Tag: ugh

Me? Single? Yes, how did you know?

So, attempting to scrounge up dates is the worst. It’s almost as bad as actually going on them! UGH.

Anyhoo, in these modern times, online date trolling seems to be the only marginally-effective avenue for meeting potential mates. So, I give it the old college try. Have met a few nice fellows, though thus far all of the friend-zone variety. I’ve also had some good online chats. Such as this…

Me: Oh, what are you studying?

Him: Interior design and architecture. I just finished my first year. [Ed. note: This is adult education. He is not a 19-year-old. I’m not insane] Five more to go.

Me: That’s a lot of school just to karate-chop pillows and throw a bunch of tchotchkes around.

Him: But one major is a B.A. and the other is a B.S.

Me: Bachelor of Arts & Bachelor of Slipcovers?

Someone really needs to explain to me again why I remain single…

Quote of the Day

The Hairpin posted a link to a site featuring a cringe-inducing collection of preciously curated photos of “what would you take with you as you escaped a burning house?” The participants all took this as an opportunity to present their extremely rarefied sensibilities (the complete works of jane austen), esoteric collections (Beach Boys Greatest lp – yes, LP – of course), studiously exotic and expensive material goods (Leica D-Lux 4), easily replaced items sold at Rite-Aid (l’oreal voluminous million lashes) and eye-rollingly faux-spiritual gewgaws (A brass bell from India that rings pure and true).

Hand cream, frying pan and a jar filled with rocks. Uh-huh, yeah - right.

The consensus among the commenters was that there was a decided dearth of things one would actually take from a burning house: family members, pets and external hard drive and/or laptop. And maybe keys and a phone, if you’re super-organized. The other consensus was that the folks who posted the lists were insufferable.

But maevemalone hit the nail on the head with this comment. Every cat owner will agree…

Trying to catch my cat would probably end with me being found as a pile of ashes under my bed, with a handful of singed cat hair in my fingertips. She’d survive somehow, of course.

But to be honest – isn’t that how we’d want it? Also, be sure to read the original post. The comments are hilarious (including mine, obv).

“Clean up on the depressing aisle!”

“Hi, I need some laxative, denture adhesive, home pregnancy tests, analgesic suppositories, stale off-brand cookies and vaginal deodorant – and I don’t want to spend a lot of money…”

“Right this way, sir…”