You have no jurisDICKtion here.

This was a guy’s first message to me on OKCupid: “Hey I’m Tim. We don’t live overly far apart.”

That’s all he said.

Now, I don’t need a sonnet, by any means, but I feel like if the best you can do is, “We live in the same area,” we probably don’t have much in common, or you didn’t bother reading the rest of my profile after location.

I sent it to a friend, and her response was: “I like the idea that you are on the edge of his circumference of boning, near the limit of his jurisDICKtion. I’m now disappointed that he didn’t make those jokes, and that I did.”

“JurisDICKtion,” you guys. My friends are amazing.


Me: “This OKCupid profile can’t possibly be real. [link]”
Friend 1: “He has bodies in his basement. Lots of them.”
Friend 2: “That man looks like he collects ‘decorative’ knives. Also guns. I would wager he also has recently been in a fistfight, potentially over a sports-related incident.”

Who run the (small) world? GIRLS.

I’m running a 5K this weekend, and OKCupid just presented me with a match who, in one of his profile photos, is wearing a shirt from the running club that’s organizing the event. So I might be running with this dude.

Damn, world! Way to be small!

More on food shaming, moron food shaming.

It was almost fun to read this on a day when I’m going to go home and stress eat all the things, and frankly anyone who has a problem with that can go fuck themselves. I might even stop and get me that exact doughnut, because fuck you, that’s why.

Via Bust: Why Are We STILL So Obsessed with What Women Eat?20140729-172822-62902880.jpgThough I’ll admit a twisted pride in the fact that one time I inhaled such a large quantity of food in a restaurant that the server patted me on the back in admiration. You’re goddamn right I ate it. And it was amazing.

“We’re gathered here today to join this couple in Wholly Guacamole.”

Some friends and I discuss what we’re wearing to our ladies’ night dinner:

“You’re all married, so odds are slim you’ll be picking anyone up at a Mexican restaurant. I, on the other hand, have to come correct. It stands to reason I’d meet my soulmate over guacamole.”

Aaaand we’re done here.

The “gentlemanly” OKCupid guy made way too big a deal about the fact that I’m looking for “just friends” right now.

First off, jagoff, you saw my profile and started the conversation. You asked me about that part, so it’s not like you didn’t see it. And no, that does not mean “friends with benefits,” and fuck you for even asking during our FIRST conversation. You haven’t even met me — that photo I sent could be from 10 years and 100 lbs ago. (It’s not, I’m adorable, but that’s not the point.)

Second, don’t you know the Chris Rock bit? “You know what a [male] friend is to a woman? It’s like a dick in a glass case. ‘In case of emergency, break open glass.'”

I just need to make sure you’re not a moron, and then maybe, OK? I hate realizing guys are dumb after we get naked, it’s the worst! One time I found out a guy I’d hooked up with REALLY liked Larry the Cable Guy — like so much that he’d paid to see him in concert. I let someone see me naked who had also seen Larry the Cable Guy live. Never again, you guys. Never again.

If you’re smart and funny, know how to treat a lady, and are nice to restaurant servers, do you know how quickly I’ll let you bend me over furniture? (That’s the attitude of a “lady,” right? Don’t answer that…)

Whatever, dude, your loss. I almost pity the fool who’s under me when this tension gets released. You couldn’t handle it, anyway.

The Berenstain Bears and the Derivative Sadist

Remember the unfunny comedian from I dated briefly? The one who put a little too much “S” in his “S&M?”

He’s apparently on OKCupid, too, and just looked at my profile. Gah! See, this is why I’m glad I don’t have profile photos. Well, PART of why.

Surprising no one, his username on OKC is swiped from another (funnier) comedian’s bit. And what’s sad is, I’m probably the only woman on Earth who’d know that. Between the psychosis and the standup, I’m probably his soulmate. Damn shame about the terrible sex. (Kidding. He was also just an asshole.)

Food shame etiquette.

Friend: “I was out to dinner with a coworker and she took over 20 minutes to pick her meal, with lots of “I’ve been so bad this week!” thrown in for good measure. I mean, sure, I worry about what people are going to think what I order, but I internalize that shit. Inner monologue, bitch.”

Me: “Exactly. I keep my neuroses to myself and let them slowly destroy me. Um, it’s called manners?”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me.”

A friend sent me this Buzzfeed link — Here’s Why You Should See “Secretary” Before “Fifty Shades Of Grey” — and recommended that I see “Secretary” because she’d really enjoyed it.

My response: “Added to my Netflix queue! Also, given that it’s about S&M, I giggled a little when Netflix offered me the option to ‘Move to Top.’ (But then I did move to top, as is the proper order of things.)”