Dear Guy at the Back East Bar

First of all, let's be candid here. No room for second-guessing or supposition. I'm going to tell you exactly what's up so you don't make the same stupid mistakes next time. Ready?

Sending your married female friend to our table to ask if one of us would dance with you? Strike one. Big strike one. You know what that tells us? That you are a chicken. And neither me nor my friends want to dance with or pitterpat with a chicken.

Your married female friend comes back and shows us a picture of you with your shirt off. Now will we dance with you? No. You know why? It doesn't matter how hot you are if you are a big fat wimp. Wimpyness trumps hotness. Strike two.

"Listen, my friend has just gone through a terrible divorce. His self-esteem is low. Will you dance with him?" Do not make excuses for your wussiness. And especially, do not send your guy friend over to make excuses for your wussiness. We do not want to pitydance you. Nor do you want to be pitydanced. Am I right? Strike three.

Had you come over yourself, you might have had a chance after the first strike. But now, you are at strike three. My friends and I are signing our receipts. And you very quickly and pathetically have lost your chance. Not a big deal. Just an opportunity for learning. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. Send a little testosterone through your veins and next time you are out, go ask that lovely girl to dance (all by yourself). You can do it. A little self-confidence goes a long, long way.

On a side note, today is day nine of my six months of no dating. I'm quite disinterested in anything else. It's a good place to be.

Ode to the Creepies

I love creepy people. In fact, immediately after an interaction with a creepy person, I think how much I am going to enjoy writing about them later. Hey, creepy guy... You make my life richer and more enjoyable. And you give me perspective on how normal my friends actually are.

So, the guy that bagged my groceries today. Total creeper. He was pretty bold.

Dear Creepy Bagger at King Soopers,

You were attempting to make pretty intense eye contact with me today. But I, wisely, faked like I was watching my purchases ring up on the computer. You immediately sent a sense of gooey ickyness down my spine. You, for some reason, assumed that I was from Minnesota. And I am not. So when you asked me if I was from Minnesota, I said, "... no." I really just wanted you to stop talking to me. Then you asked me if I was making Italian food. Let's see... ricotta, shells, cheese, pasta sauce, sausage... uhhh.... you genius. Stop talking. I can picture you drooling. I'm not even looking at you.

Why is it only the icky guys have the guts to talk to the single girl using the little basket to shop? Hello! I am using a basket because I AM NOT HAVING DINNER WITH ANYONE. I don't need a ton of food. I should probably think twice about shopping at the grocery store centrally located in family-ville. Find me a good tomato or ask me where you can find the lemon juice. I will take you over there and you can ask me out on a date. It will be perfect.

Or you could do like all the hot single guys in the grocery store do... go pick up a six-pack of beer, a loaf of bread, and four pounds of roast beef.

Curious Mr. PigNose

I noticed you today, Mr. PigNose. You were driving the car behind me. The tip of your nose is higher than the septum... I think that's the right word... you know - where your nose connects above your lip. You don't have a big fat piggy nose. You have a slender piggy nose and defined cheekbones. And you totally grossed me out today. You were snacking. You were munching on some sort of snack item. And chewing with your mouth open. And licking your fingers and smacking.

I was so morbidly curious that I kept watching you. And you didn't stop. You were ravenous. You kept reaching in for more. Smacking and licking. My stomach began to turn and still I didn't look away. I fixed my peripheral vision on the car in front of me so I could make a quick getaway as soon as the light turned green. But while the light was red, I was your very own personal captive audience. You disgusted me.

You had a wedding ring, I think. I wonder if your wife notices this about you. Does it disgust her, too? Has she hid her disdain for years? I am curious as to whether she has thought to mention it to you. Or perhaps she's let it boil in her veins for years and perhaps she is considering some counseling. I wonder if your children have slender piggy noses and terrible snacking manners as well. Who is your mother? Didn't she advise you to chew with your mouth shut? Especially considering the shape of your ugly pig nose?

I daydreamed about putting my car into park and running back to your car and throwing open your door and grabbing your snacks and shoving them into my mouth as crumbs fell to the asphalt below and smacking and causing the snacks to become cheesy saliva mush as I laughed uproariously amidst Saturday afternoon traffic.

Green light. Goodbye Mr. PigNose.

Gross and Stupid David Caruso

Dear David Caruso,

I watched your show today. I don't even know the name of it. I got home late and fixed a super fast dinner and just sat down to chill for a minute, so I figured, 'What's the harm of watching this show. I know... I really hate you, David Caruso. But it's only a minute or two.' A few years ago when I was addicted to television, I used to watch your show all the time. And when I did, I remembered thinking, 'Wow. David Caruso really sucks as an actor. Either that, or his characters are all written real shitty. Either that or the writers are COMPELLED to write really shitty characters for him because he can't do anything but crappy suck acting.'

So, anyway... benefit of the doubt... I watch your show. You were in a holding room with someone you had arrested for MURDER. And you said, "We apprehended Carlos Agaba today." And she said, "So, are you going to let me go?" WHY DID YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT, DAVID CARUSO? You suck so bad. Could you possibly have any other expression on your face? Could you vary your vocal inflection at all from its present monotony? You are terrible. And all the other actors on your show are good actors. Why do you suck so bad? And do you think you are really good? Your characters seem pompous and arrogant, so I believe that you also are pompous and arrogant. Maybe you aren't! Maybe you are a really nice person and the fact that you can make yourself seem otherwise is proof that you are a good actor. But I don't believe it for a second. I think you suck. And when I talk to people in my daily life who have such a blank expression and irritating way of talking like you do, I walk away from them. And when I walk away from them, I think... 'God, I'm glad I'm not talking to them anymore. I wanted to kick that person in the head.'

Please do not watch this youtube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_sarYH0z948