Yeah, I know it’s been a while since I have posted. The good news for you: I have been out and about observing the failures of life.

This particular story stars the craziest of all crazies. I have been very apprehensive about posting this but the time has come. This girl shall remain nameless but here are the facts.

1. She is a 10.
2. She thinks I’m the cat’s pajamas
3. I’m taking my life in my own hands by posting this.

It started as a simple date. Good times, a few drinks (she has a good fake) and some rocky conversation.

Reminder: she is hot; there is no need for her to be smart.

As we struggle through dinner it becomes very apparent that this girl has never worn a pair of Jack Rogers sandals and has never been forced to listen to one of her own horrible stories. I’m pretty sure that a gift card from Rave would ensure a life time of blowjobs.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

At about 8 PM I arrive at her place. This house is amazing, complete with brass lions at the end of the driveway. Her family must be loaded and bought this house for her to live in.

 Nope, her parents’ house. (Fail Count 1)

 She jumps in the truck , and as we drive uptown, I suggest a few restaurants.

“What are you in the mood for, babe?”

 Before I can finish the question she basically yells, “OUTBACK!” (Fail Count 2) 

Are you fucking kidding me? This is what she picks? This may be a good time to swing by the mall and pick up that Rave gift card. I bite my tongue and head for the Outback. All I can think is that I’m going to run into that poor family that eats out “nice” every Friday.

You know the family. Dad orders a Fosters. Mom gets a glass of Sutter Home. The three kids share a chicken finger basket. I hate that family. Come on, you know the family I’m talking about. Right?

 HA! Trick question. If you know anyone like that chances are you are poor too. I was simply referring to the people I saw on the commercial. Get your poor eyes off my blog.

Back to the story, now that we have gotten rid of the imposters (outlet shoppers).

 We get our food and she immediately puts her gum on the side of her plate. If I could have killed myself right then and there with a dinner roll, I would have. I spend the next hour watching her twirl her hair and talk about “modeling”. As she took her last bite I signal for the check. I pay, we leave. I drop her off.

 End of story right? Not a chance.

 I begin to get random calls from numbers I don’t know asking me why I won’t answer Date’s call. I should have known better than to answer numbers I don’t recognize. No good comes of them. They are either calling about money you owe or to tell you that you are a father (which leads to money you owe).

 Fast forward seven months. I get a note from my ex-girlfriend’s sister. Not weird, we are great friends. My date has just “friended” my ex on Facebook and started commenting on her pictures. One week later I get another note with a screen shot. My date is now following my ex on Twitter.

 I think I may be dealing with Swim Fan here. I lock my doors. I warn the girls I am friends with. This girl may want to wear my ass as a hat.

 I have learned something from this situation though. Perhaps you could say I have grown up a little. From now on, I’m talking every time, when meet a girl in a high school parking lot, I’m giving her a fake name until I know she hasn’t spent time in a mental hospital.