They set you up. They set you up with a date with disappointment. They couldn’t have possibly set a date with someone who you might find interesting (visually and/or intellectually) enough for a romantic conquest. They are just you’re closest friends and they only have four years of drunken discussion from you on the subject of dating possibilities. They were only with you through your three major break-ups and the matching analysis of each one. Not a single one of them could have managed to memorize over 2 billion qualities you positively need in a girlfriend/boyfriend/sex-slave that will end up being so far out of your league that you might as well be playing as official bench warmer for a peewee tee-ball team.
If you, dear reader, are stuck on a blind date with someone who happens to have that mentality, then you have a gambling problem and should stop making bets when you are drunk. On the other hand, you may have just pissed off some deities. Have you made any sacrifices to the wrong gods again?
But seriously, if you want to prevent further punishment, you need to find out what you have done and who you have wronged to deserve such a punishment. Have you been parking in your Wellness Center’s Director’s spot because they keep giving you annoying pamphlets about how gambling is an addiction? Did a drug bust recently go down, leaving your local pot head sober as a straight edge? Did you forget to cancel that joke subscription to YARF! and Furvert International like you told your roommate you would? Hmmmm? Be honest…
Next, you must right the wrongs! Apologize to your Heathen Gods and Goddesses and make the right sacrifices. (Dionysus gets alcohol. Hades, Satan and Loki want goats. The Evil Queen wants the heart of Snow White or a low-fat wild boar substitute.) Stop parking in the spot reserved for the Director of Wellness and Other Made-up Offices and start attending the wellness lectures aimed at drinking and gambling. (Maybe you can organize a trip to Vegas with the whole support group.) Buy off your local pot-head with Easy-Mac and Pixy Stix.
If you fail to do these two and all important steps, then your local pot-head might fail to with-hold current address from creepy men who constantly wring their wrists. Your Director of Departments that Need More Professional Sounding Names might fail to shut down her computer screen when a would-be stalker is present. (Gee, I wonder why she left your record up for the world to see.) Some people might even choose fire and brimstone.
(Or your friends could be telling you to shut the Hell up about Gloria/George/Gimpy the II. It could go either way, really.)
Stuff that was cut (Who knows, maybe this will become a regular thing):
“While your friends were busy looking for someone who could at least pretend to tolerate you for a little less than twenty dollars an hour, you were busy lamenting your lonely state and effectively repelling anyone who wasn’t brain-dead out of the bar you were currently dwelling. I take it back; Kenny, the Bar Dwelling Vegetable, just started crawling to the nearest exit. Okay, fine. He just blinked in a furious manner in what I hope was your direction, but anyone can see the man clearly wishes he could escape your fun-crushing spirit.
Poor Kenny.
Labels: catch me a catch, find me a find, matchmaker make me a match