That's what she said
The girl who wouldn’t go, Part 1
Eight months ago I received an email from a girl on the dating site OKCupid.com.
“Nice mustache.” she stated succinctly.
Online dating, much like singing along to Hannah Montana, can be fun, but is nothing to be proud of. I always felt a twinge of guilt while browsing the online meat markets for potential mates. However, never one to let a little guilt stop me, I began an email repertoire with Blondie2847.
Blondie lived in Athens where she worked as a teacher. I’m sure there were many more details discussed, but currently that is all I remember.
I assumed our online banter was harmless flirting due to the 80 miles of SR316 separating us — While some people may be willing to cross continents in their search of true love, my horizons are somewhat less substantial. I like to keep things within walking distance.
Undeterred, Blondie told me she would be staying with a friend at GA Tech the next weekend and asked if I would like to meet while she is in town. I like to keep my weekends full of crazy drunken shanangins, which typically do not fit the format of ‘first date’, but I reluctantly agreed to dinner Saturday night.
I put on my nicest Mossimo ensemble fresh from Target and headed to GA Tech to pick Blondie up for our date. Saturday night on Tech’s campus was (not surprisingly) very quiet. I felt kind of creepy waiting outside college dorms to meet a girl, but she assured me she was 23, and I didn’t see Chris Hansen lurking in the shadows anywhere.
"Stay away from my McNuggets!"
Unfortunately, Blondie was either A) a photohop expert or B) some kind of super hero with photogentic powers, because in real life she was definitely C) overweight.
As I thought back to the dozens of pictures I saw online I couldn’t remember one full body shot.
Curse my unfettered optimism! I never suspected her pictures were from the waist up because she resembled a certain purple McDonaldland character. Nevertheless, I maintained an upbeat attitude cheerfully introduced myself.
Blondie didn’t talk much, and by ‘much’ I mean at all. I was dating a mime, except without the clever exaggerated gestures. This mime just sat with her arms crossed and responded to my questions with slight nods. The silence of the car ride was so unsettling that I would have given anything for a vapid sorority chatterbox to talk my ear off. At dinner I was finally able to pull a few interesting stories out of her. Apparently, the last guy Blondie met online was a little weird. His whole house smelled of shit — because it was covered in shit. He owned twelve different monkeys that were not friendly or house trained. Blondie recounted her experience fleeing from the house as the chivalrous suitor beat the monkeys back from the door. Then, with a brief sigh she said, “He didn’t call me back,” and resumed her stoic demeanor for the remainder of the meal.
Stay tuned for Part 2
*I am only posting this now because I assume the statute of limitations
has passed - Blondie has moved on and will never, ever read this.
What Tommy Brokaw should have asked…
"I can see the presidency from my house."
Questions I wish they asked in the debate:
- Who would win in an underwater fight, Aquaman or Spiderman? Why?
- Why do fat people get handicapped parking? Shouldn’t they be encouraged to walk? Would you support fat peopole parking at the rear of every lot?
- To Sen. Obama: Would you rather do Bristol Palin or Meghan McCain? Why?
- What is your favorite ingredient in trail mix?
- If A implies B does that mean Not B implies Not A?
- If elected, will you use a presidential pardon to free O.J. Simpson from unjust persecution at the hands of racist police officers who are just out to get him because he is a successful black man?
- Do you believe Seal can fly? What does Heidi Klum see in him besides his horrible music/acne scars?
- If necessary, would you rather club a pengiun or baby seal?
- Can you shotgun a beer? Feel free to demonstrate.
- This term for long-handed gardening tool can also mean immoral pleasure seeker. Please remember to answer in the form of a question.
-
I agree with you on the questions, but the one about Seal is a little off. I think we need to find out what kind of game he has to get someone like that to marry him and have his kids.
-
eh - I’m just bitter about Kiss From a Rose. I always hated that song.
‘Whoops I sent it again!’
New in Labs: Stop sending mail you later regret
Sometimes I send messages I shouldn’t send. Like the time I told that girl I had a crush on her over text message. Or the time I sent that late night email to my ex-girlfriend that we should get back together. Gmail can’t always prevent you from sending messages you might later regret, but today we’re launching a new Labs feature I wrote called Mail Goggles which may help.
When you enable Mail Goggles, it will check that you’re really sure you want to send that late night Friday email. And what better way to check than by making you solve a few simple math problems after you click send to verify you’re in the right state of mind?
By default, Mail Goggles is only active late night on the weekend as that is the time you’re most likely to need it. Once enabled, you can adjust when it’s active in the General settings.
Hopefully Mail Goggles will prevent many of you out there from sending messages you wish you hadn’t. Like that late night memo — I mean mission statement — to the entire firm.
-
‘Power Ranger’ faces death penalty in yacht killings
Go-go Power Rangers indeed… -
This is good stuff. I wish this would have been invented awhile ago. I sent some stuff I wish I could have gotten back.
Wesblog 2008 Coed Costume Beer Pong Tournament Pro-am Race for the Cure
You are all invited to join us Friday, October 24th at 9:30 pm to compete in the Wesblog 2008 Coed Costume Beer Pong Tournament Pro-am Race for the Cure.
Like previous tournaments, each team of two must be coed — so grab your partner early or get stuck with Joey the myopic midget. Players will each contribute $5 to compete (If you are not in costume the entry fee is $10), and the total will be paid in full to the winners. I will supply most of the beer, but if your AA group tends to refer to you as a “problem drinker” please bring a reserve case for yourself.
In order to increase the speed of competition, reward the winners, and allow the losers plenty of playing time, the competition will be speed based. Instead of a double elimination tournament (which has an amazingly complicated bracket system after 5-10 beers), I will keep a single list of challengers. Each time a game is finished on any of the four tables the winners will continue play while the losers add their name to the challengers’ list. At exactly 12:00 am the team with the most total wins gets the cash prize and our jealous respect.
Show up any time, but play will start at 9:30 pm so arriving early may snag you some quick wins. For further discussion, the rules of beer pong, or if you would like to guarantee a starting position at 9:30, submit a comment with your team info — or at least send me an email letting me know you’d like to come so that I will have an idea of how many kegs to get.
Wesblog Rules
- Cups are arranged, 10 on a side, in pyramid formation, as shown.
- Three beers per side, evenly distributed.
- Players throw the ball across the court, trying to get the ball in a cup. When a ball lands in a cup, one player from that side must chug that cup, and it is removed from the play area. When both players on a team sink a cup, they get the balls back.
- Drinking is alternated. One player drinks the first cup, the other drinks the second, the first player drinks the third, and so on. Throwing can either be alternated or done two at a time. Some people think that throwing two at a time improves accuracy, but studies are inconclusive. It’s up to you and your partner.
- As soon as the ball touches anything, including a cup, it’s fair game to be grabbed. If it bounces in, great, but you’d better hope your opponents have no reflexes. Intentionally bouncing it in counts for two cups.
- Cups are restacked into pyramids when 6 cups and 3 cups remain on a side.
- When the last cup on a side is hit, the losing team has the opportunity to rebuttal. A rebuttal is make-it-take-it until either a shot is missed or the losing team manages to clear all of the winning team’s cups. If the rebuttal is successful both teams resume the game with three cups and one beer per side.
- Any cups left on the side of the winning team must be consumed by the losing team.
- If a player, for any reason whatsoever, drops a ball into a cup on his own side, he must drink it. Additionally, his teammate has the right to smack him on the head for being such a dumbass. There can be no exceptions to this rule.
- If the ball is still spinning in the cup, only girls can blow it out. If the ball gets wet, though, then it is declared in the cup.
- The Matt Bracwell Rule: you must finish your drink before you are allowed to shoot.
- Winning five games in a row qualifies you as a dynasty. This has absolutely no effect, but it is cool to say.
-
I just recently played beer pong. I think that it
ll be some time before I do again. Almost got in a fight over the rules. -
The wesblog rules are the rules set out in the New Testament. We used to play by the Old Testament rules, but then Wes flipped a table. And Ye, blowing was no longer allowed.
I’ll take three!
Matches your gold teeth (Or yellow teeth if you are cheap and not very hygenic)
How do you make one of the world’s most stolen gadgets, well, more enticing? If we’re talking about iPods, which we are, then you slap 24 and 18 karat white gold all over the newest models, and then send them out into the subways inside the pockets of the today’s filthy rich.
For a mere $644 for the Nano and $823 for the Touch, you too can slap this cutpurse bling beacon to your side and hope for the best. Good luck, and we hope the pickpockets of your community enjoy the playlist you’ve selected for them.
OMG UR MOUSE IZ DED
In cartoons, mouse catching is an art. No self-respecting animated cat would attempt to snatch a rodent without a flamethrower, an alarm clock, six or seven pulleys and a wheel of Swiss. Not to mention having a backup plan: the giant sledgehammer.
In real life, no one’s improved on the beautiful simplicity of a bone-splintering square of wood with some twisted wire on it. That is, until now.
The folks at Rentokil have put their best mad scientists of extermination to work and come up with the RADAR, or Rodent Activated Detention and Riddance Unit. Call it whatever you want, for mice it’s their own personal Mouseschwitz.
When a mouse enters the passageway, he activates a circuit that releases trap doors, blocking off both the entrances and trapping him in sealed chamber. Before Mickey can begin to shit his little black pants, a pressurized cylinder locks open and begins to fill the tunnel with carbon dioxide, asphyxiating the little guy in 45 seconds, or possibly longer if he knows yoga.
If you think that’s some James Bond shit, hold on to your drawers: the unit then sends you a text message letting you know the deed has been done. An actual text message, as in: OMG UR MOUSE IZ DED.
For extra fun, forward your text to PETA members.
A simultaneous text message goes to the Rentokil headquarters, which no doubt is situated on a black, craggy mountain in a choppy part of the ocean with perpetual thunder and lightning. They dispatch a couple of goons in a van to pick up the body. Seriously.
At this point I can only assume they strap the mouse to a tiny, red rocket and launch him toward the moon.
-
to quote my roomate: “Shut up! Is that thing for real? Does it seriously send text messages?! We should ask the exterminator for one of these.”
also, do you offer anything for roaches?
-
I would prefer a trap that sends a small cybernetic mouse back in time to kill the current pests’ ancestors.
-
as long as it sends me a text message declaring the mouse is dead, i’m in.
Loading ...
09/10/2008 at 1:17 pm Permalink
Dude, you totally ask for that to happen. Good stuff. Now you know what to expect from now on.