Feb 10, 2019

2018, The Year of Me (and a whole bunch of other shit in between)

In a nutshell, 2018 was like the day I found out Milli Vanilli were lip synchers - total fucking devastation. Like, I'm talking, I whipped my Sony Walkman across the room and sobbed to Blame it on the Rain for hours. No Milli, No Vanilli, I blame YOU for making me a believer. Dicks. 

On the other hand, there was also a lot of magic that happened last year. You know, the kind of magic like when you check your Domino's pizza tracker and you see that Jeff has left the store with your order...and then you get a knock on your door. Total. Fucking. Happiness. 

Let me explain. I realize that those two statements are quite polarizing but truth is I'm on my period, and on the brink of needing an exorcism, so stay with me here. 


I guess the best way of explaining it is breaking it down into different facets of a single, 30-something year old's yes i know I'm almost 40, fuckers. I know my girlfriends reading this are thinking it so I'm just gonna say it. life. I see life as broken into 4 main chapters: Love, Money, Health and Career. 

So let's get started shall we? 

Chapter 1. 
Love: I'd rather jam a fork in my eye. 

"I quit. I hope he gets eaten by a bear." Were the last words I spoke on the day I decided to quit dating in April, 2018. I believe that was the day I melted down and also had an inevitable awakening. (Screaming in my pillow helped.) And I'm so, so thankful that I met that cheap prick, because he led me to the best relationship of my life...with myself. For the record, I put out. 

For YEARS everyone told me that 'you need to love yourself first before anyone can love you' and I literally would roll my eyes and secretly hope the earth opened up and swallowed them and their dumb advice. But, as I was deleting Tinder, Match.com (by the way I want my money back), OK Cupid and E-Harmony (why were all my matches in Buffalo??), a true sense of peace came over me. I wasn't glued to my phone in hopes that someone would message me to validate all of the things I so desperately wanted to feel about myself anymore. I wanted someone to tell me I was pretty, yeah sure, I got that, but it was also followed by 'show me your tits' and a whole bunch of other vulgarities that Satan's children wrote. I also wanted someone to be consistent because the men in my life have never been consistent. Yup, I got consistency...until their next distraction came along. In a dating era of 'but there's always someone better,' it's easy to feel like you're just not good enough.  

I could sit here and list all of the shitty dates I've been on, but my therapist has encouraged me to not revisit trauma. Trauma like the time my date showed up wasted, with beer and drugs in his pocket then called his mom and made me talk to her, then told me he was poor and ordered 5lbs of chicken wings to go after dinner, stuck me with the bill, then when I politely told him he could use my washroom he came out naked wearing my pink slippers. Yeah, like that kind of trauma. But it's Sunday. It's God's day. So I won't go down that dark path.

I repeated the same pattern, over and over and over. For years. It actually felt like a lifetime. And I'm pretty sure that's where my 'what the fuck' wrinkle came from in my forehead. It's deep. God, it's deep. The other day, my mom asked me where I got the scar on my forehead from and I blacked out in rage. I responded 'What scar?' Knowing full well that she was referring to the deep wrinkle in the centre of my fucking forehead. But anyway, I digress. 

But then something amazing started happening as I wiped those apps off my phone....I started living. Doing things on my terms and not waiting for anyone else to complete my happiness. I started living my life in a way that I never had. As the months passed, I literally started feeling like a different person. Well, not a totally different person, I would still stab someone for the last slice of pizza, but you get my drift. 

I started making decisions in my life that weren't hinged on 'but it would be so much better with a partner.' Nope. Fuck that. I'm not waiting around for anyone. I'm living life on my own terms. I make my own damn ass happy. (Jesus, this sounds a lot like a clip from Oprah's Super-Soul Sunday.) 

After months of getting to love myself, I realized I was capable and worthy of making big decisions. Yup, I threw on my first pair of wedgie-free big-girl panties and it's so liberating to not have them jammed up your arse, making you think all weird and shit. So, me and my bad-ass self have decided to move to another country. And as I sit here and type that message out into the world, I feel like I'm going to throw up on my keyboard. Like the good kind of throw up - excitement throw up. 

I got my UK citizenship (and yes, I look like I've come off a 5-state killing spree in my UK passport photo), and I'll be buying my first one way ticket to Bonnie Scotland in 5 months. Am I scared? Shitless. Am I wondering if it's going to work out? Um, yeah. Am I so freaking excited that my heart is gonna burst? Yup. 

Guess what though? Excitement trumps fear. Every. Damn. Time. I have zero idea what's going to happen, how exactly it will all work out, but fuck it. Now's my time. And truthfully, I don't want a partner to fuck with my vibe at the moment. 

Also...
Ahem, ladies, have you seen a man in a kilt? I just tinkled in my panties. 

Join me next week when I write about money and how I have none. 

Love, 
Me


Jul 11, 2017

Are you there God? It's me....Nanners

Are you there God? It's me...Nanners. I know you're there and answering prayers since Uber Eats now delivers McDonald's, and you keep inventing vibrators. Either way, it's time you and me had a chat...Thanks for giving me all the good things and being a straight up G when it comes to the wicked awesome things in my life, like having a roof over my head, a job, stellar friends and family....but you really are shitting the bed when it comes to me losing inner thigh fat, growing hair out of my motherfucking neck, last week I thought I saw a Sasquatch heading into the mall right behind me, but nope it was my own motherfucking reflection. expensive Pizza Hut prices and lastly BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST...dating. You can't tell me you didn't see me screaming face down in my pillow the other night...(You may have also seen me accidentally swallow pieces of my plastic fork when they broke off on my plate at my company BBQ, but I wasn't trying to take my life, I was just super pumped to be eating a burger in the sunshine.)



I get it, you've been super swamped with granting Beyonce the miracle of childbirth not once, but twice now, and you've been super hard at work ensuring soft baked chocolate chip cookies are still a thing and that my residence is surrounded by Dairy Queens, but for the love of Christ....here's what I've been dealing with:

A first date that showed up with 2 tall cans of Heineken in his pocket so we could actively work on getting wasted on the way to dinner.



A first date that showed up and called his mom during dinner to tell her all about me then passed me the fucking phone so I could talk to her.


A first date that secretly ordered 3 pounds of chicken wings as his take out while I was in the washroom...and stuck me with the bill...which I didn't know existed until I was virtually tackled by the waiter in street for dining and dashing on a bill I also didn't know existed. "STOP, CITIZENS ARREST!!!  YOU DIDN'T PAY FOR YOUR 3 POUNDS OF CHICKEN WINGS."
At this point I looked over at him and exclaimed "what the fuck!?" but he was busy and quite wasted on the sidewalk threatening a stranger for looking in my direction. I should have darted into traffic, but lucky you, here I am writing this shit.
Okay so maybe this is me eating wings in bed after we had sex but God doesn't judge, amiright?

A guy I dated for a couple months, only to find out I was dating his alias and he had a completely different name, nationality, a gambling addiction AND wait for it..... A GIRLFRIEND!!! Well slap me around and call me Susan, if that's not luck, I don't know what is!

That's me at the local nut house. 

A guy that I went out with a few times who messaged me to tell me that he now has a girlfriend but..... if we could have sex just one more time, that would be awesome and she would never have to know! 
That's a selfie of me after applying Jergens tinted moisturizer and being really annoyed by that conversation.

***Sorry, I'm having a mild coronary writing about my love life which as you can see is shaping up to be a cross between a scene from The Notebook and Scarface*** I must cease and desist. 

I have officially given up on dating and erased any digital footprint I may have left in the online dating world. (I've also taken out a line of credit to pay for the 9343297 self help books I just ordered from Amazon, but hey, you only live once. I'm positive this is what Drake meant by "YOLO." 

Anyhoodle, one of the books I'm reading encourages positive thoughts...blah blah blah. Even Mr. Rogers was all like "fuck this shit" sometimes. And he did it with a god damn smile. 
But in the spirit of positivity, and hoping an alien life force travels from the sky and abducts me 
I've decided to find the positive against my will. 

Positives: 

1. I can be a hooker if I want to and I don't have to have an awkward conversation with my partner about why I'm getting a good dicking from strangers for money. I mean look, Vivian was one happy hooker AND she got diamonds. Just look at her! Now, I've got the time to hook. So much better instead of dating these motherfuckers. 

2. I don't have to shave. That includes the beard I sprung on my 30th birthday and my no-no special parts. 

3. I get to continue my emotional affair with my pizza delivery guy...and give all of myself to him and his hot, fresh, pepperoni.  

4. I can take myself on dates, get wasted, have sex with myself and not feel like Heidi Fleiss in the morning. 

5. I have more time to read and masturbate. 


6. I can wear heels all the time without worrying my date will be pocket size. (I actually shoved the last guy in my purse and he lives with me now, only he stays in the closet.) 

7. I can sleep in the centre of my fucking bed with zero consideration for the dipshit beside me. 

8. I can permanently keep my phone on silent since yo dumb ass won't be textin' 


Well shit, dawg. I guess when I look at the positives, things ain't so bad eh? 

**Slams head off coffee table and spends the evening getting into fights with strangers on the Youtube comment section.**

Peace, bitches. 

Nanners 











Aug 17, 2016

Misery Loves Company

Well, in the past 30 days, I got my period 3 FUCKING TIMES thanks to my handy dandy new birth control that makes you bleed from your vagina so much that no one wants to touch you - it's definitely 100% effective..thanks, dicks! LOVED having my period virtually my entire vacation! But fortunately, Tampax makes periods easier than ever, so I was able to enjoy full days in white pants followed by dancing in a meadow, doing a handstand and frolicking in a body of water. *Slams head of coffee table, googles 'how to grow a penis'. 

I also quit my job, started a new one, discovered that my sideburns are in fact growing in thicker along with my chin hair, grew some new stretch marks, watched the movie Halloween - did you know that in that movie a child basically murders his entire fucking family while wearing a clown mask??? I promptly ingested an entire pack of birth control that evening after watching that hell beast of a child massacre his sister and step-dad...estimated date to next time I sleep...October 2017. #yolo.  I eventually ended my 30 day stretch of bliss by recently cutting my leg in the shower so badly while I was shaving, that I briefly traveled toward the white light and nearly called 911 on myself but I feared my FUPA (Fat Upper P*ssy Area) could potentially turn off a hot paramedic so I sucked it up like a french whore on pay day and waited until the bleeding stopped. vDid I mention that the heat this summer has been fantastic for some serious inner thigh chaffing? #blessed. As a result, I'm doing my first cross fit class next week...so that should be fun to get kicked out of.


Mind you, skipping cross fit and just doing the Shake Weight is tempting. 




We're caught up now, right? Yeah, yeah,  I know I disappeared - had some shit to figure out and I didn't want my employer to stumble across this blog and tarnish the angelic impression I made on them. Needless to say, I'm back and feeling great as you can tell from my sunny disposition.

#Selfie 

I'm currently toying with the idea of going back to online dating and sticking my head in my oven.. *repeats Serenity Prayer while typing "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..."  So far I've preheated that bitch to 350. I recently took a walk down memory lane while perusing the screen shot portion of my iPhone, which is home to 73 screen shots of Toronto's finest shitbags who have all taken a liking to me. #winning! 
As a refresher, and because no one likes being miserable alone, I've uploaded a few to remind you that yes, things could be worse...you could be me...dating in this city. 
I've always been a sucker for a man with depth. 

And those who remind me of Noah from The Notebook...


And just when you think romance is dead....


Please, just stop it with your jealousy. 

I recently shared these screen shots with my nephew...
He just about pissed himself. 

Stay tuned, bitches. 

Nanners 














Oct 20, 2015

Mayday! Red Flags.

Hey, it's me... I started dating again...

*That's a pic of me when I found out 90210 was cancelled, but it's eerily similar to how I feel about dating.


In case you're an idiot (or if you're a reader that is colour blind -I'm not referring to you, you can't help it), this is a picture of red flags.

According to my handy friends on Google, red flags typically symbolize:

red flag

n.
1. A warning signal.
2. Something that demands attention or provokes an irritated reaction. 
 
Red flags are usually something my brain tells me to overlook when it comes to adventures of the heart (and panties), and you would think that by being a veteran in the dating community, that I would have this shit figured out by now... But that would be FALSE. 
 
Wait, before I go any further I should probably share some blatant "red flag" examples in dating that I shouldn't ignore some of my friends have experienced. Particularly my friend Trixie, what a slut.
 
* Texting him and not hearing back for days because he's cancelled his date with you to take his ex-girlfriend to Cuba. That's okay, fucker. I'm Scottish and I burn easy anyway.
 
* Getting ready for your date and he tells you to meet him at the casino because he's only gambled 4 out of 7 days this week. 
 
* A guy sitting on your couch off and on for an entire year telling you alllll about his ex fiance who had a baby with someone else while they were engaged. UGGHHHHHH
#selfie
 
* A guy who literally ghosts you. (A.K.A The Pussy).  Leave him be and never send a follow up text to see if he's been kidnapped by Pablo Escobar's associates. And as much as you wish this was the truth, he's just not that into you. (AT LEAST THIS IS WHAT MY FRIENDS IN MY YAHOO INTERNET CHAT GROUP TOLD ME). So, focus on your pie eating contest or your stamp collection. Your dignity and kitties will love you for it in the long run. **MAYDAY this is a steep learning curve.
 
* Or one of my faves, this jackass below who likes question games! 
 
PHEW! He then proceeds to ask what area of the city you live in and if you have a car, so you laugh it off and think. "Haha, he can't be that bad,  those are some legit questions. "
 
AND THEN HE ASKS WHAT NO MAN SHOULD EVER ASK...
Dummm de dum dum dummmmmmmm!!!!
 
If you can't figure out which question I'm referring to, you must leave my page and get on the hunt for the pack of wolves that raised you.
 
 
 
These aren't even a quarter of poor Trixie's  dating experiences, but she feels too much like the world's most gullible girl to ever share them on one fucking page. So Trixie is currently sitting on her couch eating meatballs to soothe her soul.
 
As my number one fan and love life commentator (my mom) likes to tell me, "You're too fucking soft, stop responding to these men.  You wear your heart on your sleeve and by the way you better not be having sleepovers with these men."
 
I usually respond with, "maybe you didn't hug me enough as a child?"
 
Then my mom gets all like:
 
And then I'm all like:
*That's me on the phone drinking a gin martini and ordering pizza
 
 
But, eventually I pull my big girl panties up and realize that the sad reality is, my mom is right I really may have an STD  I need to stop entertaining this bullshit.
 
BUT....when it comes to dating, as a whole, (yes, I may be a cross between Bridget Jones and Lindsay Lohan, but I'm still worth it- my therapist told me so), I'm wildly irritated by the texting habits of this dating generation.

 
Did you know texting was a game?? I was under the assumption that things such as football and Mario Kart qualified as games, but no. To my surprise texting is a game, even in your 30's! #blessed
I must have been sick the day that Satan came up into the school yard and gathered all the little boys and told them that if a girl ever texts you and asks "How are you doing?", that's a leading indicator that she wants to have your babies and she could be hiding in your bushes. Dear men, please calm the fuck down and get over yourselves - it's a text, not a legal binding contract.
"Waaaaa but I don't wanna text her back"
 
Meanwhile in reality we're:
"Pffft what text? I'm so busy having fun drinking with my friends that I forgot I texted him."
 
Then there is another group of sub-people: The LMFAO'ers:  Oh Jesus. I have a real problem with the overuse of  "LOL" and I've previously written about this experience here. However, I've noticed amongst my most recent interaction with men (or at least the ones that want to date me, yay) that there is a serious LMFAO epidemic and it needs to stop. 
 
This is LMFAO
 
 
.....Did the group LMFAO recently explode in popularity? Or is what I'm saying so hilarious that I need my own HBO comedy special? And please, how many of you are seriously LOL'ing your way through your day? Never mind LMFAO'ing. If this is the case, then why are we still struggling with world peace with all this laughing??? 
 
"Hey Amanda, how are you? LMFAO."
"Hey Mike, are you really laughing your fucking ass off when you inquire about my well being?"
 
Ugh. Yesterday I actually contemplated dropping my phone into a boiling pot of hot water, but then subsequently realized I don't have enough rice in the cupboard to fix it. And truthfully, what if an LMFAO'er texted? Or the elusive one that disappeared 4 months ago has finally wrapped up his gang bang and sees my worth?
 
I know all men aren't this bad, my best friends have snatched up the good ones, and I have guy friends that continually dispel this myth for me. But, if there is one decent one left out there for me, wherever he is,  he's getting a giant fucking slap in the face when we meet for putting me through all this.
 
Night bitches,
Nanners
 
 

Sep 27, 2015

For You, Dad.

September 29th,  1951 - April 10th, 2015

My dad was the first man I ever loved, and if Match.com, Tinder, Plenty of Fish, and OK Cupid can't get their shit together, he'll be the fucking last.

You'll be shocked to learn that this post isn't about dating or love and I'm keeping it super brief. Well, actually it is about love. Love in the purest form, and not the vulgar "I've just had a good dicking" kind of way I normally write about. It's about love for my dad who would have been celebrating his 64th birthday this coming Tuesday.  And if you knew this stubborn, loud, boisterous Scotsman, you'll believe me when I tell you that he entered the world as fiercely as he left it on April 10th, 2015.

Ah, that date. Even writing it makes me nauseated. I could sit here and write all about how I haven't been the same since, or how some days I can't wait to finish work so I can come home, lay in my bed and cry, or how badly I want to hear his voice just one more time, even if that voice is telling me I owe him money and my hair is a fucking mess. (He never missed an opportunity to tell me I'm failing at life).  But I won't. I guess you could say this post is more for myself than it is for anyone else, and I debated whether or not I should do it but I wanted to share something with my family and friends so they too could quietly celebrate his life as well. So that being said, if you haven't stopped reading yet, this post isn't littered with dick jokes and my love for Nutella but that will resume eventually. Just whatever you do, don't go questioning my love for penises and Nutella- it's still as intense as always.

Loving someone who struggled with addiction certainly posed its challenges over the years, But I wouldn't change any of it because it made me who I am and in a bit of a morbid way, I thank him for that. It's taught me to have more compassion for those in need and its taught me to take life's shittiest moments and find the humour and hold on to it (Except for on Sundays. I hate Sundays and nothing is funny ). And most importantly, its taught me to be a better friend and value anyone and everyone
I'm fortunate enough to have in my life.

But, despite the ups and downs, I knew he loved me...even when he shouldn't.

  • He loved me even when he found his 25 year old daughter face down and pant-less in the hallway covered in mustard one morning - I TOLD YOU I LOVE HOT DOGS
  • He loved me even after the time my robe opened when I was walking from the shower and he saw my cooter. (I actually only started looking him in the eye approximately 5 years after the great cooter incident of 2008).
  • He loved me even though the day after prom he watched me reverse our big blue van into a giant fucking tree at the end of the driveway and take off the whole rear view mirror and dent the door. .
  • He loved me even though I'm a walking disaster and he had to fork over his hard earned money for my casts, crutches, and ambulance fees for a solid 33 years of my life.
  • He loved me despite the fact I could somehow use the word "fuck" about 700 times in a 30 second conversation.
  • He loved me even when I was that annoying little girl who walked around the house singing show tunes in my mom's fur coat, while smoking those fake candy cigarettes. 
  • He loved me even though he knew his little perverted 16 year old daughter was watching scrambled porn in her room....nightly. Man, they don't make porn like they used to
  • He loved me even when I made him this touching apron for Father's Day one year when I was in high school:

33 years wasn't enough time, but I'm forever thankful of the time I had and for having him as a father. Dancing in the kitchen will never be the same.


Aug 4, 2015

Inner Thighs 'n Things

Well alert the church elders, it's 1000 motherfucking degrees outside and my inner thighs have actually lit on fire due to a chaffing related incident. Truth is, summer months are a real bitch for those who enjoy meals and happen to have been blessed with the pleasure of losing weight all over their entire god damn body EXCEPT FOR THEIR INNER THIGHS. (It's me I'm referring to, just in case you're an idiot).

Actually, come to think of it, the last time I wore shorts was in the summer of '87 and I just found them, located right up my ass. One minute I'm wearing shorts and the second I start walking... poof just like that, my inner thighs hoover them right up into my lady bits. I'm always too nervous to wear shorts particularly in public since I'm so afraid I'll be watching the news and they'll have a segment on the obesity epidemic and they'll feature the lower half of my body on it. You know what I'm talking about? Anytime the news has a story on weight they always have these sneaky clips of people walking down the street, but they only feature the lower half of their bodies so they remain anonymous. WHERE THE FUCK ARE THESE CAMERAS HIDING? I'm sure as shit I'd recognize my own ass eating my shorts.

Anyway, I could probably write an entire post on my adventures of my shorts disappearing into my body,  but I have more pressing issues such as  How many calories are in meatballs? Is that a rash? Oh I totally shouldn't have google image searched that. I wonder if I can pay my rent in high fives this month? How much do stamps cost? Should I be an organ donor? When will boneless, skinless chicken thighs finally go on sale? Where are all my condoms? There's no way I slept with that many people since New Years Eve! Wait, when was my last period? I should probably watch 'I Didn't Know I was Pregnant 'on TLC, those women are smart! I wonder if I wrote a cheque for 1 million dollars to myself and deposited it, how long would it take the bank to notice? I should probably get orthotics. Whoa! Why the fuck are orthotics so expensive? I'd rather have fallen arches and a bad attitude. Why do I always have to spell out WED-NES-DAY when I'm writing it? What if a plane crashed into my apartment right now? I'm in my underwear and they'd find me in my underwear beneath the rubble. I should put pants on. Man, I really want Kraft Dinner. I wonder if that Asian lady at the nail salon was really talking about me while she did my nails. She seemed so angry. I don't know what I did. I totally should have shaved my legs but I'm just so lazy. Maybe I should get a motorcycle. I feel like women who ride motorcycles are super bad-ass and respected. Mmmm Tostitos and salsa would be soooo tasty right now.  DATING. Yup, my 97 attempts at taking a hiatus from the online dating world have failed miserably, (and I always need someone to sext with) because I get lonely rotting on my couch from Monday-Thursday. US SPINSTERS HAVE A LOT OF TIME ON OUR HANDS, I TELL YA. And truthfully, there are only so many motivational quotes I can find on Pinterest that keep me from sticking my head in my oven on a daily basis.

My mother on the other hand, thinks I date way too much and since my father passed away, her and I have been spending an inordinate amount of time together, so she has plenty of time to provide me with a running commentary on my love life. Wait- can I call getting dick pics from strangers on the Internet a 'love life?' Yes, yes I can. I for one call it flattering that men go out of their way to give themselves a hard on after looking at my profile pictures and reading about how I'd like to have a family and settle down one day...(And it's no secret that talking about the future always makes men's penises erect), so I'm assuming my profile gives them a stiffy in a jiffy and they need to grab their iPhones STAT to snatch a glorious picture of their little one eyed monster, and make sure they get it to my inbox ASAP!

Okay, so back to my mom thinking I'm a whore. A few weeks ago I was telling my mom I had a couple dates coming up and she looked at me and rolled her eyes with complete disgust, "Amanda, you know, those men on the computer are going to see your picture and think 'oh there's that cyber-slut Amanda'. And they'll probably start putting your name on bathroom walls and write 'for a good time call this girl."
 
Now I don't want to brag here, but how many of you have been lucky enough to have your own mother call you a slut? Don't be jealz.
 
Ugh.
 
The latest scandal/saga/nightmare from a suitor in the online dating community is brought to you by the jackass below, who chose his ass as his profile picture. Literally...his ass. And you know what's crazy? So did I!!!  #destiny. It's just too serendipitous for words, really.

(That's a pic of cottage cheese/which also doubles as my ass. However, I have been doing some squats lately only to find my cottage cheese is being lifted higher. #YOLO.

Anyhoodle, let's take a look at the message that launched me into the fiery pits of hell one summer's eve.

#blessed
 
I was also shocked to learn we were a 0% match.

Oh and let's not forget about this jerk off as well ...Essentially, he asked me if I sold hard dicks, so naturally I had to respond.

(That was a Breaking Bad reference, so no need to alert the Feds, I don't sell meth).

Omg. His hilarity was just too much for me to handle, so I ate a jar of Nutella and slammed my head off my coffee table to curb the laughter. 

And just when I thought love was dead...
 
 

I've decided that writing doesn't quite articulate how I feel after this 2 year long dating spree, so I made a video which captures my truth.

 
 

Until next time, bitches.

Nanners



Jun 5, 2015

OKStupid

Psssst.... I've unlocked a secret society of assholes and they are all located on OKDickFace OKCupid. .

Let's just get this out of the way shall we? - My father passed away in April so I've been dealing with my own private shitstorm, so in the spirit of self torture and to distract me from the depths of my misery, I've signed back up for online dating.... BECAUSE I WASN'T MISERABLE ENOUGH. 
*This is me complaining to my attorney about the last dick pic I received

K, stay with me... I'm not gonna go all 'Tuesdays with Morrie' on you now, nor will this be a blog about the journey of grieving (it's a shit journey let me tell you). I'm still Nanners and I will continue to write obscene things to shame my family on the World Wide Web, it's just taking a while for Stella to get her groove back, ya know?

There was a Nanners pre my dad's passing that would get offensive/stupid/ridiculous/ messages in her online dating accounts and she would just barf in her mouth, sob into a pillow or flip a table over faster than a Jersey housewife quickly screen shot it and send it to her girlfriends... Now, Nanners post her dad's passing, is one that will no longer tolerate shit. *This statement just applies to online dating.(Every single one of my girlfriends just rolled their eyes because in real life this is me...
a super cute doormat

Anyhoodle.... (David, I used 'anyhoodle' just for you.. You're my favourite Italian, despite the stories Jen tells me).

It was a dark and stormy night as I sat on my couch menstruating and praying Jesus would send me a Costco size jar of Nutella. Naturally, I was feeling irritated because that jar of Nutella was M.I.A, so the next logical thing to do was check my OKCupid messages, since I hadn't been penetrated in a while there's no better pick-me-up than interacting with society's largest rejects.

Obviously there were hundreds of messages....THAT'S NOT ME BRAGGING...IT ACTUALLY DOES THE REVERSE FOR MY SELF ESTEEM...I literally sat there in a fit of rage as I scrolled through my messages, as one by one they irritated me more and more. All of a sudden, my fingers started twitching and I rapidly started typing as smoke rose off the keys...that was it...I was responding and I couldn't control it...

These definitely aren't the worst I've received -they are just highly fucking annoying after years of being off and on the online dating scene. Wait, scene? Can I even call it that?

 Por ejemplo...
  Everyone, meet Will. Will is going to die from an infection in his mouth.

Here's a 55 year old jack ass who believes you can't have your cake and eat it too.
 
Meet Jay. He's online dating for friendship...
 
 
Let's be real - you go on a dating site for two reasons
1. To have casual sex with strangers. To have cocktails and meet the love of your life.
2. To have casual sex with strangers  To find out that the love of your life is a liar who has been living a double life and you realize your friends and family are all you've got in this world so you may as well settle in for the night with a pound of Brie and a bottle of whiskey.

But seriously, I don't want to brag here... But I've got tons of friends...*flicks hair* Most of whom I've met in the bathroom at the bar, but still...a friend is a friend and I don't need any from the internet. Actually, I'll be friends with anyone. I only discriminate against douches online and people with super frizzy hair.
 
One of my favourite things is getting the same creepy fucking message from the same creepy fucking person, who clearly cuts and pastes this message to THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF WOMEN, month in and month out.
 
 
When someone is missing an article of clothing...like oh, I don't know...A SHIRT messages me, I always hear wedding bells. The kicker is, this wasn't even a selfie...someone actually took this shirtless pic for him. And the reason I know this is because he has one hand placed down the front of his pants, (which to my delight were open) and his other douchey hand is behind his head. This ain't the 80's or a Sears catalogue, quit the cheesy body poses...FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. The day I EVER hand my friend my phone and ask them to take a pic of me with my shirt off, I hope they would:  a) ask what the fuck I'm doing, and b) light my phone on fire because I can't be trusted in society.


Oh and let's not forget Tinder...another site that is causing a layer of ice to grow on my vagina. Btw- I'll be hosting the next Winter Olympics in my panties. I kid you not, the layer of ice is slowly getting thicker (and yes it's ice not chlamydia), but for some reason out of pure loneliness and need for attention and a good ol' slap and tickle I re-downloaded Tinder for the 19th and final time on my bus ride into the office this morning.
 
As my friend *Claudia Schiffer|* pointed out to me at lunch today "You only ever Tinder when you're angry, Nanners". My friend Claudia is not only beautiful, but wise. And she was right. I really only Tinder when I'm feeling 3 emotions:
 
Anger
Frustration
More Anger
 
Angry Tindering is dangerous because there is no telling what direction I'll be swiping, and 10 times out of 10 I end up with a match named Guido who is standing shirtless beside his '95 BMW and he sleeps up his mom's ass - well technically in her basement, but both have the same appeal to me.
This behaviour typically ends up launching me into a stage 5 meltdown, face-down on my couch, while watching reruns of My 600 Lbs Life. - One time, they basically had to take the god damn door off a house to remove a lady who was dangerously teetering close to 700lbs... and EVEN SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND.  *Cue Celine Dion


This is only my first day back on Tinder so stay tuned for my war stories of STD scares!

Gotta run, I'm streaming old episodes of Dateline and Keith Morrison is giving me a lady boner
 
Peace,
Nanners
 
Oh and Match.com, you can suck it as well. Why are all my matches in Thunder Bay?! I live in the city and I don't have a car. THANKS FOR NOTHING. I'm a firm believer that love does have boundaries and they exist within a 30 mile radius of my apartment.