people who hover over food and serve you. We’re adults, let us serve ourselves!! I can never get seconds because of this. I’m afraid of what the person will be thinking. It’s like buying any size of condom outside of jumbo at a pharmacy.
I’m eating, and this girl finally sits at my table. We don’t say anything, and I start staring around at the other people. Frequently. Eventually, after about twenty minutes of that, this couple sits at the table, and engage the woman in small talk. I eventually chime in when the subject turns to movies (it’s a habit).We ask each other what movie we plan on seeing with our free ticket after dinner. I say The Aviator (I actually ended up seeing In Good Company which was good 2/3rds of the way before it felt the need to appeal to a mass audience. The soundtrack was atypical indy, but the kind I like, you can’t go wrong with Iron and Wine). The woman said she was thinking of seeing Are We There Yet?. Strike One. The couple said they were going to see Assault on Precinct 13. Strike Two. Then I made a joke about The Day After Tomorrow (my pick for worst flick of 2004) and everyone at the table enjoyed that piece of shit. Then I made a joke about the horridness of Danielle Steele which turned out to be the woman’s favorite author. That’s it, your outta here!!!
At that point, I had to leave. So I did, and saw my movie. But it got me to thinking how impossibly difficult it is for me to relate to most people. The truth is, I really don’t like most people. Don’t worry, you guys are cool (As are all the people who frequent any and every zone here). I realized that it would be hard for me to conventionally find someone to be with any capacity outside of a mile acquaintance. So I’m taking the easy way out. What’s the worst that could happen.
To be Continued……….
News In Haikus
Welcome to a new segment. I scoured the T.V. columnists gimmick bin, and lo and behold something tickled my fancy. And tickled. And tickled. It was quite a night, you’ll have to read about it in my memoirs someday. The basic (or whole) idea is that you get television news with thoughts attached in haiku form. I’ll be the best Haiku person since Basho. Doesn’t that sound like some Incredible Hulk type of super-strong anti-hero or perhaps a late 1980’s WCW midcarder villain? BASHO SMASH PUNY FORMS OF METERED VERSE!! BASHO WANT SEVEN SYLLABLES SANDWICHED BY TWO LINES OF FIVE!!! RAAAAARGGHHHHH.
Oooooooooookayyyyyy. And now, News in Haikus–
Johnny Carson’s dead
Yet Ed McMahon’s alive
Something is wrong here
Saturday Night Live
Is about to get whorish
With Paris Hilton
The sitcom Reba
Will feature Dolly Parton
Why is this still on?
That was fun. So’s this.
The Column Proper
Well it’s official. Turd sandwich was inaugurated last Thursday to serve his second term as president. I know, I know, it blows more than Paparazzi but what are you gonna do? Poor people will continue to be poor and Blue Comedy Tour will remain on the air. Congratulations Bush. But don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be so bad. Not if Bush elects to listen to my proposition gracefully. Mr. Bush, I offer you the chance to advance your agenda of manifest destiny and at the very same time entertain the masses. The House of Interiors meets interior design, advance by loads of crunk to give the nation it’s newest reality sensation, Pimp My Country. It snatches the interest of all demographics, especially the ones you’ve ignored. The NAACP will instantly forget how you’ve ignored them when they see this show.
Here’s the concept: We send about a 100,00 troops into any country (voluntarily, involuntarily, it doesn’t matter) with bullets and buckets. Of paint that is!! And we decorate the ever-lovin’ hell out of them. We cross over the lines of bureaucratic red-tape that keep us from interfering with countries and replace them with designs of red drapes! Each week it’s a different country with guest rappers serving as ambassadors of dopeness, with Colin Powell hanging along for the ride.
Let’s take for example the Vatican. That place is beyond old-school. It makes John Tesh seem hip by comparison. What the Vatican needs is a good pimping. In just a few months with some hard work we can transform the Vatican into (drum roll please)…..The Phatican!! With it’s bullet-proof exterior, the Pope-Mobile is already the envy of many rappers. Put some tight rims, and some holy hydraulics and you’ll be cruising out wild like every nights your Last Rites. And how about replacing the Pope’s hat with a sombrero. No one’s going to question the authority of a man in a sombrero. Plus we can replace that archaic smoke-blowing chimney with some loud speakers. Pump a joint way up on the speakers, and that way everybody’s going to know who the new Pope is, whether they want to or not.
Once Pimp My Country becomes the highest rated show on C-Span in the history of ever, we unleash it’s companion show, Queer Girls For the Third World, as hosted by Mary Cheney. We’ve tried everything with places like the Sudan and Palestine, and none of it ever coalesces the feuding factions in these countries. So let’s use lesbians!! They’re like a shot of whiskey. They instantly make anything better! We’ll have a mix of both hot and butch lesbians. The hot ones will go in in first and speak with the dictators. They’ll give them style tips, take them out for manicures and pedicures and watch Sandra Bullock movies. The butchies will just be there as peacekeepers to make sure all goes well. Soon every country will be pimped up by rappers and softened up by lesbians.
Let’s face it: The president could care less about mending Malaysia. Tsunamis are soooo last year. As a former cheerleader his heart lies in beautifying, not rectifying. This is the way of the future. And hey, If all else fails we can always fall back on my other idea, Who Wants To Bomb My Country?