Stripper-ific Drunk E-Harmony Messaging and Rejection!

Remember that old dumb game to derive your stripper name? First pet name + first street you lived on? Mine would be AppleHead College. Which isn’t really going to get me anywhere fast. Anyhow, my boyfriend’s brother found out his best friend’s little sister has an internet porn site. It isn’t a very good one. I guess Marcus found out that this girl has an alias, Candi M., and so, like a good 21st century digital boy, he Googled it and lo and behold. The friend does not know. And Marcus has no intention of telling him because the guy will go all kinds of crazy. I want to anonymously write Candi M. and tell her she might want to consider some kind of artistic director. For example, maybe don’t wear a stained jean jacket while half-naked in the backyard? I might also consider removing the tag from the inside of the see-through undies. That is me, anyhow.

 

The internet is a crazy, mixed-up place. I think sometimes it can be wonderful and I can find recipes for strawberry jello-and-pretzel salad and reconnect with people who knew me during the banana-clip phase. But you also come across weird things. Dark things. And then there’s that thing about losing touch with human-kind. Many of my friends have gotten signed up with sites like e-Harmony and the like. And then one of them got drunk e-Harmony messaged. What happened to the good old-fashioned drunk dial? I wouldn’t trust myself drunk in front of this thing. I suspect these things do so well because rejection seems slightly less terrible online. We are slowly growing all soft and losing our coping skills.

 

Still, I know the sting of rejection. It happened just last week in tap. We were supposed to all pair up and practice this new move. Everyone but me had a partner—even Unibrow Cosby-sweater—and so this nice old math teacher took pity on me and asked me to join him and his partner and it was nice but I felt so damn dissed! If the mulleted woman with the sports bra and camel toe were there, I’m sure she’d have asked me.

 

My friend goes on all these service calls to god-forsaken places like Bakersfield. He made friends with some lady named Sunshine who asked him to dinner one night which was great until he realized she wanted a baby-daddy for the three rugrats she had at home. He saw her a week or two ago and she asked him to dinner as usual, but he told her he couldn’t…he had to get home in time to vote. That is a new and original rejection that I think must be used sparingly.

 

Ugh. So I was sick a bit ago and I mean sick-sick. Like for two weeks. I thought I had the strep and so I went to the doctor who looked at my throat and groaned and took a culture but said it wasn’t strep. “Just some weird viral thing. Swish with this Magic Mouthwash,” (yes, that’s its scientific name) “and don’t eat for a couple days…don’t worry it won’t kill you.” Ouch. It didn’t kill me but it made my throat shed which is something new to me. I don’t honestly care to repeat that again. Pieces of you should not fall off.

 

So Wayne sent me this link to the 90-day Jane blog (http://90dayjane.blogspot.com/) which is basically a chronicle of the 90 days before this gal Jane offs herself. She hasn’t picked a method yet and she isn’t exactly depressed, but she wants to exercise her right to kill herself if she pleases. My knee-jerk reaction was…what an asshole. Give me a freakin’ break, you lunatic. And then I really gave it thought and decided she was sort of brilliant. Well, assuming this is a social experiment and not really some poor girl’s suicide blog. Because…if you read the comments people leave on her blog (and there are SO many) you’ll see this incredible range of reaction. Of course some are sympathetic. Some want to exploit this by asking for an interview. And others are (big surprise!) hateful and lame and suggest good and creative ways to kill herself. Lots of people suggest she do a shit-load of drugs and have lots of unprotected sex because, well, if you’re already at day 83, what does it matter? I kind of suspect it’s a reflection of the sort of vapid people who troll the internet (and I am guilty as charged) more than anything else. I mean, these people are who make this newsworthy:

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