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Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Mid-night ramblings of an angry man.

I feel like channeling some Denis Leary tonight I guess.  Maybe I just need a good old fashioned rant the way some know I am capable of, but I feel like if I don't get some of this shit out of me I might explode a little bit on someone who most likely doesn't deserve it.  Because damnit I'm fed up with some stuff.  Things I've noticed the last while that I must vent about.  These are real-life observances, I'm not just making shit up.

Kids these days:

In case some of the maggot-infested degenerate parents somehow happen to come across this blog, and I really doubt how they might as not too many read this blog, barely even a few but hey, I just want to point some things out about you and your kids.

When you have dragged your beautiful stuck in the 80's ass out of bed finally and have made the oh so difficult trek to Walmart to fill up your stash of ho-ho's, ding dongs, and microwavable dinners and you are there in the line with one kid hanging damned near upside down in the cart, with one of your flock of kids pulling the others hair fighting over who gets to sit on the bottom of the cart for the ride out of the car, that little 3 year old duder is crying.  Now, your logic it seems as you are disgruntled about them not selling you your carton of Virginia Slims through the express checkout that you clearly brought no less than 42 bajillion items through, it's easiest for you to scream at your kid as loud as possible in your nicest voice to "STOP CRYING!!!! MY GAWD!!!!!  THIS, THIS IS WHY I HATE SHOPPING WITH YOU GOD DAMN KIDS!!!"  Maybe you should realize that the little kid that's crying just might be crying over his future.  Way to go supermom, yell at the kid like that, I'm sure it will stop him from crying.

Or you, yes you, that Mom and Dad that are so busy doing your not parenting that you failed to notice that your daughter just left the house wearing an outfit that I would assume the trendiest bar whores all aspire to wear on a friday night.  Today, just today I interrupted my own conversation with a friend to stare at two girls that had to be about 15 years old tops wearing the sluttiest, the most lascivious outfits they could possibly find (matching outfits mind you) heading into the mall as I was outside sipping on a coffee contemplating the state of my guts.  Yeah yeah drinking coffee wasn't helping my guts but hey, I was stewing, get off me...

I am assuming that your excuses would be freaking mind boggling to say the least, and why I haven't followed these kids home to slap the shit out of you both is beyond me.  Now that's something that I'd love to go to jail for.  I mean really...  What are you instilling into these girls heads?  To demand respect from men, but dress up like a damn tart?  To put out an image that says whatever the hell it's saying so loudly that it makes me want to freak out?  THESE ARE YOUR LITTLE GIRLS.  If you feel like letting them out in public like that, then don't be too upset when whatever image they are putting out there backfires on them and they come crying to you.  PROTECT THEM FROM THAT.  For crying out soft where the hell are your values at?

And the dudes.  Ahh the dudes.  I don't even know what to say.  Put on a pair of skin tight pants, a pink Aeropostle shirt, comb your hair into a Fohawk and act like a douche bag non-stop.  Pro-tip:  Those Vans, Converse, etc shoes that you are wearing unlaced, the skin tight pants and the pink shirt look really damn stupid.  Also get a haircut.  You're confusing the other dudes.  For real.

Oh am I sounding old here?  Am I sounding old fashioned?  Is there a cardinal rule here I am breaking because I don't have kids of my own?  Stow that crap because you are being a stupid stupid parent.  These are the same kids that you dumbasses are letting drive your 50 thousand dollar pickup up and down 17th street at night so fast that if something DID go wrong they wouldn't have a chance in hell of recovering the body with any sign of life out of the car he just smashed.  You are the same idiot that is also letting the same kid take out your 60 thousand dollar ski boat that he is promptly filling up with girlie's and running it into a rock complaining to me about what it's going to cost to fix.  You deserve this shit sandwich you moron, you made it and served it up.  Eat it.

Your kids are NOT MINIATURE ADULTS.  They are KIDS.  Your inability or flat out refusal to PARENT these kids are turning them into the monsters that they are.  The Honda that I just saw you driving down the road with 2 car seats in the back filled with toddlers while you blast some asshole rap music as loud as you can with your 12 inch subs is the same car that they are learning behaviour skills, manners, and basic everyday crap in.  It's the same crap that you are teaching your kid now that is having them bitch slapping each other at Leo's Pizza for no good damn reason.  It isn't cute.  It isn't acceptable.  It isn't funny.  It's despicable.  And so are you.  While you feed your kid non stop sugar and bitch that your medicaid won't work at this dentist or that dentist because your 4 year old needs a root canal on their baby teeth from all of the crap that you feed your kids yet somehow don't get their teeth brushed.  Are you kidding me?  Get the crap out of their mouth and feed them something decent so they don't grow up and be a diabetic due to the bullshit diet that you are starting them on now.


Listen up chuckle head.  Racism isn't something that a little kid is born with.  It's something that is taught.  It isn't cute to call someone a racist name while your kid is sitting there munching on his happy meal.  They may learn some of this crap from his peers, but they are learning the beginnings of it at home with you, you degenerate asshole.  Kids should hate chores, and dentists, and members of the opposite sex until their teens.  Not the color of someones skin.  You want to go back to the 60's and 70's and relive that crap go ahead.  I'm not.  Grow the hell up.

Stupid Single People:

You, yes you the 30 something person that is dating.  The same damn person that declares that the relationship has lost it's excitement, or the shiny newness of it and for no other reason torpedoes your current relationship and or marriage to go out with that hot piece of something that you recently met and have already decided that you are going to cheat with anyways so your justifications are just plain shit.  YOU DESERVE IT.  Yeah, you are going to get your heart broken, yeah you are going to have some kind of shit storm sandwich with this new person when it's over.  You know why?  Well stupid it's because that person wasn't qualified to drive themselves to work let alone be in a relationship with you.  You deserve it.  You know why?  Well it's because you largely made it happen.  You know what you should have done?  You should have remembered what made you get married, or in the relationship in the first place and worked on THAT instead of just bailing out on something that was once the best day of your life for the life that seems so green on the other side of the fence.  You are an idiot.  Get the hell out of my dating pool you are pissing in the water.

Hey dudes.  Yes you, you fat piece of crap.  Take better care of yourself.  Don't treat your wife/girlfriend like you don't give a shit, because when you start doing that, well who can blame her when she leaves.

Hey girls.  I have no idea how to unscrew your brain because I have no idea why you are more interested in a different guy that is only telling you what he is do have his way with you anyways.  Congrats.  You're now a single girl/mom and get to do it all over again.  I hope your shiny new douche bag that you are throwing your current other away for instead of trying to work on it was worth it.  You suck.  A lot.

Don't cheat on your significant other.  Don't lie to them.  Don't take them for granted.  Don't ignore their needs/wants.  Don't think that it would be so much easier on your own, or out of the relationship.  When you've gone off and made your crap sandwich they are NOT going to take you back.  They are instead going to loathe you for the rest of your days and revel in the fact that you are miserable to some degree.

By the way jackasses.  Birth control is there for a reason.  You don't want kids?  You don't want an STD?  If you in your infinite wisdom have decided to tramp yourself about use birth control.  IT'S CHEAP AND EFFECTIVE.  Sure everyone gets lonely, sure it's nice to have someone close.  Sure isn't nice when you just brought an innocent soul into this world that you didn't want.  Sure isn't nice when you have Herpes or god knows what else because you were careless.  If you're a big ol grownup, and you're OK with having promiscuous sex, then you had better play by some kind of rules.

The text message.  Wow.  The things that are sent on text messages.  It seems that as men and women we are now somehow incapable of returning a call or a whatever?  We instead do all this by remote through texting?  I'm a real person.  Talk to me with your real person voice.  Else I will really not get back to you, or I will really not bother to contact you again.  Oh and you, the married woman.  DON'T TALK TO ME.  SERIOUSLY.  I may think that you are gorgeous as all get out.  I may even crave or desire a relationship with you.  Please don't ask me to do that.  Really.  Just stop.  You know who you are.

A lot of these are my own personal bitches about stuff, but I tell you what, it can apply to all of us.  We want to be loved so badly that we will substitute a bad match, or a bad relationship in the interim to help us what...  Forget?  Feel better?  I don't know.  But I know it sucks.


Holy shit.  seriously.  Here's some of the beginning phrases from the ladies to get us started.  Ladies first you know?  We'll get to the guys after.   But first, a foreword:

Look.  We all know it's hard finding someone.  Technology has presented itself with a means to hook two people up through an electronic classified.  Well....  Use it as that.  Use it to meet someone new, maybe a different avenue or whatever the hell, I don't know but use it properly.  Here's a compilation of the GARBAGE that you WOMEN are using as a first impression on the guys.  Keep in mind that THESE ARE LOCAL WOMEN'S ADS. 

can you love me for real?

Looking for the needle in the haystack

Is this game worth it

iam looking for a lover

R all the mature men gone?


blah blah blah

Are you my Knight in Shining Armor???
where are the real men at?!?!?!?!?

Trying to find whatever it is....

Where are all the nice guys?

are there any good men left in the world

My give a damn is busted

just looking for some male companionship


Holy crap girls...  Now obviously there are actually some interesting reads at this particular site, and I have toyed with the idea of maybe participating but...  Some of this crap is unbearable.  Don't you dare lump me into the same category as whatever the hell you are looking for because I am not interested in what you are selling.  You come off like an uneducated twat.  You can't spell.  You already seem like someone I wouldn't want to meet in the first place.  Good gravy...  seriously try again. 
But wait...  seriously the guys are sooooo much more entertaining:

is there any good hearted women outthere
Born to Lose

What be Hap-O-Nin???


looking for friends, sex, maybe more...

You the one Mrs Cleo told me about?

Lookin to rope a real woman

Lifes too important to be taken serious

F.B.I female body inspector

Married but looking for a friend

lets get drunk!

what's up girlies

Looking for Friends with Benefits

Wow...  Just wow...  Spelling.  The message itself..  Just everything...  I go to one particular site to pretty much just laugh my ass off at what people think would sell "them".  Really guys?  Perhaps there IS some Ditch Pig out there, or some incredibly awful someone who will go for what you are saying, and if so...  Well that's just sad.

Well I'm actually getting tired, so I'm going to cut this short here.  But it did feel good getting some of it out.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Dude... She's on your team.

There are rules.  This is not a game.  This is the official start of the 2010 "She's on your team" season.  First there are a few things that you need to be aware of.

#1  You are playing the game, even though you didn't know it.

#2  There are rules to this game.

#3  Disputing the rules is a valid tactic.

#4  Girls also play this game.

#5  You cannot refuse to play the game once someone makes an assignment.

There's much more to it, and lets get down to the nitty-gritty shall we?  First off, we all know that it wouldn't be fair if you could just pick your own team members.  Team members must be assigned through another.  Otherwise I am sure Todd would be stacking his team with this kind of thing:

And yes, Wal-mart is a really good spot to find that player that you need to fill your team spots.  Ladies, no worries, we aren't forgetting about you either:

It's customary that if you have just been assigned an award winning member of the opposite sex to your team to celebrate further by giving them a position assignment.  Tall people are great for corners and quarterbacks, while midgets obviously in my case are better assigned as a kicker.

There are further rules that may endager your assignment refusals.  For example, if you worked with, frequented a place where said team assignment hangs out, or in some way are related to the assignee, they are by DEFAULT on your team, and the contesting of the assignment is void.

Here are some rules that Shad Staples would usually make clear in any situation.

#1  At no time can you have romantic relations with your team members.  They are on your team to play the game, and that is all.  (We've run into trouble on this one a few times due to Todd...)

#2  At no time can you refuse a team assignment.  The only time this rule may be broken is if you can give adequate pause to the assignee on the reason that you provide.  If they hesitate for any considerable amount of time (seconds) you have successfully rebuked the assignment and can assign it right back.

#3  Team members can be assigned if you are absent.  All you need is one witness to the assignation of the team member, and provide an accurate description of why they were assigned and it's a valid assignment.

#4  The rules at any time may be modified if the rule you propose is agreed upon by other team members present.  These rules do not have a lasting effect, but to the quick witted player it can save you from being assigned a member affectionately nicknamed "The Frump".  I had 5 days to find a better team member assignment to another and failed to do so, and thus I am a lifetime owner of "The Frump".  Honorable mention of this rule to Boone Braithwaite.  Thanks a lot buddy...

Remember that the truly rediculous team assignments that you are given are something to be proud of.  Each season I make it a point to make sure that Jason "Jay Jay" Weninger has some absolutely eyeball burning icky poo poo nasty of a team assignment.  In each occasion he has accepted the assignment graciously.  Mainly for the reason that he is banned from having sex with them.

Now for those of you that think this is just some insensitive way for us to poke fun at anyone that's out of shape, you are wrong.  Some of the best assignments are really icky thin people.  Let's face it, the world is full of some pretty damn interesting people.  Here's a few instances to support me.

So let's get out there and get working on your teams folks!  Spring has finally arrived and some of the best assignments are ready to be poached!  Good luck to you on this years teams!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The Midnight Panty Bandit

I've had a hard time pinning down something to write about lately.  Oddly enough this isn't due to the fact that hillarious bullshit hasn't been transpiring, but more to the reason that I haven't wanted to tell certain stories that may or may not contain information incriminating to the nincompoops that I call friends.  But it's strange, I keep coming back to those things.  So we'll forge ahead, and talk about other things.

It's come to my attention that I'm not the only one out there that is currently trying to sniff out a member of the opposite sex whom doesn't suck so that we can spend time with her and not want to light the crazy raunch on fire or throw her in front of a bus.  In some cases I feel truly bad for my friends due to the fact that I occasionally like them a bit more than I even like myself.  I also know that I'm sure that if I dated them I'd want to throw them in front of a bus or light them on fire but hey, as long as I don't date my friends we will be ok.  I'd much rather commit murder with a stranger than a friend.

There's a fellow I know, and for reasons needed to protect his privacy, well will call him Todd.  Oh wait.  I did that wrong. 

This, is Todd.

Todd isn't Hines Ward.  I know you may think he is, but he's from a different racial background.  To the inexperienced at sensing such things I will just tell you, he's obviously Canadian.

This is also Todd


From this picture it's much easier to tell that he's Canadian, just so we can put that issue to rest.  He's tried to pass himself off as other things in the past, but we don't hold these attempts to disguise his heritage against him.  For example, here he is in his leisure garb, trying to pass himself off as a Mexican cowboy.

But we all know you're Canadian buddy, no reason to keep up the charade trying to hide your anscestry.  Seriously.  Just stop.

Moving on, we need to talk about what makes Todd a fine catch so to speak to you members of the smarter sex.  Todd has many qualities that raise him at least inches above the competition.  Here's a few that don't do that.

And yes, I am sure I had something to do with this.  I may have been present, and I may have taken the picture.  But the jackassery behind the photo isn't the problem.  It's the fact that Todd is a Midnight Panty Bandit with a penchant to wear these panties on his melon (no sniffing).  He has tried to convince us all that it's actually a "calling" and that he "needs to free them from captivity".  Now yes, that there is a prime example of a wonderful Jaegermeister Panty, this we can all agree on.  The fact that he stole it from the drawer of a parapalegic retired conveinience store clerk that he lovingly refers to as "Fran-Fran" really shouldn't worry you too much.  He chooses his targets based on their aggressive behaviour and whether or not he could fend them off with his limited martial arts training (Canadians suck at fighting).  He has a tendency to go for deaf targets as well as he usually recites his montra of "NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!" while running about in circles like Sancho after a hot bowl of chili.

Todd has a few sketchy details in his past.  One is so wonderful that we aren't going to share it here, and he and I will be making THAT blog entry together as a team.  It's such a powerful thing that I just don't dare attempt it on my own as the sheer power of it may burn out my keyboard as it is written.

Other details about Todd.
Todd knows Volleyball

Todd knows how to ride on the back of a bike.

Todd knows how to DJ.

Todd knows how to dance.

Todd technically rode a motorcycle (badly) once.

See? (Yay gratuitous asscheek shot!)

Now Todd has a few stories to tell.  Some involve the FBI, some involve 100 foot long slip-n-slides.  Most involve terrible women.  I call them terrible women because frankly, they are and I also am trying to avoid dropping any "F" bombs.  Now this isn't Todd's fault.  Todd is a great guy.  I'd date him, and some would argue that I already do so.  What Todd doesn't do is expect the level of batshit crazy that comes his way.  I'm already particularly jaded in that department but Todd is an innocent butterfly  It's a nice way to go through life, giving others the benefit of the doubt, beleiving that they in fact aren't soulless skanks that are preying on his life energy much akin to a leech in the canal stuck in your super duper private spot.  But our hero folks, has a problem.  His pecker is broken.  Oops, I meant PICKER.  Damnit I did it again.

Todd is such a loyal friend that he will stick himself in a bad situation and gut it out so far past whatever would be deemed reasonable that you shake your head in befuddlement.  I've seen him take gigantic spoonfuls of shit and go back for fourthsies on a regular basis just trying to do the right thing by someone that didn't deserve the first round in many eyes.  What this loyalty gets him is a bad deal.  And in his defense, I have seen a few of the girls that Todd has wanted to give it a shot with etc, and he doesn't have bad taste (always).  But I tell you.....  Sometimes you wonder if he's channeling Marie Curie playing with Radium and heading towards an agonizing death of radiation poisoning.

Bar time with Todd isn't for the faint of heart.  I have carefully developed an immunity from many of the things that can infect brains in the presence of Todd at the pub and turn the layman into a babbling useless glob.  Many many others do not have this ability and end up drooling off in a corner somewhere alone where Todd will sometimes stop by out of the kindness of his heart, put a spare panty on your head, and run off like an asian (Canadian?) leprechaun giggling softly.  We have been boy scouts to the girls, we have been a fearsome threat to few, and we have seen Todd racially profiled by the Idaho Falls City Police.  I personally have lost him for up to an hour at a time, but the chances of him simply swapping saliva with a random barchick in the parking lot is usually (read always) a safe bet.  On occasion I have even been baffled by his jedi powers and lost him for the evening.  Once this included a phone call begging for rescue that I pitifully was asleep for and missed.  But after hearing the story of what had transpired I felt pretty bad.  I could have stopped it, I could have made a difference.  *sigh*

I'm proud to call myself a friend of Todd.  Todd has almost as many friends as he has stolen panties.  He's just has that quality.  No matter how many times Todd makes a mistake with a female, no matter what situation he could use a helping hand, I am glad that I am a person that he could call on for it.  Some friends you hang out with, some friends you see occasionally.  But sometimes you meet a friend that no matter what stupid ass thing they did, or no matter how crazy the situation is becoming it's always worth it.  Whether it's for the story, the experience, or the cringe, he's that guy.  Why no woman has made a decent kept house ape of him I have no idea.  This guy doesn't cheat on women.  This guy doesn't treat women badly.  This guy doesn't do any of the shit that so many of you women seem to enjoy lapping up from asshole guys like milk for a kitten.  So I might ask you, what the hell is your problem?  I for one have considered going gay for him, but we are in agreement that we both just couldn't stomach it in the long run.

Oh and one final reason?  You might get lucky enough to meet this little angel if you date the guy.

Love yah man.  You are now immortalized on the blog.  Hope it did you justice.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

You take a hotdog, some Coors, some Boone's wine and a Grendel.

The true worth of a man is to be measured by the objects he pursues. - Marcus Aurelius

Well...  that kinda sucks.  Is there a catch in there?  Perhaps he meant pursues while not being a jackass?  Maybe.... What you mean to pursue when you aren't lubing up with soap and whizzing down a 100 foot slip-n-slide?  There's got to be a loophole!  I've been known to pursue a cheeseburger now and then. Nope that's not it either.  Damnit damnit damnit...  Objects?  As Jay would say, well... There's a few things Jay might say, tho neither work here very well, "I like skanky chicks!" and "I like pie!"  hmm...  Still not what we are looking for here.  Maybe it means the stuff that's in your heart, your dreams, you wants and hopes?  True love?

Boy if that's it then I've been doing it wrong.  But hey, I think there's a defense to be made in my defense defensively!  With the fine group of people I hang out with there has to be something to say about the things we have pursued yes?  Let us delve deeper.....

The pursuit of the Grendel.

Now if ever there were a pursuit that is worth mentioning it has to be Grendel.  No no no, not the monster from Beowulf, tho I am sure it would be a good fight if Jay wasn't such a jackass and remembered to put gas in it before the battle.  To the best of my knowledge, Grendel is Jay Ellingford's first true love.  It's a hard love to understand mind you with all the strange shit he has done to that truck but hey, a mans love is sometimes hard to understand.  Oh yes, here's Jay by the way....

Cute kid right? Well as you can see below he has been known to look a little skerry.

Also in his defense, he is going to kill me for that last picture obviously.  Jay has a truck.  This truck's name is Grendel.  To my knowledge it's been through 3 engines, a transfer case here and there, axles, cab, stereo equipment galore, rims, and tires ranging from street legal to holy shit big.  This is an object that Jay has pursued for many years, and I'm pretty sure he isn't done with it yet, just sidetracked with some other project at the moment!  I borrowed this truck once to likely go to the mall to buy me some kickin rad Oakleys or buy some stupid CD.  In the middle of the intersection the throttle cable just kinda fell off the carb, but in a bad bad way putting the engine at redline.  Took a phone call and climbing into the engine bay to figure out that one.  My right ear suffers from hearing loss.  You see, it's hard to find a good spot to put that 3 inch tweeter in a steel cab Chevy truck, so they are best mounted right next to your head.  Also, Judas Priest is the appropriate music to tune Grendels stereo, or create the scar tissue in my right ear, whichever.

Grendel has made Jay late for more activities than anything else could hope.  The reason was always the same, he ran out of gas.  You see when you build a racing engine and put it in a huge truck that doesn't have a fuel gauge you are pretty much screwed until someone has the bright idea to mention that perhaps you should carry a gas can with you in the back of the truck.  We saw Jay a lot more after that.  I don't get to see Jay as much as I would like, but he has moved on from Grendel and his other projects and has pursued a beautiful family instead.  I think we're safe for now as long as he doesn't try to take them apart and then try to figure out how to put them back together again in a living room somewhere.

The man with no Moss.

This, is Michael Stumph.

This fine figure of pure sexual intensity is my husband.  Well on Facebook at least.  Which yes folks, it's a joke, and yes I wish I had a dollar for all the people that wonder if it's for real.  Mike and I first met in 1995, but he came to my school to beat me up in 1993, I just didn't know it.  The only reason I beleive I met him in 1995 was that he was out of gas money or running from the lawman.  Mike has lived in more places and seen more things that anyone I know.  He was truly a gypsy there for a while...  Constantly somewhere else than here, and likely doing something that by now the statute of limitations has passed over.  As I sit here trying to come up with a proper description of this jackass there are just too many things that come to mind.  I fed him a shot this summer stirred with a hotdog, the shot being a mixture of Boone's Strawberry Hill wine, Coors, and some kind of pop?  I don't know exactly but he's where I have absorbed a lot of my more troublesome habits from I am sure.  Shad's parents will agree with me.  He's punched me, he's kissed me, he has urinated on me...  Wait...  Why do I like this guy?  Anyways for years Mike pursued the sunset, the open road, the next thing, and a life experience be damned for what happens next.  He may have pursued syphilis but I'm pretty sure he failed there.  He's pursued all the wrong women, the wrong jobs, the bottom of the bottle, the fake breast, the pidgeon's breast, and a handy cure for the hangover.

With all the trouble I have gotten into with this guy, with all the parents that eyed him with suspicion, the girls that he likely lied to that wish him dead likely to this very day, this is the face of a true lifelong friend.  Sure he may pee on you this very week in a pub, and sure he might make you nervous as hell if you have a date around him, but he's a cool cat.  With all the misdirection, the road trips, the unmentionable things that I may or may not have been part of, this is a guy that truly cares.  When I'm down I know he can cheer me up.  When I need someone else's point of view, his is usually quite different and perceptive.  But make no mistake, we're pretty sure his wife is responsible for all this behavior.  If she isn't we have a real problem because re-enacting all the crap this guy did would land a you in Gitmo.  If he ever answers an automotive question, he's lying.  If you can name a cute girl from Shelley or Firth, they hate him.  But I bet if you ask his kids who their hero is, they'll name him.  He also likely bribed them to answer "You dad!"  You never can tell with this guy.

It's getting late, so will have to continue this later, maybe we can get down to some measure of worth for me...  But there are a lot of suckers left still!

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The Redneck, The Cow, The Cat, and the Lesbian.

There are many moments in your life that define who you are as a person today I believe.  Moments that will stick with you forever embedded into your very soul.  Instances and happenings that are so poigniant and clear that it helps shape you into the adult that you become for better for worse.

These aren't any of those moments.

There lies a street in Idaho Falls, a magical street.  On this street on a blisteringly hot July evening you can sit on the porch with your friend, sipping adult beverages and watch the pretty lights....  Of the police car across the street that is!  You see, Benton street off of St Clair is one of those mystical convergences of incredibly bad energy that sometimes, when the stars align just so, you can spend a whole evening just watching the neighbors getting arrested.  Where tube tops are standard issue and speaking English makes you weird.

It's hard to describe the wonderment that is this street.  I mean really, how many places can you think of that you can suntan on your porch and watch the neighbor strip the paint off his 1980 peice of shit with liquid sandpaper and a spatula?  That takes work son!  But really, I'm not here to talk about the street, or hitting golf balls down the block off the front lawn which is really just trimmed dandelions, I am here to talk about the apartment.  This apartment was about as bad as you can figure.  Each time you vaccumed you could only smell beer.  Each time you needed a dish.... Well....  You better go buy yourself a dish because instead of washing them we just put them in a box outside with the intentions of going to the carwash instead.  To this day when I drive past it I might hold my breath a little, let it out slowly and say a quick prayer of thanks for making it through the time we lived there.

Of course I am going to have to take the heat for everything that actually happened in this place.  It was afterall my place.  At a certain time in 1995 I had moved in with a girl.  I was playing house.  Now of course I understand what a terrible idea it is to do something like that, but at the time, playing house with a hot chick that had a Camaro....  Well not a bad idea.  The girl was pretty alright, we got on pretty well, and didn't really hate each other much, but we fizzled.  She moved out after about 8 months or so and I kept the place.

My friend Shad was in the mood to move out, so we met each other for pretty much the first real time as I had no idea who he really was even though he at least wanted to beat me up in highschool at least once I am sure.  But hey, when you are in your twenties and you need a roommate it's ok to forget about certain things.  He moved in, I got a job working with him at Perkins, yadda yadda time passes and Mike moves back into town.

At the time Mike was living downtown in one of those really nice apartments, you know the ones that have cockroaches big enough to talk back to you and wake you with primal screams in the middle of the night?  Mike, his clothes and his skii's moved in.  Thank god the cockroaches stayed.

It may have been the mystical convergence of the street etc, but I think it's much more likely that you take 3 bachelors that are of drinking age, that all work at a restaraunt together, live together and well, it's pretty much signs of the apocolypse after that mix.  We three nincompoops should have been jailed.  A lot.  One night while drunk as skunks driving down 17th street we almost murdered our favourite homosexual friend.  It wasn't on purpose mind you, he was crossing the street at just the same moment that Shad's head was bouncing off the window you see?  Why was his head doing that?  Oh that would be my fault again.  Mike and I had some really wonderful peices of machinery to get back and forth to work in, they were actually functioning cars, but we decided in a drunken stupor to ram each other repeatedly while going at least 35 mph down the street.  We played bumper cars.  We smashed our cars into each other at least 3-4 times, the whole time Shad's head bouncing off the window like a basketball.  Chances are that Depeche Mode or Erasure was playing at the time in my Pioneer tape deck.  The next morning while hungover we pulled the fenders out of the wheelwells so that they wouldn't flatted our tires.

This...  This is the kind of crap that we got ourselves into.  Thinking back on it all now, we all sigh, breathe in deeply and usually at the same time say how glad we are to be alive, how incredibly stupid we were, etc etc etc.  The thing is, it wasn't all bad there.  At one time a friend we worked with lost her apartment.  She needed a place to stay.  We weren't about to leave her out in the cold so we offered her a place to stay.  The deal was that she washed the walls, and did our laundry.  So she did, and all was well.  I had folded underwear for the first time in my life.  Which honestly was a little strange.  I've never understand folded undies.  Who cares if your undies are wrinkled anyways?  Mine fit me like a rubber band around an egg anyways, the wrinkles have no chance.  Also, it wasn't my idea to fart on her head, Glen did that all on his own.  She rewarded him with a sparkly sticker that read "It's fun to fart on your friends!"

We decided to have a party during the summer.  I'm not sure why, but we did that a lot.  It was a rare occasion too that we had scraped up enough money to buy both Pizza and a keg of beer.  This was exciting becuase with kegs come kegstands, and you get to chant "Chug chug chug!" over and over again while watching beer pour out of your friends noses.  Some other people had that same night gone to a pre-halloween party.  Which brings us to the cow.  Ahh the cow.  I have no idea what her name was, but that was the best costume I have ever seen to this day.  Keep your trashy skanky revealing costumes, this chick nailed it.  She was cute as a button.  It was so cool that I had to mention her in the title of this entry.

There were people from work, and people we had never met.  We actually had a coffee can or something similar and were collecting keys from folks.  We were at our worst, and our best.  That is until the episode with the cat.

I miss this cat.  He was a good cat.  His name was Buster.  He was a male Tuxedo.  He was killed in a driveby on that same street months later which was very sad, but I cared a lot for that cat.  He attacked our computer screens, and it was always fun to watch him attack Mike and Shad's gargantuan feet.  Attacking things was what he did.  On the night of this party he likely attacked a Redneck named Billy.  And in a way I can blame this on the cat, I was just following his example afterall.  Billy had shown up to the party, he wasn't invited, and even tho at least a dozen other people weren't invited he made me mad.  He made me very mad.  Not only did he show up with a Lesbian, he showed up and drank our beer and ate half a pizza.  He also wasn't a hot chick, and the only girl he brought with him had a spike hairdo with a mullet and could arm wrestle any guy there and win.  Who the hell is this guy?  Who does that?  Well, it was ok for a bit, and then he started to mess with the cat.  The cat was there, doing whatever it is that cats do at keg parties, but he was a cool cat and was likely hitting on the chicks.  Billy decides to torment and tease the cat.  My cat.  He pulled it's tail, he messed with it for a few minutes, and the whole time I was watching.  I had a Full Metal Jacket moment.  I asked him twice to please leave the cat alone.  He mumbled something incoherent a few times and I had finally had enough.  I would feel bad for what happened, but as we have justified this a few dozen times, he was warned. 

I asked him nicely to stop screwing with the cat.  He didn't.  I asked him again, he didn't.  That's when the world slowed down.  In a fit of cat defending rage I walked up to him, reached my arm back all the way to rigby and hit him.  As hard as I could.  I had to do it, I had to defend my cats honor.  I remember being shocked at what happened, and then giggling a lot.  I hit this guy so hard that he flew back a few feet and hit a closet so hard he broke the handle right off it.  We had to use a screwdrivers to access this closet in the future.  Blood pouring out of his mouth, eyes unfocused, mumbling something he finally came to, the whole time I had my mouth open not sure what I had done, or what to do next.  From the corner of the room Kim and another girl start screaming and saying oh my god the cops are going to come!  Which in reality, they didn't.   Billy's date to this party picked him up off the ground and carried him out.  Which was interesting to see by itself.

If I saw Billy today on the street I'm pretty sure that I'd let him hit me as hard as he could, but not the face man, not the face.  I do feel bad about what happened but damnit, he was messing with my cat.  I still think back on that story, and others and feel very guilty.  Guilty that I hit that guy.  Guilty about cheating at strip poker with Jen whatever her name was (even tho the other guys were cheating as well).  But in the end I feel thankful.

We do a lot of stupid crap when we are young.  We play strip poker with strange waitresses, we hit people for messing with cats.  We run over telephone distribution blocks repeatedly, we nearly kill our favourite homosexuals.

Don't we?  Yeah I didn't think so either, but we did, and we managed to live through it.

Today Shad is an outstanding Father with a freshly minted marriage.  Mike of course is paying it forward on a daily basis because we all know he's going to rot in hell, and along the way he has a beautiful wife, beautiful children and a wonderful life.  I of course, well I'm a work in progress, but I have some pretty awesome friends.  And the fact that we never did anything that bad, or that heinous to land ourselves in really hot water, or get caught for the things that we did that were that bad....  Well I guess that means that we weren't nearly as bad as I remember sometimes.  I'm thankful that I lived in such a shithole for that time of my life because honestly, it was a real good time.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Truth and lies about dating...


You know....  For as long as I can remember I haven't been that comfortable in the whole dating arena.  I mean lets face it, dating is hard.  You meet someone, you get set up with someone, so and so brought someone to a BBQ that they thought you should meet and it's pretty much the most uncomfortable feeling.

At least for a few seconds.

People in my experience aren't really huge fans of putting themselves into awkward situations that they have little control over.  I know I sure wasn't when I first started to get back into the dating scene.  I mean really, why would I want to be in that situation willingly where it feels like I just had my beer spiked with Visene and Jay ninja punched my throat?  Well, it's mainly not my fault. 

It's the women.

Ok, maybe it's not the women, but seriously, dating, habitually dating, pro-dating as I did for a time this summer or even just the "Good god I need to go on a date, just to see if I still can handle it!" date is hard stuff folks.

Dating is hard, that's for sure, BUT! there are things that make it worth the work!  I have evidence to support my theories and lets have a little share share time.

To protect his name, I will not name him....  There's no truth to the guy in this tale being named Mike, and the fact that one of me best guy friends names is Mike.  So if you think this is Mike Stumph, well, you can just go on thinking that if you want, but you might be wrong.


Mikey, Shadly PQ, and Myself had headed out on the town one evening with the usual bunch.  The usual bunch is of course those that we at the time were able to safely surround ourselves with, and between the majority at least could scrape up bail money in the event that someone may or may not have been flapping their arms like a chicken while going down Broadway on the back of Shad's bulletbike.  (So wasn't me, I'm not sure who that guy was, but I'm a lot more responsible than that.)  But, in case you ever do find yourself in that situation, the correct response to the police officer's question "Do you know why I pulled you over?" is "Yes sir, because he is acting like a total clown."  (Again, not me, some other person did that, I as a motorcycle owner know much better than to behave in such a manner.)

The amazing thing with this bunch of hooligans, nincompoops, and long haired hippy-types is that we never really amounted to much trouble.  Mainly because women are smarter than men in all areas, and only talk to men out of scientific need, and a strange sense of self loathing that is defined in the phrase "Women like fixer-uppers."  I know this phrase is the lord's truth, because some of my friends managed to marry themselves with women that are way way wayyyyy out of their league, and really it's the only thing that makes sense.  If it isn't true then I take it all back, and the women are stupid.

So we have this gaggle of weirdos, and I don't even know for sure where we were as I was likely not paying that close of attention, or I may have thought that at the time I was posessed by a chicken, we may never know, and we run into a few girls that we had been kicking it with.  Kicking it with means they had allowed us to be near them, hadn't thrown up yet from drinking too much, or perhaps had really really low IQ's.  In this case we are going with low IQ, it is afterall a story about Mikey.

I was immune from this story due to a few reasons.  The majority of the girls there were blonde, and if you know me, I am afraid of blonde haired girls.  They are scarey.  One girl in particular was described by "Mike" as "The Bomb".  There was a time that "The Bomb" was a very descriptive term for Mike, but now we know that before he married up this was actually an intellectual term to him.  Now I'm not going to lie.  This girl was cute.  She was actually pretty hot.  I'm sure that Mike drugged her with horse tranquillizers or something nastier to even get her talking to him but all you could see in his face was a sure ticket to la la land while Mikey kicked his game to this girl that was a bomb.

I think her name was Brittany.  But it doesn't really matter, for the sakes of this tale she shall be named "Hot Girl"

So Mikey decides to plan a date with this girl and take her and.....  Amy?  Someone else and a date to Lava Hot Springs in his Jalopy.  Jalopy is a kind term in referring to a car that is owned by Mikey.  This was a pristine Mercury Sable, or something equally as terrible with 4 doors and a drivetrain that howled like Ellingford boozed up on cough syrup listening to Judas Priest in Grendel.  (Jay is ammo for more stories, we will get to him in due time.)  So they hop in the jalopy and make tracks to Lava Hot Springs.  I'm surprised that they even got as far as Blackfoot to be honest, where he stole the gas money from is still a mystery!

And there I was.  Sitting at home likely wrapped up in a towel since I was too lazy to get dressed likely playing some damn video game and eating 4 day old pizza next to the wall of shame when the phone rang. 

(phone rings, I finally answer)  "Hello?  What?  Where?  Uhh...  Yeah I guess...  I'll be there soon.  Yep.  Go to hell, bye."

The call had been made.  You see, for some strange reason I am that guy.  I'm that guy you call when your car stops working and you want some free advice form someone that doesn't even work on cars (I'm a BOAT MECHANIC you ASSHOLES) and I do the best I can with what I have learned being blessed with common sense when it comes to mechanical things, a sense that Mike was born without.  His eyes are spaced properly so I know it isn't fetal alchohol syndrome, but if you want to see a car destroyed, let this guy have it for a while!

With a couple quarts of oil (after much badgering I finally was able to get Mr. Hellen Keller to figure out what a dipstick looked like, and I am also positive that one of the girls showed him what it was) I toss on some shades, and hop on the V-Max to zip down the highway on a bald tire to feed this car oil.  Yes folks, there he is, on his date, trying to be all romantic with Hot Girl and his car died.  Because it had no oil in it.  God bless Ford for making a car that can still run in the heat of summer with only fumes that used to be oil in the engine.  After I show up, bugs palstered to my face in all my glory, I pour in two quarts, we stop and buy at least one more and the jalopy is running.  What did I get out of this trip?  a REALLY bad cheeseburger and bugs in my teeth.  Tho I did rescue Mikey on his date, which I think eventually turned out in his favor for at least a little while. 

You see, dating me, people I have lived with, or people I have known for over 15 years is at the very least dangerous ladies.  That was a tame story, and it also happened many years ago.  But times really haven't changed much either.  The selection has just thinned some.  We are currently down to Todd, Myself, and I am sure that Casey would also part with Mike if she was asked.  The dating has just changed some is all.  Mainly us.

Let's be honest.  I'm not the fine figure of a man that I was pre-marriage, or even wall of shame days.  I'm greying out my hair, and my athletic prowess is mostly based on grunting while trying to tie my shoes, (or even reach them) and watching a tendon slowly peel off my left knee.  My glory days of being in shape consist of perhaps one summer where I was able to go up 1 flight of stairs before feeling like barfing my lungs out.  Sure sure... the grey hair.... makes you look all distinguished.  Really?  I think it makes me look prematurely old actually!  And now?  NOW I have to date?

Hmm ok, so lets see here.... Moderate to low self esteem... Check.... Not a lot of money.... Check....  All my friends are married or with children.... Check!  Alright then, to hell with it, I'll just to ask a girl out, screw it!  I can do this!

Here's what I think.  I think that there is a tiny little elf, demon, muse, whatever following me around poking me with a magic stick to do stupid things.  I'm also pretty sure that if cast in a movie, this imp would be played by Jon Peirsol.  (Also, will get to him at a later time)

But hey, you can't get ahead in the relationship department if you don't try right?  So I try.  I go to the bank.  There is cute girl.  I see cute girl.  I muster.  Mustering for me takes a lot, but for some reason I mustered on the spot and actually point blank cold case asked this girl out for dinner.

What really sucked is that she said yes.  If she had said no, well I could have avoided the whole thing and just moved ahead as if nothing ever happened, but.... Then we wouldn't have.....  Wait for it......  Wait for it....  "Barnes and Noble Girl"  Ahhh finally, I named my pain.

Barnes and Noble girl was quite pretty.  Dark dark long straight hair, beautifully skinny legs with high heels, white hosey and a business type skirt.  I'm a sucker for that crap.  I don't know why, but hey it worked on me, and it always does.  I took her to Olive Garden with the hopes of getting her as drunk as I could off of wine so that she might actually find my conversation interesting, or in case it all went bad she might just chalk it all up to a bad hangover and not tell all her friends about what a nut I was.

She had other plans....

Instead I spent 50 bucks on dinner, and got a diatribe history over the course of an hour and a half about her ex-husband, her ex-boyfriend, and what gigantic douchebags they were.  She really did spend the whole time other than a brief period talking about her job rehashing the misery and unfulfilled love that she has had in her life with me, over dinner, on my nickel, drinking the wine, and eating the salad.

Oh....  My..... God.....

She just wouldn't stop.  Needless to say when the meal was over I feigned an emergency phonecall, something I have to go do for my parents, etc and got the holy shit out of there.  But..... apparently I was a good listener.  She called back the next day saying what a great time she had and if I'd like to go out again.


But seriously folks...  She was so pretty.  Sooooooo pretty.  If this girl was a motorcycle she'd be a Ducati Desmo, or if she was a Coffee she'd be an endless Caramel Mocha.  Which is fitting because as her name suggests, the coffee house is where this story ends.  Of course there was NO WAY I was going to feed this woman again.  I mean really.  You spent the whole night talking about ex's etc and want MORE FOOD?  Noway.  So I, keeping in mind how incredibly hot and delish she was, agreed to have coffee with her at Barnes and Noble.  She asked me to bring my motorcycle because she hadn't ever ridden on one before.  ZING!  A girl on the back of my bike....  That's like.... Proof that I don't suck totally right?  So we go to coffee.

And she does it all again.

It was a repeat of the night before...  she had a really bad day, or whatever and I was smack dab back in the same place I was 20 hours before listening to the same thing come out of this torturously hot females lips.

I snapped.  I snapped like a twig.  And I completely came unglued.

It wasn't so much I think about the 50 bucks, I mean, I did actually get to be seen in public with someone a lot prettier than me, so hey that's nice.  And honestly I am pretty good at doing the wrong thing, or putting up with something I don't like for way too long, but I lost it anyways.  I started to rant.  When I start ranting it's like the depths of hell open up and all the bad intentions of man and beast come shooting forth out of my mouth like Rosie O'Donnel coughing up a rotten peice of ham.  I ranted, I raved, I spewed forth curses.  Then I left.

And damnit I left my coffee sitting there on the table.  Those suckers are like 5 bucks you know?  But before I made it completely away from the tables there was a shining light.  5 or so tables away, a complete stranger, and I'd like to name him Ralph, stood up and started to clap loudly.  While clapping she said "Yeeeeahyah, that's what I'm talkin bout".

Bless you Ralph.  I will always love you.

But I'm still pissed about leaving my coffee there.

Zach went on a date.

Ahh the joy of dating!  Those of us that have either :

A.  Divorced
B.  Unmarried

Who also fit into the category of :

A.  Over 30 years of age
B.  Don't enjoy being a hermit/hermitess ( Hermitess?  ahh hell, just go with it. )

May or may not be able to relate to the stories that are mine, but I can bet at least once you have feared of the following happening to you.  You see, in my opinion dating is one of God's best jollies.  He has just got to get a kick out of watching us do it.  After talking to a few others that are suffering from the stigmata of being single at my age-ish I know I am not alone in my pain.  One friend made my mouth hang open just reading what she typed in a chat window.  I actually wanted to drive to her house, and hold her tight whispering in her ear that yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. 

One of the things that I get a kick out of are all the dating websites etc. that exist these days.  Here's a tidbit of truth for those of you that aren't in the know.  These sites are bad mmmkay?  They truly are.  Sure you may have a friend that you know about or whatever...  I don't care.  What I am about to tell you is the truth as I know it.  One fellow I know, whom shall remain nameless has used a particular website a few times.  And sure, if he had found true love there I wouldn't be telling this story now would I?  Well, he didn't find love there, but yes, he did find sex.  He found it several times.  That meaning more than 5 times.  The kicker?  From what I have been told, it's an understood thing.  One woman didn't even care to go through the pretext of dinner and conversation and just said she had a place, and they could go there.

Well now that's just plain scary.

And the details of these encounters.  You post a picture, you describe yourself in whatever words are deemed needed, one of which is what build you are.  The choices were something like this :

A.  Athletic
B.  Fit
C.  Average
D.  A little junk in the trunk
E.  Pleasantly Plump

I know what I say now needs not be said but...  People on the internetz LIE.  They lie about being married, they lie about their education, they lie about anything that they feel like lying about because seriously?  Who cares when all you are wanting is to hook up with some random stranger and have meaningless relations.  What makes me die a little inside is the fact there there are some real people out there trying to find real love on these sites.  God bless you if you do.  But be honest to yourself about what you are going to have to sift through in the meantime.

I of course have not used a dating website, tho I have joked a time or two that perhaps I should, just to be able to tell the story of how it went.  The reason that I would think this is the same reason that I have a story about just about every single date I have had since I got divorced.  People are damn crazy. 

The 30-something dating scene is perhaps the most bizarre thing I have had the chance to experience in my life.  I'm not going to compare it with dying, or getting divorced, but it's a lot more like being strapped to a gourney and someone lighting your left ass cheek on fire while you are fully conscious, putting it out, relighting it, videotaping it and sending copies to every member of the opposite sex that you secretly yearn for in the no one can know part of your brain.

Well no, it isn't that bad...

It's more like having yourself strapped to a gourney, having both ass cheeks set on fire, doused with chili sauce, re-lit, videotaped, and then published on Youtube.  Throw in a posting of said video to your facebook profile and you're close.

Ok ok... So there's some good parts.  I have had the luck to date one woman for an extended amount of time, and it was pretty fun.  It ended in no small part to my own actions, but it was good.  But I'm not here to tell that story, I'm here to tell these stories...

Date #1  The Midget.

Not to make light of anyones physical deformities.  There's nothing wrong with being short.  Honest.  However, me and mine (meaning the jackasses that I call friends) have a tendancy to refer to members of the opposite sex by a nickname.  This is allowed.  I know it's allowed because I also know that girls do it also, I can cite sources from numerous girls I know, and don't know, but did  fact-finding mission and asked complete strangers just that.

So yes, she is referred to as "The Midget".  As those that are in the vertically challenged lifestyle react to me the next time I see you, please understand that this girl wasn't just short.  She was a damn monster.  A short little monster woman.  With the ghost of Hitler, and other bad ghosts inside her.  Really bad people.  Icky people.

I had spent a meal scooched up to the counter at a local restaraunt (yeah right... like the truckstop is a restaraunt)  trading single life woes back and forth with an old girl friend.  A few weeks pass and I get a text message from her saying that she had a friend that wanted to know if she had any single guy friends that perhaps she could be set up with.  Now... I would have said no anyways, as I had not yet even been on a date since getting divorced but she railroaded me.  I was to meet this girl at 10:00 p.m. at Denny's for "coffee".

Wow...  now this should have been a warning, I know... But I know what it's like to be stood up, and honestly, I didn't want to be "that guy".  I was told that she was "short" and "blonde" and that was all I had to go on.  Not much I know, and inside I know that my old friend is still lauging her ass off at my expense, even tho she has assured me more than once that she meant nothing by it.  So there I was...  Sitting alone, waiting for short blonde girl to appear when out of the corner of my eye I see this little person.  She introduces herself and my gut said "Hey Zach, this is your gut...  BTW you are so not going to enjoy this" and I should have ran.  I should have ran fast.  I should have ran so fast that I had a cardiac episode that recquired the administering of some kind of mind wipe drug.  But I did not do this, and instead like a gentleman made nice and chit chatted with this little hellspawned demon thing.  In her defense, maybe I am that bad too, but damnit this is my story, so you will hear my side.

First I was informed of the 140,000 dollars that she had made illegally street racing cars.  This made no sense whatsoever to me.  How does someone make that much money street racing cars and be ok with driving a 1990 Mitsubishi piece of shit?  Mystery number one!

Second she asked me why I bought the motorcycle I did with the added proclomation of "You should have bought a Ducati, those are fast, I used to race them!"  It was at this magical moment that alarms began to ring, lights began to flash, and I started to get all sweaty like a fat kid caught stealing candy at the store.  Now honestly, how does someone who isn't as tall as the average 4th grader manage to even hold up an Italian racing motorcycle?  Did she mount the thing like the Lone Ranger?  And if I am that stupid why did I bother to show up on the fastest production motorcycle ever made?  ( I bought it for the color, serious )

You mix these things up a few times, throw in numerous "F-Bombs" that she used to accentuate juuuuust about anything that she was talking about and needless to say I needed to make an exit.  I don't know what I said to finally draw this date to a close but I walked her out to her car and said goodbye.  After she left the parking lot, tourettes manifested.  I must have looked like the villiage idiot there in the Denny's parking lot muttering to myself just about every obscenity I have ever learned, and a few that I must have made up on the spot.  I tossed a leg over my slow ass motorcycle and proceeded down Lindsey Boulevard towards Broadway.  Midway to Broadway I lost it.  I snapped.  There I was, staring at the speedometer on my bike making sure I wasn't speeding since I was downtown and I started to scream.  I screamed like both asscheeks were on fire.  I screamed a few words so loud that I know if there would have been a pedestrian on the sidewalk they would have ducked for cover. 

This date was so painful that I couldn't even sleep.  I was so disgruntled and disenchanted altogether that I couldn't find the will to function until I shared the story with someone.  I'm pretty sure that my brother was the first, but after telling it a few times it got easier.  The Midget even somehow conned my friend into asking about me, and after meeting him for a beer after work on the pretense that "Someone here wants to meet you" the very next day.  I was horrified.  It was like a zit you can't manage before a prom date.  The 4 foot nothing demoness was playing pool in a tube top, with 4 inch-ish wooden platworm sandals strutting around giving me lascivous looks asking me, "What do I get if I win?  I want a kiss!"  Well, I replied "You win!  No kiss!"  And finally, I think it ended.

Weeks later her friend that set me up shared what The Midget had gleaned from me.  "He is so still not over his ex, that's why he hasn't called."

Yep.  That's why I didn't call.  You nailed it demon midget lady troll thing.