Right. The OkCupid guy I messaged yesterday looked at my profile last night, and I just noticed he’s “either deleted or disabled his account.”
And the other guy just never answered.
Understood. I am a hideous idiot trollbeast. If you need me, I’ll be on a bridge demanding answers to riddles. (Except I’m dumb, so I probably don’t know the answers to riddles.)
Actually, I take that back — I’m clearly not hideous given the number of shady hoodrats and married guys who’ve messaged to offer a one-night-only impotence extravaganza in my vagina. So I’m at least hot enough to put a dick in. So it’s just smart guys who don’t dig me. So I’m just a moron. Excellent.
I know, I KNOW. It’s fine. Let me have my pity party and I’ll be back to self-love tomorrow. I mean, maybe, I don’t know — I probably suck at clairvoyance as well.
I’m pretty good at martinis, though. I’ll get on that when I get home.
Google News headline: “It’s unclear whether yearly pelvic exam is necessary, task force says”
Subhead/lead: “The annual pelvic exam is uncomfortable, invasive – and might not be necessary for healthy women. Or is it? There isn’t a clear answer.”
Well. Saved you a click, then. The full article likely explains both sides, but I don’t need to know details of “There isn’t a clear answer.” I’m just gonna keep being reassured annually that my business is up to code as long as insurance will let me, because symptoms of lady cancer are, like, being tired and getting your period, so…yeah. I’ll just continue being appraised on the annual, thanks.
Also, maybe I’m weird, but I don’t find the exam that uncomfortable or invasive. Sure, a stranger is in your bits, so that’s never ideal. But I’d rather be uncomfortable talking about the weather while someone is penetrating me once a year than be uncomfortable because I have cancer.
P.S. How do I become a part of a Pelvic Task Force? I enjoy pelvic tasks.
I just heard “Livin’ on a Prayer” on my Internet radio at work, and even though actually dancing on my desk is frowned upon, there was some serious gyrating and hair tossing in my head, and my desk chair got the ride of its life.
I was going to kick off my new, resumé-appropriate blog with a review of Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates, which AMC Theaters offered me free passes to see tonight.
BUT…goddammit, it was fucking funny. And I COULD write a clean review, but…fucking funny!
I don’t laugh a lot at romantic comedies — the jokes are generally dumb and contrived. But I snort-laughed several times during this one, and want to see it again just to hear the lines I missed while my fellow moviegoers were laughing their faces off.
Adam Devine was actually amusing, which I’ve never thought before. I now have an official ladycrush on Aubrey Plaza. Zac Efron was funny and sweet, and takes his shirt off if that’s your deal (pass). And y’all know I’d sit and watch Anna Kendrick read a damn newspaper, so I was pretty psyched to see her jump up and dance on a table because Rihanna is “my jam.” #SpiritAnimal
It’s also nice that the movie’s self-aware enough to at one point give a quick nod to how heavily they’ve borrowed from Wedding Crashers.
I’m not all “ZOMG, GO!” but I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. It’s a solid date movie (if, unlike me, you’re capable of human interaction). Silly, fun, and very cute.
Let the record show, for all my whinging about guys on OkCupid who only write “Hi” in their first message, now I’M trying to write to a man and can’t think of a damn thing to say.
This is supposed to be easier for women, right? Just be myself? Are you insane?! Myself is an ASSHOLE, you guys. I have NO game.
“Good day, sir. You seem cute and literate, like I could eventually handle wriggling around on top of you without hating myself after. But first let’s talk and meet for coffee and then you tell me I’m funny and then nudity? It won’t take long — I probably want it more than you do. Just don’t say anything stupid.”
Self-esteem crisis over. Let’s go get me under someone… Under. Over. Sideways with… Not really caring at this point. The only time I’ve ever hated men is when I realized how integral you are to really good sex. I can make myself come, and it’s…fine. It’s just WAY better when you people do it. Curse y’all for being so much fun to play with.
P.S. Yes, obviously, I’d prefer the vanilla’d-down Glee version of this song. Shut up. I loved Emma and wanted to ride Mr. Schue like a bike. I want his hand on my tummy, and to pull him on top of me by that tie. UNF.