which was my 40th birthday. The BIG Four Oh! As in "Oh, you're 40 and not married? What's wrong with you?"
And my friends, as awesome as they are, kept setting me up on blind dates, but I never seemed to click with any of the women. Pretty women, short women, tall women, rough women, successful women, lazy women - I dated them all and more often than not, they just weren't interested in me.
I think I probably went on twenty or so dates that never resulted in a a single follow up date.
But two months before my birthday, I started dating two women and both fledgling relationships seemed like they were going somewhere as they were getting really, really serious. I couldn't choose one, but I didn't care. I just couldn't believe they were into me. Okay, maybe they weren't the best looking, but I was so desperate for a wife, and I'm definitely no prize myself.
With a few weeks to go before my birthday, I knew I had to act if I had any hope of being married. I bought two rings and proposed to them both (on separate nights, of course) and they both said no. In fact, though they never knew of each other, I went from two good things to both of them not returning my calls. I guess proposing in a mall food court (for Jenny) or down on my knees in front of the bathroom at a minor league baseball game (Susan) were not my best laid plans, doomed to fail. Or maybe I just reeked of desperation.
So the morning of my birthday, I was practically in tears, deep in depression as I knew I missed my deadline. But my friends came though, kind of. They took me out bar hopping and then we all went back to my place where they had a stripper waiting in my favorite chair. She got up, sat me down, and gave me a grinding lap dance. She said nothing, but after a minute, stopped, turned around, looked me in the eye and said "one." Then she started up again, stopped after a minute, turned around and said "two..."
This went on all night until she got to "forty."
It's been a few months now, and I'm not too sad. My friends really tried to get me married, and after two near mrs, I guess it was the thot that counts.
When Harry Met Salad
What About Ke-Bob
Cumin to America
Weekend at Bearneaise II
Steakin I, II, & III
A Few Good Salmon
You’ve Got Kale
Shawshank Re-Dim Sum
Romancing the Scone
An Éclair to Remember
Roman Hollandaise
Glazed and Confused
Bill & Ted’s Eggcellent Adventure
The Evil Bread
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Shrimp
Fondue the Right Thing
Ribeyes Wide Shut
Mignons
Plante of the Grapes
Spider Manchu
Sushis All That
A Wok to Remember
Marsala-la Land
Apocalypse Cow
Die Chard
Die Chard with a Vinaigrette
Hogan’s Gyros
The Sand Latkes
A League of their Macaroni
Revenge of the Curds
Rush S’More
Braising Arizona
Demolition Ham
10 Things I hate About Ewe
Saladin
Oliver and Com-penne
Dirty Rotten Chanterelles
Sex and the Satay
The Truth About Cats & Hotdogs
Morella Enchanted
Provolone Together
Clear and Pheasant Danger
The Big Chili
Lémon: The Professional
Ava-Tartare
Hocous Pocous
High Fi-Deli Meat
Madagascargot
The Fifth Elementos
Muensters Inc.
There’s Something About Rosemary
I Am Ham
Quiche Lorraine Man
Barley & Me
Lentil Giants
Peggy Soufflé Got Married
Face Stroganoff
Con Gruyére
Fast Times at Porridgemont High
Bok Choys in the Hood
Papillonion
Requinoa for a Dream
Serial Cardamom
Dad and I walk into minor hockey league stadium. He sees the Chuck-A-Puck booth, stops me and say "if we move up to the big leagues they'll change the name to Charles-A-Puck".
My brain couldn't decide if I should laugh or just roll my eyes so I did neither and just stared blankly. It did not phase him.
