The village called, they want their handicap sticker back...

Either the guys I date are getting dumber or…you know what, I’m not even going to finish that sentence.

A friend of mine keeps telling me that I have to kiss a lot of frogs before I find my prince. But gheezus, I’ve kissed the entire pond, licked a lily pad (ok that sounds just wrong), accidentally made out with a crawdad and wrestled an alligator. My lips are slimy, I’m wet, cold, tired, possibly infected and I just want to go home to my honey already.

Humphffffff. * Proceeds to push out bottom lip and pout *

So I met this guy during Thanksgiving weekend. He is my best friend’s, boyfriend’s childhood friend (if that makes any sense). We met and hit it off that night enjoying each other’s company. I gave him my number, but later discovered that he lived two hours away. He recently moved closer to home, but still not close enough for us to actually go out on a date. So we basically pillow talk and that’s about it.

Here is the 411 on this guy: He’s ridiculously good-looking, (half black, half Sicilian) tall, nice, fun to hang out with (we’ve actually only hung out twice). Here is the catch: He recently broke it off with his fiancé, leaving her and their house, moved back in with his parents to “get back on his feet” (which is the reason he moved closer to me). He also around the same time got a DUI and has no cell phone. Did I mention he’s a nice guy? I know, I know a sh*t load of red flags went up a long time ago, but I think I was bent over kissing a frog when they started flashing.

Anyway, one can only imagine my surprise yesterday when he called me to tell me his car, which he isn’t even supposed to be driving, got towed and he needs $230 to get it back. Um, let me rephrase that, he was wondering if I had $230 to “loan” him so he could get his car back. I’m sorry, the last time we kicked it did I have ATM stamped on my forehead? No, I didn’t.

WTF??? Why did he ask me? Things would be different if he was my man. Things might have even been different if we had, oh I don’t know, at some point in time broke bread together.

Oh and that’s not even the best part. Does anyone want to know why his car got towed? This fool went and parked in a handicap spot. *pause for dramatic affect* He made it way too easy for me to make a remedial joke on his behalf. I think he might just need one of those handicap stickers to put on his car.

Please tell me it gets better. Somebody. Anybody? See why I was contemplating lesbianism? Nupe you might just get your wish sooner than expected…

ManDingo Wants to Shaboink-ya: Part I

"It's only kinky the first time."

Ok so this past weekend was a mini Novela series. Parts were blurry, but I remember a substantial amount of events thanks to some camera whoring.

I don’t know if anyone remembers “slow boy” the last guy I dated. It doesn’t matter if anyone does, because I haven’t heard from him. He must be lost in a cloud of smoke somewhere. I hope all is well.

So with that said, I have moved on and boy does it just keep getting better and better. I met this new guy not too long ago. We went on a few dates, nothing major. He’s cute, funny, respectful, etc. He basically thinks I’m GOD, which is great. The problem, once again, is that he is too nice. Like vomit nice. Like please, shut-the-f*ck-up nice. (Yes, it is another case of him probably wanting what he can’t have and once he gets it, he won’t want it anymore). Cynic?

So anyways, a couple of girlfriends from out of town came to stir up some trouble with me this weekend. (You know the hot friends with the big boobies that get us free admission and free drinks). Before we leave to go out on Friday, I mention that, “I hope I don’t run into "new guy", because I was supposed to call him back, but I didn’t.”

So we get downtown in our slut attire. On our way to the bar we got some offers to make some quick cash, but we obliged. "How much?" some asshole yelled from down the block.“What mothaf*cka,” I yelled back. “Come back and say it to my face so I can kick you in the balls.” (People can be so rude). We make it to the bar and the lovely ladies get us right inside no sweat. Nice.

As soon as I walk into the bar, there he was, "new guy" 12’oclock. Just my luck. Good thing I’m so smooth at playing things off. I tried to do a quick magical disappearing act, when I heard him call out my name.

Damn it.

I turned back around, flashed him a fake smile and said a fake, “Hi.” He was with a few of his buddies so we all grouped up and headed for the bar. As we were leaning in to order our drinks, I said the first thing that came to my mind, “so, I was going to call you, but um yeah…” Ok that fell short, damn it, I couldn’t even think of an excuse. He cut me off.

“It’s cool,” he said. “I wanted to show you something though.”

“What?” I asked.

“My d*ck,” he replied.

I coughed and choked a little. (I swear some Tokyo Tea and a cherry squirted out of my nose).

“What?” I said again.

“Remember when you told me that you didn’t want to date me because you thought I had a little d*ck?” he said.

No way I thought to myself. I remembered thinking that, but more importantly, I didn't remember actually voicing it. Not to anyone, much less him.

“I said that?” I said. “I must have been drunk.” (It was the only justification I could come up with). Ok now I was embarrassed. I decided to leave it at that and went to go dance-it-off, with my girls.

By 2 a.m. the three of us came stumbling out of the bar hand in hand. We made it home piling on top of each other on my couch. We all got to work on our phones, going crazy drunk texting. I opened up my phone to (omg) find the thickest, longest shaboinka staring back at me. No he didn't. "New guy" was Mr. ManDingo himself…

And now a msg from slow boy...

I got an IM from slow boy at work today. A pointless conversation to say the least...

slow boy: Hi
MsP: hay
slow boy: Ok Miss hay, how are you?
MsP: what? im good how are you?
slow boy: Im good
MsP: i thought you were dead
slow boy: I just wanted to see how you were and that I was thinking about you. What does that mean? Why?
MsP: thinking about me?
slow boy: Why would you say you thought I was dead?
MsP: i havent heard from you, but i guess i could have called
MsP: my bad
slow boy: The door swings both ways doesn't it?
MsP: I guess
slow boy:I like to get high my bad am I a bad person because of it
slow boy: ? Wow silence I guess I am...
MsP: it s just that i told you i dont like it and everytime we hang out you were either high or getting high
slow boy: I get what your saying but do you have a problem with it?

he really is slow...

Nice Guy Gets High Fast

"The best part about alcohol: If you don’t remember, it didn’t happen."

Omg!! I just had the best dream ever!

For me, when people say this before they proceed to try and describe their dream, I'm like please, just shut up already. Honestly, your dream was only good in your mind, while you were sleeping. I, however, wouldn’t have brought my dream up if I didn’t think that it wasn't worth sharing.

I know I'm great. I share. Well, in my dream, I was on a party bus, with Cameron Diaz, on the way to Vegas!!

See, now I bet you want to hear more, but that’s all I got. I woke up before I got to the good stuff.

Yeah, I was disappointed too.

Waking up after another date from hell, the Cam dream did totally make my day though.
Yeah, yeah I’m dating. It sucks. Please spare me any commiseration. I already feel sorry for me too.

So, I met this guy about a month ago. He’s kind of slow. Slow as in, when I tell a joke, he has like a three second witticism delay. Not that I’m a comedian or anything. I mean if it’s not funny, it’s not funny. But if he's laughing late, because I had to rewind and break down the joke for him to get it, then it’s funny and he's just f*cking slow. (Or I could be a bad joke teller, but I'm going to stick to my original argument of him being slow).

I should also mention that he smokes weed on an “occasion.”
He filled me in on this bit of information during an intellectual conversation, where I told him that I try to avoid dating guys who are into smoking weed and playing video games. I didn’t know that it would be so hard to find a guy to meet the criteria of hobbies that don’t include killing brain cells. These days they are hard to come by. I don’t know, maybe the weed explains the delay. At the same time, if he were *high* there wouldn’t be a delay, right? He would laugh quickly at pretty much anything.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this...

Let me just say, I’m trying to see past the slowness and the weed smoking, because he’s nice. And I drink.

Anyway, slow guy took me out to dinner on Friday, to Romano’s, a.k.a., the Macaroni Grill. Somewhere I had never been before, because in my mind I had pictured Bertha, with a hairnet, scooping macaroni out buffet style to Jimbo and them.

I was pleasantly surprised when we got situated at the bar that this was a place I might actually enjoy.

I would call our dinner date, the ‘official’ third date for slow guy and I. (We still had to suffer through small talk and ask each other every five minutes, “is everything ok?”) The evening started off like any other opening night, as he made a toast we giggled and flirted. Slow guy was even sweet enough to help me figure out the foreign menu of pastas and wines.

Somewhere between the appetizers and the main course I managed to have one too many Washington Apple shots. I washed them down with two glasses of wine and grew impatient with our now dry conversation. I’ll admit, I’m a cheap date and by the end of dinner I had to pee and slow guy was getting on my nerves with his Q&A survey of, “so tell me about you?”

I’ll tell you about me. I have a small bladder and I’m going to need another shot to continue this boring ass conversation.

By the time we headed back to his place I wasn’t walking crooked, I was walking in circles. (I think I played it off though; my slurred speech might have been the only thing giving me away). When we got back to his place his roommate was sitting on the couch rolling a fatty. Without any hesitation, slow guy plopped down on the couch, eager to join in on the rotation of the puff. I know I was a ‘little’ sloshed, but couldn’t he have waited until I went home to satisfy his craving? He might as well have whipped out his d*ck and slapped me in the face with it.

Oh well, I guess it never would have worked out with slow guy anyway. We obviously don’t share the same interests. He's a pothead, I'm a drunk. He eats, I throw up. He stares at things for long periods of time, I pass out. He chills on the couch, I stumble around. You get the point.

He was considerate enough to offer me a hit.

I told you he was a nice guy.