Blokay Cupid

Before we get to today's post, I have a MERCH UPDATE for you! The merch is in, orders are filled, notes are written, swag is shamelessly thrown at you, everything is in my kitchen ready to be picked up and I've been stood up TWICE now by the god damn United States Postal Service. Which is fucking infuriating on two distinct levels:

1.) You people need your shit and I need this off my plate before I have a brain aneurysm.

2.) I wasted both of my days off this week sitting in my apartment bored out of my mind, waiting for the god damn postman to come when I could have been on my roof drinking Miller High Life and attempting to become a slightly less offensive shade of white.

And I got a confirmation email both times that I scheduled a pick up! I THINK NOT. And it's from a do-not-reply email address, so I can't bitch at them. IT MAKES. NO. SENSE. I'm so frustrated. However, I'm committed to getting you your shit, so I'm waking up early Saturday morning, loading up my embarrassing old lady grocery cart with your merch orders and taking it to the post office before work. Let me repeat that: waking up early. Saturday morning. Before work. Old lady cart. So to everyone who opened a PayPal dispute with me, put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Jesus.

And now back to your regularly scheduled post.

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Every now and then, I sit down and decide that I'm going to join an online dating site. Those match.com ads that are like, "TIME'S ARE A-CHANGIN'!!!! 1 IN 5 RELATIONSHIPS START ONLINE!!!! FOOTAGE FROM ACTUAL MATCH.COM FIRST DATES!!!!" are oddly convincing and if it's good enough for Lee and Ann-Marie, it should be good enough for me, right? Not to mention the fact that well over half of everyone I know has at some point been on, or is currently on an online dating website. And for Christ's sake; I've done it before! I joined match when I lived in Brooklyn and had a really good experience with it. (Although to be fair, I also had a really bad one, but that story is specially reserved for my hypothetical book that will never be.) (Unless Olney Elementary Press mans up and invests in my proposal.) (THE AND!)

I can't tell you how many times I've sat down at my computer with every intention of creating an online dating profile for myself, but everytime I do, two things stop me. And these two things will keep away me from online dating forever.

1.) This email that Alex got from OkCupid, subject: alexpkeet, we have data on your attractiveness!

Because I'm sure that's too small to read, it says:

"We are very pleased to report that you are in the top half of OkCupid's most attractive users. The scales recently tipped in your favor, and we thought you'd like to know.

How can we say this with confidence? We've tracked click-thrus on your photo and analyzed other people's reactions to you in QuickMatch and Quiver.

Your new elite status comes with one important privilege: You will now see more attractive people in your match results.

This new status won't affect your actual match percentages, which are still based purely on your answers and desired match's answers. But the people we recommend will be more attractive. Also! You'll be shown to more attractive people in their match results."

Now, while I'm not arguing with the mathematics that Alex = good-looking (and per Alex, that dollar-sign can be removed upon request. And per me, that request costs a small fee, all proceeds going towards 2birds1blog.com.), that is the most absolutely terrifying email I have ever seen in my entire life. EVER. Because it means that if I sign up for OkCupid and don't receive that email, I am without a doubt in the "Busted McGee" tier of users and will only see photos of hunchbacks and drifters in my match results from now on. There will be no question about it. At least with match you can dilute yourself into thinking, "Oh, it's matching me with people who look inbred because I listed "The Tudors" as an interest, lolz!" but here there's really no ambiguity about it. You're busted. Ergo, you are being matched with busted people. Alex is attractive. Ergo, he gets matched with attractive people. Good day to you.

And you know what the most terrifying part of that entire email is?

And, no, we didn't just send this email to everyone on OkCupid. Go ask an ugly friend and see.

OH, COME ON!!!! Now that's just unnecessary and terrifying. Isn't the entire point of online dating like, "Everyone is gay and your job is demanding. We'll find you someone, sweetie."? It just seems sort of counter-productive to make it just as rough and competitive as real world dating. Because if I wanted to feel insecure next to my friends, I'd probably just go outside instead of joining an online dating website.

2.) The "About Me" profile section. The About Me section is the cover letter of online dating; you have to jump through these literary hoops to make yourself sound interesting and desirable when all you really want to say is: "Hi. My name is Meg. If alone in a room with me, I won't kill you. So give me a chance." and be done with it.

Not to mention the fact that I don't have a lot of confidence in my interests. Have you ever sat down and really taken an audit of your honest-to-god interests? It's a truly enlightening experience. Because let's just all agree that we, as a people and a nation, love traveling, cooking, working out, reading and hanging out with friends and family. OK? Let's just move on from those five activities. All five are fun, all five superficially make you sound like an interesting and datable person, but I truly believe it's what you enjoy besides those activities that say the most about you are. And what I discovered recently from making a painfully honest list of my interests is that I miiiiight be a douchebag.

I leave you now with the list of interests that I sat down and wrote a few months ago when I was going through one of my pro online dating phases. Enjoy. And feel better about yourself.

My Painfully Honest Lists of Interests (in no order):

- Sleeping

- Drinking

- Pugs

- 1980's high fashion

- Graphic design

- Crafting

- 1970's and 1980's soap operas

- The fictional character Randy Marsh from "South Park"

- Kashi food products

- Vampire movies (excluding the Twilight series and including Dracula 2000, starring the completely underrated Johnny Lee Miller)

- The score from Goonies

- Gold lamé

- Dr. Dre's music

- Dr. Dre as an entity

- Gangster rap in general

- Diagnosing myself with things I read about on Webmd.com

- Fantasizing about moving to Antwerp

- Religious iconography

- Skeletons

- Funk music

- Fake hair

- Mini golf

- Going to the gym drunk

- Brushing my teeth drunk

- Singing "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" at karaoke

- Snark & sarcasm

- My Jack Daniel's pajama pants

- The unbelievably comfortable combination of thigh-high socks, booty shorts and a wife beater

- Jägermeister

- Trying to convince Jägermeister to give me money

- Researching pug harnesses and pug accessories online

- Kelly Cutrone

- Grace Coddington

- Kevin Yang

- The extreme relaxation that is taking a Klonopin and listening to Keith and the Girl on the Bolt Bus to New York

- Brunch

- Obsessively organizing my magazine collection

- Brainstorming dishes I would serve if I owned a Halloween-themed creperie called "The Creepy Creperie" (i.e.: Booberry Crepes)

- Andre Fine Sparkling Wine

- Creating fictional band names

- Plucking my eyebrows

- Blogging and Tweeting (Jesus...)

- Watching The Simpsons

- Quoting The Simpsons

- Occasionally thinking about the Ruben Studdard song "Sorry 2004" and laughing to myself

- Windexing things

- Tim Gunn

- Looking up notoriously rough neighborhoods on Google Maps street view

- Saying that I like to ironically play Risk when I just genuinely enjoy playing it

- Likewise for attending RenFest

- The television programming of NatGeo, Discovery, Discovery Health, TLC and A&E

- Every wedding show on WE except "My Fair Wedding with David Tutera"

- Looking at wedding blogs despite the fact that I have no desire to get married right now

- The frightening accuracy of Washington Post's horoscope section

- Doing New York Times' online crossword puzzles for "Young Solvers"

- Gummy foods

- Tattoos

- Playing "Trapped in a Box for 29-hours"

- Dentyne Ice spearmint gum

- Micron pens

- Quoting Wet Hot American Summer

- Quoting "Clone High"

- Larry Hagman's health

- Administering online quizzes to people while referring to myself as "The Quiz Master"

- Snuggling (which doesn't make me gay if I do it with a girl, mom)

- Defending my heterosexuality to my mother

- Gwen Stefani as an entity

- Trying to defeat Donkey Kong Country on Super Nintendo in under 1 hour and 17 minutes, a personal best achieved when I had mono in the spring of 2003

- Reorganizing my Netflix queue

- Wine flavored Black & Milds

- Crabbing

- Blue Gatorade

- Power-C Vitamin Water

- My love/hate relationship with my parent's cat, Evie

BOOM. Honestly.

A little animmosity and a lot of love

Woo—thank Jah it's Friday, huh?? Except not really because now that I work queer retail hours, Tuesdays and Wednesdays are technically my "weekend" and my conventional weekends are full of work. So really, Monday is my Friday. TGIM! (Side note: After typing that, I thought to myself, "Thank God it's—" and my brain auto filled with Mo Collins. Fascinating.) Despite having to work today, and tomorrow, and Sunday, and Monday, I'm still psyched it's Friday. And I'm 99.9% sure we all know why...

It's TGI Hagman, baby!


(By the way, I get an oddly high number of emails from people being like, "I love TGI Hagman!...But I don't entirely get it. What's the story behind it?" For the record, the back story is located here and I link to it every week to avoid confusion. Looks like I've been doing an "awesome" job.)

As of April 30, 2010 (a.k.a. my Facebook wife Talia's 25th birthday. Happy birthday, baby! You look just as good as you did the day I met you when you were 13. Oh, I was 13 too, for the record. Just wanna clear that up. Things were starting to feel slightly homo stranger danger in here for a hot second...) at 2:44am, Larry Hagman is...alive! And the Lord said, "Let there be Hagman."

Cella's alive too, for the record. As is the last surviving fish from the Real World DC house, Real. I'm pretty much a pro at sustaining the life of Z-list pets. It's a gift and a curse, really. Despite the touching number of people pulling for her, I'm probably not going to make TGI Cella a weekly feature. I feel like throwing the fact that she's maybe kind of about to die in Becky's face once a week on a public blog might be a dick move on my part. Emphasis on the might. So, god speed, little Cella. The 2b1b community is rooting for you.

SPEAKING OF THE 2B1B COMMUNITY! I have lots of things to talk about involving you fine people. Let's delineate, shall we?

- I have the results from yesterday's edition of "Am I Crazy, or are You?"

Re: Cleaning the lint trap in a shared laundry environment

SURVEY SAYS: You are crazy. And by "you," I mean the degenerates in my building who don't feel it's necessary to clean the lint trap after using a dryer. And despite my win, I'd like to address this comment:


That's not the point. It's not a sanitation issue, it's a common courtesy issue. You used a public machine and as a result, residue built up. Said residue needs to be removed before the next person can use the machine. Therefore, it is your responsibility to remove your residue. I don't care if laundry lint is made of candy corn and orgasms; I don't want to touch yours.

Re: For all intents and purposes vs. For all intensive purposes.

SURVEY SAYS: We are crazy. It's "for all intents and purposes." I'm always so fascinated by what puts the 2b1b communities panties in a twist and this debate definitely did. I haven't seen you guys this fired up since I said Journey sang Livin' On a Prayer. Grammar snobs and 80's power ballad fans, you are. This kind of marketing research is invaluable. But, yes, wipe the sand out of your collective vadge everyone, because now we're all officially on the same page: the phrase is "for all intents and purposes." AND FUCK ME IN THE FACE HOLE FOR EVER THINKING OTHER WISE.


Jesus Christ. I've put on a little depression weight since my birthday; wanna talk about that too?


Jesus von Creezus. If by "careless" you mean I typically write this between the hours of midnight and 4 o'clock in the morning because I have a day job and a social life, than yes, I have gotten mighty careless. That being said, you have a point. I actually considered asking Becca to start editing my posts before I put them up, but that would delay the posting time considerably because homegirl has a real person job. I don't know, dude. Its you're call. (SEE?! See what I did their?!) (And they're!) (And they are!) (I could do this all day.)

Re: Eye-you-dee vs. Yood

SURVEY SAYS! Blow up your vagina because I don't want to talk about IUDs anymore.

Ok, good. Glad that's all settled.

- Now, I know I was kind of just an asshole to three of you (BECAUSE YOU WERE AN ASSHOLE TO ME FIRST, GAWD) but this is a quick reminder to please go here and write in 2birds1blog for Best Local Blogger. Ha ha ha...ha, yes...awkward timing. Today is the last day to vote so please, please, please take five seconds to do it and maybe recruit a few friends to do the same. Any additional awards we win or press we get helps keep the blog going. We appreciate it!

- You know who else I appreciate? 2b1b reader Kate from Atlanta. Why? Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because she went to a Kelly Cutrone book signing and made this happen:




I mean, can we all just take a moment to stand up in our cubicles wherever we may be and give Katie one hell of a collective standing ovation? Because well played, madam. Well played, indeed. You are my newest new best friend. (Also shout-out to Andrew M. Because I have a mega friend crush on him and maybe we're already BFFs in my head? What? I don't know, I blacked out.)

- This doesn't have anything to do with the 2b1b community, but I've had the song Hands Across America stuck in my head for three days now. And it's horrible. Because not only is the song stuck in my head, the visual of celebrities swaying is stuck in my head as well. Specifically Stevie Wonder, for some reason.

- And while we're on the topic of things that have absolutely nothing to do with anything, I grabbed a burger and a beer with Lara after work tonight and when our check came, I cackled my face off, took a picture of it and emailed it to Alex with the subject line: "BAHAHAHAHA!" Why? Because our check number was 69 and I'm a small child.


After I hit send, a lightning bolt of fear shot through my body because for the hottest of hot seconds, I thought I sent it to the person above Alex in my email contact list—this total cuntbag from Gotham magazine who interviewed me for a graphic design position when I was trying to decide if I should get a new job or leave New York all together in 2008. She was horrible and point-blank made fun of the magazine I worked for at the time and obviously didn't offer me the job. I felt Ok about it though because as hot as she thought her shit was, she was wearing a halter top with her black bra straps blatantly showing. Because, hi, I'm a strapless bra, we should get a drink some time.

Anyway, the point being, my heart momentarily dropped into my butt at the thought of her getting an email from me, two years after the interview, the only contents being typed laughter and a picture of a receipt with the number 69 on it...But I sent it to Alex, thank god. Although he hasn't responded, which is out of character. Hm. (Alex, call, text or email me as soon as you read this to confirm that you indeed got the email. And do not fuck with me and say you didn't get it when you really did because you think it would be fun to watch me have a stroke.) (Ha ha...stroke.)

- Yesterday was Amy's birthday (woo hoo!) and I'm sure she's still nursing her hangover (something I think we can all understand) so we're going to skip Queer Abby this week and move on to this week's drinking game. But don't forget, if you have questions, you can always write in to QueerAbby@2birds1blog.com.

Considering how the theme of today has been appreciating the frightening, comical and powerful force that is the 2b1b community, I whipped up a 2birds1blog drinking game to start the weekend off right! So I give you—2birds1blog's 2birds1blog Drinking Game! (META!)

Rules:
Drink when:
- TYPO!
- A Meglet story is told
- Evie makes an appearance
- Meg solicits her readers for narcotics
- Tulane Chris uses a word that makes you wish you paid attention in SAT Prep
- Tulane Chris makes an obscure history reference that makes you wish you paid attention in AP Modern World
- An ex co-blogger is referenced
- Becca is hyperlinked to the Moustache Manifesto
- Sorr about the bag
- A post is tagged with a tag that has literally nothing to do with anything (i.e. "Boobs boobs the magical fruit" or "tampon flinging")
- A word is italicized
- A word is in bold
- An em dash is used
- Meg talks about her time in New York like it was a tour of 'Nam
- The 2birds1blog Twitter account is hyperlinked (DRINK)
- Depression, alcoholism or technology problems are discussed
- American University gets ripped on
- No Post Monday (and pour one out for the fallen blog post)
- Someone has a WHAT THE FUCKITY FUCK FUCK?!?!?! moment
- Someone asks Dr. Reuben a question
- Dr. Reuben answers a question
- Meg mocks Dr. Reuben's answer to a person's question
- Someone makes love to a food product
- Narwhals
- Welp
- Blokay
- Blalright
- Oh, I'm sorry
- I'm not not_______
- AN
- rull or rully
- batshit crazy
- !!!!!!!!11
- There's a photo
- There's a video clip
- Turtle Rapes Shoe
- It's a fictitious holiday (i.e. TGI Hagman or Drinking Game Friday) (DRINK/DRINK)
- Something awkward happens (HAHAHA, just kidding. We'd all be alcoholics. Ooo! Discussing alcoholism! Drink!) (AH! Italics! Double drink!)
- The Jack Daniels pants a.k.a. Second Skin are referenced
- Weekend Hair and/or Aspie's Clip are referenced
- A McCain is referenced
- Someone overshares
- Pen names are used
- Meg tries to get you to vote for something
- You do
- Thanks!

Again, thank you so much for all of your support. Have a great weekend and we'll see you right back here Monday morning. (KNOCK ON WOOD!) Buh-bye.