Masters of Crazy

WARNING: A lot of people were eliminated from this list because of reasons that will become evident soon enough.

Well, thanks accidentally to John’s recent e-mail response to my Valentines Day cynical tirade, I figured it all out. Well, some of it. I still don’t know who I am and I don’t know what to do with this information, but here’s what I learned. John asked how old this chick was and said that it sounded like high school bullshit. And he’s right, it does. Only it’s not. This chick has her masters, owns a house and has a job and everything. (OK, I just had to go back and delete like another 20 addresses to protect her anonymity and my ass – consider yourself the privileged few. Either my good, trusted friends or third rate acquaintances so far removed from my life that you can cause no harm)

So let’s recap. The last three college grads I dated, who all also have masters, for whatever the hell that’s worth, have the following rap sheet: One lied and told me she was two weeks late to basically avoid going out with me because she was too afraid to tell me she was seeing somebody else. Whatever happened to “I have a headache?” I guess that was too bland for her. Another got upset that I was seeing somebody else after she told me she just wanted to be friends, mostly because I was still nice to her after she turned me down. And I swear to you all, that’s it. I didn’t fool around with both of them at the same time or anything to honestly be held accountable for in the normal human plane of emotionally stable existence. And then there’s the third. Well, we should all know what happened there. Beelzebabe reared her ugly head and spewed forth bullshit from her eyes, whilst her alter ego, “The Ultimate Quizmaster” set up impossible hurdles for me to stumble over so she could still maintain her self-respect if the relationship went sour. Damn! I don’t want to shit on everybody’s slurpee here, but I just hit a bad case of apples here. Deal with my cynicism. It’s funnier than contentment. And now the second part of the equation. Think about the last non-college graduate I dated. Steph. She was awesome and not a day goes by when I don’t wish we could still hang out (didn’t know I was going here either – and I just had to delete another 8 people. But I also put one back on). But she went and graduated and moved to another country, so that rules her out now anyway. Conclusion? Don’t date college graduates. So I need to stick to the college chicks that everybody gives me shit for chasing around. Or the drop-outs. I don’t know about that yet, but I’ll try anything once. Maybe even twice just to make sure I don’t like it. But the point stands. I need to find em young and brainwash them before they inevitably get all fucked up. Shit, I’m tired of deleting names. I’m just gonna suck up those last few comments and take it on the chin.

While I’ve got all these names deleted, I’m going to do one of the quotes that doesn’t exactly put me in a great light. I was at the post office and I needed Mike to go into my bag to get my checkbook to pay for whatever. He reaches in the bag and one particular compartment happened to contain my addressbook, my checkbook and condoms. I now realize how funny that combination of items is, but Mike thought to point it out to me…

Quote of the Day 2/17/05

“Dude, you have your addressbook, condoms and a checkbook all in the same compartment? What’s in this one, a shot of penicillin?”

-Mikey McWawa

Actually, I’m allergic to penicillin. It’s alpha-phenoxyethyl potassium. And don’t look that up. I’m not sure that’s right.

Thank God for porn,

D Wreck.

Still Standing Right Here…

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