Another One Bites the Dust

I've mentioned before that I've thrown myself back into the world of internet dating. And, for you long time readers, you know that nothing good comes from my dates...well, not good for me, great for y'all because you get to laugh at my misfortune (which I wouldn't have any other way) and if you have a significant other, it makes you look at them and thank the baby Jesus that you're not me.

I went out with this guy last Thursday and he seemed nice enough, but there really wasn't any chemistry. There were no butterflies, no hoping he kissed me at the end of the night and not really any laughing...and y'all know me, there has to be laughing. Oh, and one important factor that I can't leave out...in his profile picture he had a goatee, we talked on the phone a couple of times and I agreed to go out with him then he dropped the bomb on me...I recently switched jobs and the plant I work in now doesn't allow beards so now I have a...wait for it...MUSTACHE! Yes, this man has a stand alone. What could I do, I had already agreed to go out with him, I couldn't say, "Sorry, a womb broom is a deal breaker." (I'm not totally shallow.) I did make the comment that only certain people could pull off the stand alone...like Magnum P.I. or Sam Elliott or Paw Paw...the rest of the world either looks ridiculous or like a porn star. When we met at the restaurant he looked at me and asked, "So, what do you think of the stand alone." To which I replied..."Well, it's a little porny." SERIOUSLY, WHO HAS A STAND ALONE!

I talked to my mom and several friends about it and said, "I don't know if I'm going to go out with him again." And every single one of them said, "Mandy, you can't make a decision after one date, you need to go out with him at least one more time." And my answer would always be the same..."But he has a womb broom!" And they all said, "You can probably convince him to shave it off." So, I agree to go see a band that one of his friends is in this Saturday...that was before last nights conversation.

Somehow the conversation turned to dogs, I was probably talking about Rogen or something.

Him: I used to train dogs.
Me: Oh really?
Him: Yeah, I used to train pitbulls how to fight.
Me: Excuse me?
Him: Yeah.
Me: That is probably one of the most horrible things I've ever heard.
Him: What? Why? I was just a kid.
Me: Define kid.
Him: 16-21
Me: That's hardly a kid...you were old enough to know better.
Him: It's part of the culture.
Me: What culture?
Him: You know.
(He's half hispanic, that's the only thing I can figure out with the whole culture argument.)
Me: I don't give a fuck, it's wrong.
Him: It's not like we were Michael Vick and drowning dogs in the back.
At this point, I'm sitting with my mouth hanging open...I was in such disbelief that I couldn't even form words.
Him: Are you still there?
Me: Yeah, I just can't believe you trained dogs to fight.
Him: It's no big deal...it's just a sport, like boxing.
Me: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME! People who make pitbulls fight are the lowest form of human beings. And this whole comparing the dogs to boxers is ridiculous...Boxers have free will, if they don't want to fight, they don't have to. Nothing is going to happen to them if they say no to a fight. If a dog does bad in a fight, the owner kills them. Those people are pieces of shit!
Him: Hey, I had a friend who got 10 years probation and then they put his dog to sleep.
Me: THEY SHOULD HAVE PUT THAT BASTARD TO SLEEP...OR BETTER YET, PUT HIM IN THE RING WITH A COUPLE OF THE DOGS THAT YOU BASTARDS TRAINED.
Him: It's in my past, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not going to apologize to you for something I did over 20 years ago.
Me: I'M NOT ASKING YOU TO APOLOGIZE TO ME, WHAT BOTHERS ME IS THAT YOU DON'T SEEM TO REGRET DOING IT OR HAVE ANY REMORSE.
Him: Why should I, do you regret or feel bad about things you did in the past?
Me: I've never intentionally harmed another living creature!
Him: Like I said, it's part of the culture.
Me: You know, female circumcisions are also acceptable in certain cultures...THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT RIGHT!
Him: Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?
Me: No, I really don't think I am...I'm very much a live and let live person with two exceptions...I don't' care what you do as long as it doesn't harm children or animals. AND YOU HARMED ANIMALS!
Him: I told you, I'm not apologizing.
Me: I gotta go.
Him: Okay, I'll call you tomorrow.
Me: Bye - Click.

I don't think I'm being ridiculous at all...if he thinks this is okay, what else does he think is okay?

Yeah, I really don't see me going out with that bastard again. Seriously, who thinks it's okay to fight dogs!

Just goes to show you...unless you're Magnum P.I. or Paw Paw you should never trust someone with a stand alone, they're either porn stars, pedos or dog fighters.

Until next time...

Mandy

I Received an Invitation for a Pity Party, and I RSVP'ed YES!

Tuesday night, I sat down to watch The Biggest Loser. This is the first season I've ever watched of this program, but it gets me every episode. My eyes end up misting at least once every show, but Tuesday night was ridiculous...I had a total emotional meltdown.

Here's how it went...

I was sitting on my couch, eating tamales watching The Biggest Loser...apparently, I missed that O'Neal's brother passed away sometime during the taping of the show. During the last chance workout, he started to flip the eff out, beating on a machine, nearly hitting Jillian and he started crying uncontrollably. So, of course, I start crying...and I don't mean just misting up and one single tear rolls down my cheek, I'm talking sobbing, snotting, boo hoo crying. Then I start thinking, these people are up off their asses losing 100+ pounds, what's wrong with me, why can't I motivate myself to do something...I don't even like getting up off butt to walk The Wonder Pup.

Then it morphs into...

My friends suck! I'm always there for them. They call, I come...I don't have anyone that would just come over if I was sad. (Nevermind the fact that most of them have kids and can't just drop everything and drive to my house.) Why am I always the one that makes sacrifices for them? No one cares. *Sob, snot, boo hoo*

And then that morphs into...

No one is ever going to love me. I'm going to be old and alone! I might as well buy 57 cats, so I can go ahead and become that crazy cat lady that everyone already thinks I'm going to become...maybe I should buy a couple of muumuus also. I'm going to die in this tiny shoe box of an apartment, and no one will even realize it until the stench of my rotting corpse floats out onto my balcony. And then when they find me, I won't even be able to have an open casket because Rogen and the 57 cats will have eaten my face because they were hungry. *Sob, snot, boo hoo*

So, I decided to take a shower and when I looked in the mirror I thought, "I am old and alone...look at all the gray hair, and is that crows feet!?!?!? Oh my God!" *Sob, snot, boo hoo*

It was so pitiful, I was annoying myself. Once I got out of the shower, I called my friend Kathryn and she talked me off the ledge. She assured me she has gone through the same thing, so that made me feel a little less nutty.

I really think it had more to do with PMS rearing it's ugly head.

Until next time...

Mandy