So last night while twittering, pinning, playing Family Feud online and sending random dirty e-cards, I recieved a text message from a strange phone number talking about "their heart and how they had an x-ray done on it and they couldn't live if I wasn't in it." I can't post the entire message as I deleted it immediately. Well, I forwarded it to a friend in case I ended up on a milk carton next week. (Do they even do that anymore? Anyway, you get my drift.)
Apparently, during the game on Sunday, I was giving out my number out like Heidi Fleiss used to give out blow jobs. What is wrong with me? My phalanges have a mind of their own once the drinks start flowing, not to mention the filter from my brain to my mouth has been withering away since high school. I had a "what the fuck flashback" of a conversation I had at the bar the other night and I am sitting here purple faced as I type this. Here's how it went down...This convo was held in a scream talking tone in a busy bar:
Guy "So Amanda, what do you do?"
Me ( Here comes lie #1) "Well I am taking some time off to figure out what I want to do."
Guy "Do you live in Toronto?"
Me (Why couldn't I have stuck to lying?) "Well I actually live with my parents in the east end," (Now I try to be funny)
"I'll probably die there alone with 100 cats." Insert my laughter...Insert his blank stare.
Conversation over.
My girlfriends find this shit hilarious so they would rather witness a conversation like this to take place than to stop it. Hence, why I am taking out an ad for babysitter to smack me in the mouth when my filter is malfunctioning.
An old boss of mine told me that I have the ability to charm anyone. This was a false statement. Clearly, I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to the big, bad world of picking up. Purchasing Dating for Dummies is also not an option as I was embarassed enough to buy He's Just Not That Into You from a male cashier at Indigo. (It was 10pm on a Friday night and I wreaked of desperation.)
I must have been away that day when social ettiquette was taught...or when God handed out filters. My girlfriends (whom most have landed husbands) seem to have done something right. Maybe because they all slept with their significant others on their first dates? Ha. You know who you are.
Do I need to skip the small talk and show my Cha-Cha to get a date around here?
Smooches,
Nanners
3 comments:
Hey....I was with you when you bought 'He's Just Not That Into You' I seem to recall is was a great Friday night.
And yes, spread your legs....
That was a great night. "Buddy, I am in the self help section looking for a He's Just Not That Into You on a Friday night. How do you think I am?" HAHAHAH.
I got a few emails this morning when I referenced my friends being slutty...
Is it bad that when I lived downtown I developed a whole "relationship book library?" I totally get that... ughhhhhhhh why do guys suck so much.
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