Swallowed Hole

About a month ago, I received a message from someone on the dating website that just said, “FAKE!” Since I do mention video games, greasy food, and graphic novels, I guess I could see how someone could think I’m actually an overweight teenage boy, but I brushed the message off as some sorry attempt to get me to reply by ruffling my feathers.

That being said, I didn’t respond, although perhaps I should have because I believe he reported me to the site and then my profile was deactivated for several weeks. Flattering? Sure. Irritating? Definitely, especially since I was finally, after 6 months, talking to someone that I was considering meeting in person. Luckily, I drank too much whiskey one night while I was on vacation and sent the website five irate emails (I couldn’t decide which “reason” to select, so I picked the five most appropriate ones). One of those emails must have worked because, as of yesterday, my profile is back up and running. Moral of the story? Being drunk and sloppy makes you a real person.

This guy thought long and hard about what would be the best pick-up line to send a girl on an online dating website and this was what he came up with:

“I would get on my knees in front of a guy and obey U cause U are so delicious looking :-)”

Just think about what it means for a second …

yeah.

My latest concern is that I’m going bald. That’s it.

Remember that man that died at my sim’s campaign fundraiser? Well, he never turned into a ghost and disappeared, so he’s just a floating, solid sim in the living room with whom you cannot interact, so now I keep getting this message:

“You cannot enter Edit Town while a sim in your household is dying.”

So nobody can move out and I can’t progress the storyline and I have to start a whole new town. I AM SO ANGRY. WHAT A WASTE OF TIME.

In other news, my leg is fixed and I’m still playing The Sims excessively.

My sims just had twins when it wasn’t the right time and a man died at their campaign fundraiser and ruined it (#WTFsorude), so I decided to take a break from my stressful night to blog.

Currently, my right leg is so swollen from sunburn that I can’t walk on it or fit it into any pants besides my baggy bootcuts, hence the massive amount of Sims 3 Pets in my life.* Also, the leg looks like an extremely shiny tomato and I haven’t shaved it since the sunburn so, if you get close enough, it has tiny little hairs growing through the puffy red shine. So it’s actually way grosser than a tomato. ALSO, I don’t know why it’s only my right leg; who knows, maybe that one’s the weaker one.

Anyway, you would think this whole unfortunate situation would be a field day for my hypochondria, but I’m relatively calm about the whole thing, aside from last night when I moved a little and I was sure I’d ripped the skin clear off my shin, that’s how SEVERE the pain was. But I felt my shin and it didn’t feel bloody or skinless and I was too tired to care that much. So for the most part I’ve just been dealing with this by popping IbuP 800’s and advancing my sims’ political careers between aloe applications.

I’ve recently been taking a DGAF approach in many areas of my life, which I think has done positive things for my hypochondria. It’s also done wonderful things for my dating life, believe it or not. In the past two weeks, I’ve had more drinks bought for me, more phone numbers given to me, and more phone number requests than I ever received throughout the entire year of 2011. Granted, none of it is ever going anywhere serious because my vacation is going to be over in a week or two, but it’s been fun.

So, single ladies, put away your heels. Wear your cutest going-out outfit with flats and the oldest bra you have because it’s comfortable. Throw away your fake eyelashes and just wear mascara. Eat the messiest burger on the menu (and eat ALL of it); hopefully you’ll gain five or ten lbs. Have the drink with the highest alcohol content at noon if that’s what you want (or have two). Because none of it really matters unless you’re having fun.

I know that once school starts, I’ll probably lose touch with this sense of freedom and I’ll be back with more of my neurotic rants, which is probably good, since nobody can really be doing exactly what they want all the time. That would just be insanity. Like, anarchy or YOLO or satanism or something.

But for now? For now I’ll be enjoying my coffee, DGAF. (Sorry. I couldn’t resist.)

* JK I play The Sims 3 Pets all the time, even when I can walk and wear skinny jeans.

Sometimes when I’m driving home and I hit an unexpected speed bump or pothole, I’ll worry that maybe I hit a small animal, or even a person, and didn’t realize it. Then I will have the worst anxiety EVER until I either (a) take a Xanax at home and fall asleep or (b) drive back to check that it was only an unexpected speed bump or pothole. So far, it’s always been an unexpected speed bump or pothole, but I can’t seem to ever fully convince myself of that to relieve the anxiety because I know that the one time that I do, it’ll actually be someone’s kitten or puppy or child that was playing in the street at 12:30am.

That story sort of relates to today, when Nancy (my mother) came home from work with a rolled ankle. This threw me into a tizzy and I started raising my voice at her when she was walking on it, for which she proceeded to reprimand me, saying only, “Well, I have to go to the bathroom, Katy.” [Good point, Nancy. Good point.]

Then, as I was leaving the house to go to dinner (not with a dude from the online dating world, because we all know how well that’s going), I made sure that she was fed, that all the dishes had been done, that she had both cigarettes and ashtray (as well as remote control) on the table next to her, and that her cell phone was plugged in, charging, and ready to be used, should she fall down and not be able to get up. The last thing I said to her before I left the house was, “Make sure you take the cell phone with you if you get up for anything, even if you need to get a glass of water. I love you, goodbye.” Nancy’s reply? “Help me! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” Alas, I am my mother’s daughter.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when I returned home and Nancy was in her bedroom, asleep, while the cell phone lay exactly where I left it, plugged in and ready to be used in case of an old-person emergency like falling down and not being able to get up. You would think I’d be okay with this, relieved that she made it to her bedroom without any calamities that called for the use of a cell phone, but am I? Oh no. I’m going to spend the rest of the night worrying that, should something like this occur in the future, she won’t follow my advice and have a cell phone with her and I’ll receive a call in the middle of the night [GOD FORBID] saying that Nancy was found in her house, having fallen and been unable to get up, half-starved and crying and all alone.

I may or may not be looking up the price of the Philips Lifeline right now. Hey, I gave her the chance of being cool and just having a cell phone like everyone else; I’m sorry it had to come to this.

PS: I don’t know about kittens or puppies or childrens that play in the street at 12:30am anymore, but you probably shouldn’t let me near them since I’m very obviously kind of nuts.

Soooo, I’ve recently put myself back on the online dating market. Yes, I may have sworn it off two years ago after my date with too-sweet, loves-his-mom-enough-to-talk-about-her-through-75%-of-the-date’s-conversation, leather-beret, ponytail (not-for-me,-obvs) guy. But I feel like the Great Whiskey Mistake/26^th-birthday-party-breakup fiasco of 2012 justifies a little bit of online ego boosting. Should I hyphenate more things in this-paragraph? I think so.

Needless to say, I’m already disappointed. I feel like math (especially algorithms) cannot possibly play a crucial role in the amount of chemistry that two people will have in real life. Yes, you and I match by 78% (that’s OVER ¾ for those of you who are bad at math, like me) and yet you sent me this message:

“KT** who loooved being fully engrossed in The Time Traveler’s Wife replies “VERY Selectively”? Hmmm, I just read over your profile and have NO IDEA why you’re this picky! 

Haha, actually I wanted to make sure you have a good sense of humor and don’t take yourself too seriously. :)…”

Okay, my friend. I have some suggestions:

1. If you read my entire profile (and you probably haven’t, so I’m not blaming this on you, except maybe I am because you should have), then you would know that I love literature. Bashing one of my favorite books in the first paragraph of a message to me is a definite no-no.

2. Have you read The Time Traveler’s Wife? I think not. If you had, you would realize that it is much more beautiful and well-written than whatever bastardized Nicholas-Sparks-tragic-love-story movie version was made of it. I’m hyphenating ridiculous things again and I’m sorry; this doesn’t happen often. Maybe I’m just too angry.

3. Also, you asshole, YOU are the reason why I reply selectively. Don’t turn this around on me for having a bad sense of humor. I have a great sense of humor. That’s why I’m laughing at you.

Anyway, I don’t think I’m that great and I’m soooooo sorry it didn’t work out with me and this aforementioned guy who I never messaged back, but I definitely think this demonstrates the holes that happen with algorithms. Had I received this message before I filled out any of the random questions, I would have automatically rated myself with this guy as a 40% or less match. Yes, both of us may have answered “No” on the “Do you enjoy meaningless sex?” question, but it doesn’t mean that we’re a match made in heaven. The only thing I can hope for is a man who answered enough questions, in the right order, honestly/sarcastically enough that he could probably handle me on a date. C’est la vie, 2012. C’est la vie.

Side note before I sign out, but every time a man messages me and tells me I have a great smile, I imagine some dude sitting in front of the computer, in his underwear, saying, “DAAAAAMN! Look at tha grill on that ho! She musta been to tha orthodontist or some shit.” I don’t know why.

**My SN removed so you can’t stalk me on my dating website.