Tag Archives: dates without underwear are the best kinds of dates

press play

Last night, while I was watching basketball and trying to convince my dog that my hand was not a chew toy, a commercial came on for a video game that can be controlled entirely by your voice.

Perfect.

That’s just what all the geeks need.  Now, instead of just sitting on their parent’s couch playing video games for six hours straight, they can yell commands the entire time too.  That will really help them with speaking to a woman other than their mom.

Video game companies need to stop this madness.  How about developing a game that will actually help all those dudes out there who would rather defeat the evil warlord than talk to a woman?

I think a video game that dealt with real dating situations would be helpful to these guys.

Imagine the possibilities:

Level 1: Getting the number of an attractive female

The player must navigate a world in which one mention of living in his parent’s house means immediate doom.  Also, talking about any hobby that involves “collecting” is strictly prohibited and will result in the woman telling the player “Actually, I have a boyfriend” even though she doesn’t.

Level 2: The First Date

The player must take the woman to a dining location that does not involve super sizing anything.  Bonus points are available if the player manages to get the woman to laugh with him and not at him.

Level 3: Sealing The Deal

The player must somehow convince the woman that he lives on his own but she cannot actually see his place.  Acceptable excuses include: “I’m getting it painted right now” and “I’m having solar panels put in because the Earth is important or something” but not “I’m a failure and live with my parents and man do I hate doing chores.”  If the player makes it to her place and gets the woman to remove at least one article of clothing (coat does not count) then the player wins.

I think this game is needed way more than one that lets a dude yell out war commands to direct his army.

Maybe if the guys are lucky the next version will include something about getting out of their parent’s house and taking the heating pad out of their car.

(If you want to read some crap about me, then please head over to Cleveland’s A Plum, where I am the Featured Blogger today.  It’s my first interview!  Suck it Brad Pitt.)

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are you busy Thursday night?

Since I’m getting married sometime in the next year or so, I am obviously subjected to all the jokes that come with it.  You know, the “It was nice knowing Single Chris” and the “Your life is over now” variety.

There are going to be some down sides to getting married, but one thing I absolutely won’t miss about being single is dating.

Dating is the worst.

It is fucking terrible and there is nothing good about it.

And I’m not even talking about the actual date, because dating begins all the way back when you first spot that woman with such a great smile that it makes you think, “No way she was looking at me, is there someone behind me?”

Once you get The Look, dating has officially begun.

You think about what to say to her.  You rack your tiny brain for days, begging it to come up with something clever to say to her, instead of thinking about why Rafael is the best ninja turtle.

If you’re lucky, you think of something and she accepts the offer of An Evening With You.

After that you spend the next days before the date wondering why she is dumb enough to want to date you and how you can prolong that effect until it is too late and she has no choice but to become your girlfriend.

Oh, and you also stress the fuck out about where you’re going to take her, because you can’t simply ask her where she’d like to go.  You are The Man, and being The Man means you now have to act like you know things about restaurants that don’t have two-for-one beer specials and Photo Hunt.

Finally, after asking your friends where you should go and picking her up and trying to only look at her boobs when she won’t notice, you must endure being in public together.

Being in public together is terrible because everyone is watching.

Everyone knows that you two are on a date and they are watching you fumble over your story about how smoking pot actually improves your driving abilities.

If all goes well and you somehow make it through Public Time without wanting to run away, die or punch yourself for picking someone so shitty to spend time with, then at the end of the night you might get a kiss and a “Thanks, I had a really good time.”

Of course, on your way back to your apartment, even though she said it was “a really good time” you analyze every fucking second of the night and ponder when you should call her next and if she’ll even answer and why the hell did I tell her I don’t always wear clean socks???

After all of that, if nothing clicks and you don’t see the woman again, you repeat the process.

Only this time maybe you go for someone a little more slutty, so at least you can get something worthwhile out of the date.

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mood music

It’s no secret that I’m a big old school Madonna fan.

Not the new stuff, just the stuff that was awesome and maybe makes me want to dance like a drunk kid at his senior prom when he finds out his date isn’t wearing any underwear.

Today I was listening to one of my favorites, “Open Your Heart,” when I realized something: the song is basically a stalkers anthem.

If I was a stalker, which I’m not (but please stop wearing those pants every Tuesday, I don’t like them), I would definitely listen to this song while I was lusting/considering murdering the subject of my Unacceptable Attention.

Just look at the lyrics.

I see you on the street and you walk on by
You make me wanna hang my head down and cry
If you gave me half the chance you’d see
My desire burning inside of me

If anyone ever tells you they have a “desire burning inside of them,” it is Not A Good Thing. If that problem can’t be solved with Tums and a Good Nights Rest, then it’s time to consider police protection.

I follow you around but you can’t see
You’re too wrapped up in yourself to notice
So you choose to look the other way
Well, I’ve got something to say

Right.

If someone doesn’t notice another person following them around, it’s usually because that person is hiding. And if they’re hiding that means they’re probably up to no good. Or maybe they’re ugly.

Either way it’s not someone you want anything to do with.

Don’t try to run I can keep up with you
Nothing can stop me from tryin’

Now it’s on.

The person is putting it all out there. If you’re being stalked by a marathon runner, I guess you’re pretty much fucked. Pun intended.

Open your heart to me, baby
I’ll hold the lock and you hold the key
Open your heart to me, darlin’
I’ll give you love if you, you turn the key

I don’t know about you, but “open your heart” sounds pretty gruesome to me.

I’m sure all the stalkers are thinking, “Look, it’s no big deal! I’m just gonna bash your skull in with this brick and then pull your heart out of your chest. Toughen up for god’s sake!”

But I’d rather keep my heart in chest.

Madonna has really blessed every stalker out there with something special to listen to.

A little song, a little dance and a lot of creepy staring.

It’s beautiful.

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