I know I've not been a very good Christian. Or much of anything, for that matter. Yeah, I stopped going to church back in college. And I have many, many dark thoughts these days - mostly directed at other commuters here in DC. (And the White House.) And now, you're punishing me, aren't you? You're being all Catholic God and vengeful and pissed that it's been, like, 34 years or so since my last (and only) Confession, right?
How about this - I'll go to Midnight Mass this year for Christmas. I'll sing and pray and kneel and all that. But, God? Just one thing, okay?
Please, oh please, oh please, let this year end now!!
Here at the Radio Ranch, I'm still feeling sick, I'm still feeling wobbly, my eyeglasses are still clogging the toilet (despite the $15 I spent on a toilet auger tonight), and I just about started to sob when I looked around and realized how much I have to do before Friday. I will feel better about the world once I'm feeling better physically, but for now, I feel a little defeated.
I'm waiting for my laundry to finish up and figured I should check my e-mail.
Big mistake. Biiiiiig freaking mistake.
I just got a "wink" from some guy on this dumb dating site I signed up on ages ago, mostly for my amusement. A "wink" is a way for members to express their interest in you. The only date I went on with anyone from the site was a year ago. The guy showed up for coffee, told me he was an alcoholic ("but I only drink a coupla times a week!"), taking a couple of anti-depressants and an anti-anxiety drug, and had an ex-wife with a hording disorder. That was the first five minutes. He then went off to the bathroom, came back and said, "Oh, I figured you would have left after I told you all that. Hahahah..." Eek.
So, from the same place that offered me that option, I present the "wink" message I received tonight, unedited for your horror and amusement:
"I am 6'-0" tall and I weigh 190 lbs. I have a short haircut for job safety reasons, and I have 5 tattoos and no piercings. I am a crematory operator, so I spend most of my day with the dead. I am a very passionate, if not neurotic, nerdy guy. When I am not burning dead bodies, I am making leather and sewing costuming stuff for the Medieval and Renfaire and Fetish folks. I have a suit of EPIII Clone Trooper armor and an officer's uniform from SW as well. I had a vasectomy at age 19. I never want children. Or anybody else's. Ever."
Ahhh, classic TMI, TMI, TMI. But he's right up there with the guy who showed up for our one date ever with red splotches all over his pants. He'd told me was a detective with a local police force.
Turns out, he picked up bodies for a coroner's office in Southern Maryland. He bagged, tagged, and lugged the dead for the police. But he had a fake police badge! (Nice.) Charmingly, he hadn't changed clothes after dealing with a car crash before driving up to DC to meet me at some happy hour-ish place at Dupont. He simply told me as I stared at his stains, "Oh, this? Eh, it's corpse blood. If ya date me, you'll get used to it! I washed my hands, so it's cool." When I went to the bathroom to dry heave, he started to hit on other women in the bar. I came out, told the ladies to be sure to ask him about the "corpse blood" and I left.
I think it's clear. I'm never going on a date ever again.
Somebody buy me a nice friendly cat - STAT!