If one more person tells me that dating is “a numbers game,” they are getting throat punched.
I don’t have a god damn clue what my “number” for this year is, but I guarantee it’s much higher than most homosapiens could hope for in this lifetime. (I’m talking about meeting new people and going on first dates, you perv!)
Frankly, when it comes to my experiences, the ratio of “What the Fuck’s?” is about 7:1 against “Oh, He Was a Nice Guy’s.” So as number games go…. I’m going to start buying lottery tickets. I think I get better odds.
I’m getting bored with cliché dating. Dinner, drinks, vandalizing his ex’s house, yadda yadda yadda… So I’m making a list of “Extreme Dates.”
You know…ideas to really test the balls on these dummies. So far my rough draft of ideas includes Happy Gilmore Batting Cage Wars, White Walkers of East 4th Street and a Wal-Mart Death Race. I’ll get back to you on these as soon as possible. I want to do a few test runs so that I can give value-added guidelines. (Time to go Tinder fishing… muahahaha).
**East 4th Street in Reno is known to be full of meth motels and dirty, dirty hookers. You’re bat-shit crazy to be hanging out anywhere near there after dark.**
I’ve discovered the true secret to successfully flossing your teeth every day.
- Find a hot dentist.
- Find a hot dentist who will write some hardcore, badass prescriptions for you.
- Find a hot dentist who tells you very dirty, inappropriate jokes when he thinks the Halcion has taken effect.
For the record, the Halcion had ZERO effect on me, and I remember everything……
My dentist, Dr. Pete does all of this.
I have to consciously engage every ounce of self-control to keep from making Freudian comments during my check ups.
Buuut I’m pretty sure everyone knows that it’s only a matter of time before “Dr. Pete, you can put whatever you want in my mouth” escapes from my face.
I signed up for an online humor writing course. It’s hard. Like… hard. For my first assignment, I wrote a skit with Harry Potter talking to an AA group about his drug addictions. Something about spending countless nights at the Crazy Chimera Gentlemen’s Club, guzzling Butterbeers and doing lines of Euphoria Elixir off of the strippers’ asses.
I hope I get an ‘A’.
I say this with all of the love in my heart. For the last six weeks, you have been a depressed, unispired, emotional bitch-bag.
But good news! Two more days and it’s the Winter Solstice. Which means, that two more days and the shortest day of the year passes. Longer days and more daylight are on the way. Until then, I have stocked the house with loads of Vitamin D. I propose that we test the over-dosage limits. Who knows, we might end up with another blog worthy story about some hottie we met at Poison Control.
So come on, Darla. Come back. Get that swagger, girl. You know that confidence I’m talking about… The same confidence of someone with a nipple ring using a loofah.