Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Chemistry.com Part 5: Got Emotions?
No, I don't. I'm a robot. As is the case with Ryan Seacrest, new battery packs are inserted regularly into the spot where my spine should be. At night, my roommate hits the "off" button and stores me in the closet with the ironing board and dead hookers. Do I have emotions? Is that your tag line, buddy? Really?
After his headline, Captain Obvious tries to reassure his readers: "Don't think that I am weak, I am in a career that the weak get gobbled up." He also says, "There are many other layers, but you'll just have to find out."
Testy. Testy. One, two, three. Why would I think a total stranger is weak, and why would I care, honestly? I have nothing with which to venture a guess about this man's character, other than his defensiveness out of the gate, and his unwillingness to provide more details. I don't think I'll be finding out, as he suggests. I will just leave this tough, "stocky" guy alone.
I think it's bitter day at chemistry.com (and yes, I see the irony in that statement). Next up is a senior consultant who tells us about himself and then launches into this little tirade: "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away. That's not what women want to hear. They want to hear about 20 inch rims on a new truck or about how I have so much money that I don't need to work..."
I could give two sh*ts about your chrome or your SUV. Are women really this materialistic? If so, I apologize on behalf of my gender because, while it's nice to have someone who takes care of me, love is never about money. Who hurt you? Your luggage is heavier than the 50 pounds allotted. You'll have to pay that extra $15 at LAX at the ticket counter. We'll just say our farewells at the security gate. Moving right along...
...to "the desert rat," whom I am sure also has a truck, but with much smaller rims. He's looking for a good "lab assistant."
Oh dear. I guess the person who answers this call will have to agree to trek through the cacti into the middle of nowhere for some good old-fashioned experimentin'. I will bring the goggles I swiped from 7th grade shop class. You bring the microscope, slides and samples of whatever bacteria you plan to magnify (and spread?). Sounds like a swell date. Show me your Petri dish and I'll show you mine.
Tom "believes in karma" and "caramel."
Cute little play on words. Too bad I don't like caramel. Dark chocolate or bust.
He's "sarcastic" (bonus!) and "goofy" (I can hang with goofy) and has a "head full of useless trivia."
I see he was part of that dating profile drum circle I mentioned previously. It's an epidemic!
He wants a "girly girl" who "can also fend off an attack by angry ninjas. After all, angry ninjas are hiding everywhere."
I like this guy's sense of humor, but I don't really think of myself as a "girly girl," but if I came across a group of angry ninjas, I'd probably cry like one (a girl, not a ninja).
Wait, I thought zombies were hiding everywhere, not ninjas. At least that's what David Sedaris tells me, and I have to go with David on this one because, well, just because. Sorry, man.
I'm not sure what to think about Ed, whose first sentence is, "I am willing to move for the right person."
I have some advice for Ed about his desperate eagerness to open his dating pool to any woman in the continental United States. Be sure the person you fall for lives somewhere you are going to fit in. Take it from me. If he's not careful, one day he will find his Mission Viejo-bred butt in the land of humidity and rednecks, where there's rampant racism and a mindblowing lack of saltwater (Cough. The South. Cough. Cough.). Worse yet, it will be easier to find Waldo in Little Five Points than a decent margarita anywhere in the Land of Confederate Flags, one that doesn't leave a cheap after-taste reminiscent of sulfuric acid. There are plenty of lovely women in California and plenty of scrumptious Cadillacs on the rocks with salt here. Think locally, my friend.
That's my advice for the day.
The Grammar Nazi