A Bachelor's Blog.

Adventures in dating.

The Krishna Collision.

Posted by todd Wed, 04 Jan 2006 06:15:00 GMT



Oh how I love the holidays.

The large crowds. The insane drivers, striving to get that soon to open parking spot. The buying of crap that nobody, even yourself would want. All beautiful... but lets not forget the true meaning of Christmas!

I'm sure you know what I'm thinking.

Hellstone and Brimfire people!!! There isn't any better way to spread the word of god than to stand on a street corner screaming like a crackhead. Then again, if you are standing on a corner screaming about god sending others to hell... you were a crackhead at some point. If they are going to stand around yelling, they should just tell the truth. Come to mass tomorrow! All the other reformed heroin addict born agains will be there! Bring your money!

Ok, perhaps that was a bit much, but openly mocking bible thumpers needs to be done. I'm just "blessed" enough to find them on a weekly basis outside my apartment window.

Don't get me wrong, this doesn't make me angry.

I thrive on it.

Do you realize how hard it is for a bunch of screaming freaks to maintain composure when they have laser pointers beamed on their foreheads?

Can there be anything more fun than yelling out your own versions to the "Jesus wants you to (blah blah blah)" speech? "Jesus Wants You To SHUT UP", was particularly well received by the drunkards.

Anyway, I had a party of sorts at my apartment, which was interrupted by screaming bible thumpers outside...the results did not go in their favor.

When it comes mocking drug addicts, The Krishna's had our alcoholic backs.

Suddenly, from around the corner, the Krishna karaeoke posse came into view. If you've ever seen "The Warriors", you have seen similar confrontations. Let me explain.

Three bible thumpers, clearly having strayed from their turf of poor neighborhoods and suburban areas with large drug abusing populations, find themselves in the Gaslamp, struggling to get home.

As any good group of thumpers would do, they looked to Jesus to find them the way home! Jesus Saves! But not this night... The Friday before a long holiday weekend is not the work of the lord and savior. A foul smell filled the air. It was a homeless man, but he had no money so the Jesus freaks didn't talk to him.

Chanting hari hari, and with pleasant drum beats to boot, the Krishnas decended on the lost three. The xtians HAD NO DRUM. What would become of them?

They kneeled down for a quick huddle, but it was disturbed by an unidentified blonde computer geek shouting "BLUE 42!! BLUE 42!!!", they decided to....to... sing, their way out of it.

This needs a new paragraph. 3 reformed crackheads decided that they would OUTSING, 15 Krishnas who had a PA system on wheels.

At this point, the level of intoxication upstairs overflowed, sending several of the patrons outside to discuss the merits of eternel damnation with the freaks. All this while roughly 8 cops sat watching the remainder of the party up in the windows, clearly wishing they could come arrest us for something.

At the end of the day, the krishnas danced away for a meal, the xtians retreated to a more defensible corner, and we, the heathens, went straight to hell.

And by hell, I mean the Star Bar.

(seriously it's really bad, I think it has hookers.)

Happy holidays!

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Time for catching up, part 1... the trip.

Posted by todd Fri, 16 Dec 2005 04:45:00 GMT



Change is a difficult thing for most people.

Just to be clear: I'm talking about life change.. not quarters and pennies.. that stuff sucks and is all over my apartment. Damn pockets.

Look, I'm a busy guy, I don't have time for all this "counting change", and "not letting my cat eat dimes" stuff. If cats weren't supposed to eat dimes, they wouldn't be shiny. I treat the floor like a savings account.

Fucking cats.

ANYWAY, Change is difficult.

It's because no matter how much of a rock star you THINK you are, at the end of the day, you do the same things all the time. Most of the time life is a rut, and we like it that way.

So, as you may have noticed from my disappearance, preeeeetymuch everything in my day to day life has been modified in the last few months.

The point of this story is, starting a new job, and 3 days later being shipped out all over the east coast, is a lot of change. It's also a lot of expense reports, and pretending you know what the hell it is your new company does after 3 days. Oh yeah, and hating cops.. fuck cops. (Yay for having an anonymous'ish blog!)

The trip involved Baltimore and Annapolis MD, Charlottesville VA, and Ft. Lauderdale FL. They were all vaguely interesting places, but they all have problems as well.

If you watch the news, you may have noticed that airplanes are dropping out of the sky like goddamn raindrops. I seem to have missed all the excitement by about one day. Every time I got into an airport, I watched on TV some bad thing happening in another airport. Luckily, I know statistics... if something bad is happening in ONE airport, the chances of things happening in TWO airports at the same time is unlikely. Right?

That's why I'm always strapped when I fly. (Attention FBI: This is a joke)

Literally every airport I was in had some issue. In Charlottesville, they closed the airport due to snow. It should be pointed out that it wasn't snowing. After pressing the point with the airport people, they let me in on a secret that you might want to know about. The Charlottesville airport has NO FUCKING GROUND RADAR. Basically this means that they can't land airplanes there if it's CLOUDY.

I asked them where I could rent a horse and buggy to take me to another airport, and got a bronco. A few hours later I flew out of Richmond.

Ft. Lauderdale was actually very nice, other than the fact that it had no live trees left due to the hurricane. My hotel room at the Westin Diplomat was seriously bigger than my apartment. So at the end of the trip it was like a little vacation.

I sat out by the pool with my laptop and drank fruity drinks and looked at the woman.

That wasn't a typo.

There was only one attractive woman in Ft. Lauderdale as far as I'm aware. Everyone else was old and fat. Apparently San Diego has ruined me, so I'm stuck here now.

Happy New year!

T

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We all live many lives.

Posted by todd Sat, 03 Dec 2005 15:20:00 GMT


It's been pointed out that I've "found a life", and stopped posting. It's true. When you have a steady girlfriend, you don't tend to wind up in as many weird situations. Very few strange things happen on the couch.

HOWEVER! We all live many lives. I like to think there is a balance to life, and that when one part calms down, another winds up. So now that I'm spending less time looking at fast cars and loose women (ok fine, I still LOOK at fast cars, but I drive a lame one), I've balanced it out by taking a new job at a very risky company.

I'm the Director of Product Development, and employee #6, at a new mobile startup company.

Let me clarify what I mean by "new".

My first day, they handed me my laptop, but had no desk/office for me to use. In fact, there were NO desks/cubes/anything in the whole office. Those showed up the next day. The product I'll be running, doesn't exist yet. It's in development though, so at least there's that.

My fourth day, didn't happen at all. I was put on a plane to the east coast, and am writing this from a hotel in Annapolis, MD. When I return to San Diego on Wednesday, I'll have been to Annapolis, Charlottesville Virginia, and Ft Lauderdale.

So, while the stories of me with women will become limited to people from the past... I think I'll be able to come up with a few of life at a startup.

ps. changing laptops sucks. I lost all my bookmarks.

Todd

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Girlillas In The Mist.

Posted by todd Wed, 09 Nov 2005 15:27:00 GMT



Men, left on their own, are animals.

At least thats what boobed people would say.









Now, personally I'd argue that we are simply practical. A few examples.

* It's perfectly reasonable to have only one bath towel. You are only one person.
* That same towel can be used as an ironing board, when combined with a table.
* If you iron on the kitchen table, it makes sense to have the iron in it.
* Washcloths... Why?
* Making the bed. I can't even fathom.

It takes a few dates for these things to be noticed.. Mainly because any guy that wants to sleep with you (read: any that invite you to their apartment), will disguise these traits until at least date 3. If you want proof, open up a few closets or drawers after showing up at his place. Whatever falls out, was on the floor before you came over.

Remember... in guy land, if it can't be seen, it must be clean.

But, eventually, inevitably, the truth comes out.

When a woman encounters the real bachelor enviornment, a few things happen. First, they laugh at you... generally out loud. That goes on for a few dates, usually dates 3-5 or so.

After that, you will start to observe the effects of introducing a non-native species to an environment. I'm not talking about contracting diseases here...but...changes...

Pink things begin to appear. In my case, in the form of a loofa, or whatever those girl washcloth on a rope things are.

My bed was made when I came home, and my pants were folded.

There is a rubber ducky on my sink.

I have FOOD...IN MY REFRIGERATOR PEOPLE! (not much though)

As it turns out, all these things are quite nice. I mean, who doesn't like a rubber ducky? I don't use the loofa thinger, but it's better than a stinky girl.

Now, there are downsides to even subtle domestication. You see, left on his own a guy will have smaller dinners, consisting mostly of scotch and pretzels. However with a woman present, especially one that appreciates food, actual meals are often consumed... and...wait for it.... sometimes cooked!

This is why married people are fat.

Don't worry. I'm not married or anything (or fat..yet). But.. have you ever had one of those dates that starts out on a Tuesday, and a few weeks later you realize you have been on the equivalent of 45 dates in a row?

I'm going to go play with the duck.

Later.

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Blast from the past.

Posted by todd Mon, 07 Nov 2005 15:58:00 GMT



Note: This is not the girl I'm dating now.. it is a story from sometime in the past. You will have to guess how long ago.


It's been said that you can't judge a book by it's cover. However,when you meet a woman who claims to be a foodie, but weighs under a hundred pounds and never takes more than 3 bites of a meal....it's a safe bet she's a bit off.

Meet Javelin Girl. Also known as "The Biter".

The Biter and I talked on the phone and computer for a while before we ever went out on a date. We didn't have very much in common, and she seemed pretty boring, but she was cute! Cute gets you pretty far... At least for a few dates. So eventually we met up for drinks and sushi downtown.

Now, everybody knows that when you meet a new woman, she makes a snap judgment on you almost instantly. Certainly within the first hour, she pretty much knows the score (and whether or not you will). With that in mind, anything that you have in common that comes up in that timeframe, is HUGE. Strangely, the stars had aligned this night.

As I've mentioned before, when I first came to San Diego I lived in an area called Hillcrest, which is the gay neighborhood. The Biter had too, and after a few minutes it turned out that we lived in the EXACT SAME APARTMENT. I moved in right after she moved out.

Those are the types of coincidences that get women's gears turning. Pretty much all I had to do for the rest of the night is refrain from insulting her immediate family, and I was in.

So, one drink turns into several, and then she calls her roommate, who had driven her downtown. The roommate was in place as a quick out in case I had two heads or something, but since we had this great connection thing going, we all wound up bar hopping around town.

Long story short, the three of us wind up in my apartment. It's a lock.

My apartment causes women's clothes to fall off.

They take a seat on the windowsill and look out over downtown, have a flashback of some trashy romance novel, and that's about it. I don't let people into my apartment very often, but I'm batting 1000 when it happens.

So much so, that her roommate said, "Ok. I approve. Do you have any friends?", and then suggested to The Biter that she should just stay and get a ride home from me the next day. I think roommate had come up with the idea when The Biter spilled wine on her shirt, and had decided just to take it off and then ask me to borrow a t-shirt while she was half naked.

ANYWAY... The quiet, reserved looking, skinny girl and I wind up going to bed. I'll leave out the details.

Flash forward to next morning:

The bitch bit me!

HARD!

And slapped, and pinched, and made it pretty obvious that she expected the same. She gave me a bruise shaped like a bite mark on my chest, and scratches down my back, it was like I'd been attacked by a badger...or a beaver, if you will.

Unfortunately, we had *nothing* in common, and she turned out to be a chain smoker. So after a few more dates we just sort of stopped talking. But at least now I've learned to keep a bottle of Bactine in my drawer.

So, next time you go on a date, make sure you check for a rabies tag.

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I'm baaaaack.

Posted by todd Mon, 07 Nov 2005 13:23:00 GMT


Ok, I still have a few quirks (like when you browse the archives), but other than that my stuff is all working again. Let me know if you see anything that's busted!

I'll post some new stories today also... about a couple women I met not too long ago.

P.S. If you are keeping score, I'm dating the 22 year old still, and it appears she's not going anywhere. (as evidenced by that body washer thing that looks like a screwed up jellyfish hanging in my shower). So, my NEW random date stories will probably be gone for a while... Don't worry though, weird shit will continue to happen.

-T

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Stay Tuned.

Posted by todd Sat, 05 Nov 2005 03:49:00 GMT


Ok, so things are underway... bear with me as I'm having technical difficulties with my new template/design. (notice, you can't comment, because I screwed something up).

I'll have it fixed soonish.

Also, if anyone knows why my logo is overlapping the blogger nav bar, holla!

Might be fixed now.... blah blah blah

-T

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Google almost cock-blocks me again.

Posted by todd Sat, 29 Oct 2005 17:18:00 GMT




There's an old'ish saying, "On the internet, nobody knows you're a fish.".

Having spent enough time here, I know that people are often not who they seem, which makes me skeptical of everything online.

When the gorgeous 22 year old from match.com contacted me... well I presumed she was really a 45 year old guy.

Luckily, I'm good at the internet. If it can be found, I can find it, so in following with the recent stalker theme... The girl was hunted down. It only took about 10 minutes to find her Flickr photostream, as she uses the same handle everywhere. She is, in fact, a hot 22 year old.

Now, even though it was essential to prove her legitimacy, I still felt pretty bad about sneaking around when she was being honest. I had gathered all sorts of information based on the photos. She seemed like a party girl... She had a lot of friends... She spent a lot of time in Finland as well as the US.. She liked making out with girls...

Works for me.

So, in true Napoleon Dynamite style.. I've been chatting online with babes all day. Flippin Sweet!

We were trading pictures (with me still not letting on that I'd seen plenty), and she says "I like this one of you". Then she sent me my Blogger.com photo. She'd found this site. Fuck.

Shockingly, she still came over. At 3am. On a Tuesday.

At any rate, this story is really MUCH more involved and humerous... but since she will probably read this, it's not getting shared here. The short is, I've just started dating a girl who is probably too young for me, but seems to have her shit together a lot more than most women my age. This one might be around for awhile.

Why does she want to date an old man like me?

Hell if I care.

(ps.. I'm going to buy a new bachelor domain today that isn't tied to me. If you comment here regularly, I'll let you know where it is soon)

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Bachelor Vacation, Part II

Posted by todd Thu, 13 Oct 2005 21:24:00 GMT


Charity. Not an ex-girlfriend.(although I try)


An important activity when traveling is to sample the local flavor. In particular, the local flavor of beer.

Luckily Charity and I have a long history of drinking copious amounts of alcohol together. Together we set out to see who went blind first.

After giving me a couple hours head start by attending a family dinner, she showed up at the bar I'd found. Brewski's, which as you can tell by the name, is a classy little joint, and is near the Arkansas college campus. Really, how wrong can you go with a name like Brewski's?

The reader may have noticed that I like weird people... and my friends... it was like a weirdo convention had descended on us. Either that, or I think shit's funny when I'm drunk.

Whatever.

A few warmup weirdo's, and it was pro time. Let me tell you folks, these boys didn't screw around, and I'm pretty sure I've got a chunk of a BBQ sammich lodged in my heart from laughing so hard.

We were sitting at a table right next to the sidewalk, for maximum hilarity, when a guy walked by looking pretty angry/scary. He had a roll of duct tape in his hand, and it appeared he was ready to beat someone with it. After he walked past once, he turned around and walked up to us. It was a bit intimidating at first, especially given the first words out of his mouth.

(In my best southern redneck accent) "Hey, you wanna make a quick three dollars?".

I couldn't make this shit up. He *actually* said that.

Me (dumbfounded): Naah, I'm good. (as THIS popped into my head)
DuctMan: Cmon, three dollars, it'l only take a minute.
Me (somewhat afraid to ask): What do you want me to do?
DuctMan: Ah got ah torn rotator cuff and ah need someone to tape me up.

*blink*....*blink*...

Now, in hindsight, I *never* should have passed up the chance to duct tape a hillbilly, but I told him I didn't want to hurt him any more and declined. (Also, I feel somewhat bad about this now because he was probably in pain, but hey, WHO SAYS THAT!)

DuctMan (walking into the bar to ask someone else): Naah, you won't hurt me more, less yer real mad at me.

Charity and I sort of stared at each other for a minute while the guy went around the bar asking other people and eventually found a girl who said she'd do it. He wasn't kidding. He took off his jacket said, "ya just go round mah shoulder, then round mah chest.. then back over mah shoulder. do that three four times". She accidentally taped his skin, but he said that was ok and put on his jacket and left.

At least he didn't have a toothache, or need a physical.

Next, a man who looked a LOT like Dee Snyder walked out. (Dee pictured below for anyone who has forgotten all that is Twisted Sister)

Dee went and got on this crazy looking motorcycle that I'm *pretty* sure he built himself. He was wearing a lot of tight leather, so Charity and I were already laughing pretty hysterically when something happened that I still haven't quite recovered from seeing.

I'd looked away for a minute, and Charity says "Oh nuh uh." Yuh huh.

A woman no less than 65 years old, I'm presuming his mother, walked out and proceeded to put on a pair of huge biker goggles. She climbed on the back of the bike and sat there for a while while Dee backed the bike up across 2 lanes of traffic and took off with her.

I decided that if one more thing happened, I was moving there just for the humor value. Luckily that was it for the strange ones.

It's a sign of the times people... tight leather is coming back. I for one won't be missing the boat this time.

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No, I do NOT have a purty mouth.

Posted by todd Sat, 08 Oct 2005 16:42:00 GMT


Part 1 in a multipart series.



I'd never been to Arkansas. It's shocking, given how culturally diverse and metropolitan the state is known to be. There is a first time for everything.

Hello from Eureka Springs, Arkansas! Population 2,032. Don't you wonder how often they update that sign?

Now, a valid question would be "Todd, why the hell are you in Arkansas?". In fact I asked myself that very question as I was driving past the 47th group of cows on the way from the airport to the town. The closest airport was 50 miles.

The answer is simple, a hot girl asked me to come.

The trip was made largely to hang out with my old roommate, who is a bridesmaid in the wedding. Her now ex-boyfriend/date turned out to be pre-occupied with...well.. being married with 2 kids that she didn't know about, so I volunteered to stand in. (Oh yeah! She found this out using Google, which returned his home phone number, which in turn was answered by his wife. Sounds familiar eh?)

This is where being single really has it's benefits. See, I might be a busy guy.. not having time for all this "cleaning", and "doing laundry" stuff, but you have to have your priorities straight. A gathering full of women dressed to kill and drinking heavily, where I share a room with a bridesmaid?

I've had worse weekend plans.

So after sprinting across the Houston Airport to make a connection, I hit the ground in Fayetville, Arkansas. Brides Maid was off at the rehearsal dinner, so I drove into town and went exploring. Donning the local attire (Jeans and a baseball hat), it was pretty easy to blend in, and the locals seemed pretty talkative.

Christ there's only 2000 of them, they better be up for making new friends.

The first two bars I went into were nice, but fairly emtpy. Actually they may have been full, it was difficult to tell through the smoke. It was clear that I had not found the right place... in a new town, you have to find the locals.

It was like a game of Where's Waldo, but with long hair and beards. Leather was also very popular.

Anyway. Having traveled alone before, I knew the secret to becoming a local in 2 hours flat: Make friends with the bartenders, preferably female ones.

Luckily, this is a skill of mine.

See, a bartender is just doing their job. They don't really want to be there. They want to be somewhere else... generally, at another bar full of crazy service industry people. This is the bar you must find.

Seems easy right? Well, it can be, but there are a few rules to keep in mind.

#1: Make sure the bartender *really* likes you. These people are paid to be nice. They are not paid to send some asshole to their favorite bar. Read them wrong and you might wind up in a place that favors leather chaps.

#2: Get multiple opinions. You need a sample size greater than 1. Look, everyone has a favorite bar... but some people have really poor taste. You want to bar hop to a few places, and ideally have two unrelated bartenders (difficult in Eureka), tell you the same thing.

After a few hours, I divined that "Chelsea's" was the place I needed to be. Walking in, it reminded me of a place called the "Copper Coin" where I went to college, but with even more hicks. A folk band was playing, so Michelobe Light in hand, sat down at a table and watched the crowd.

It only took a few minutes and the rest of the table was overtaken by various oddballs, including Kathy. Kathy was older, and a librarian. Can you imagine a less interesting job than being a librarian in a town that size? Still, she was entertaining to talk to.

Turns out, tonight was the FIRST time she had seen the destruction of New Orleans on television. She didn't have one, and apparently didn't get out much. WHY she didn't get out much I'm not sure, because when we started talking about storms it became clear that there was little difference between being out, or in, where she lived.

We talked about ice storms, and I swear she actually said this: "Losing electricity would be bad for me, since I only have electric heat. I use one of those plug in heaters. I guess one good thing would be that the pipes wouldn't freeze. I just carry in water."

.......
........
.........
YOU WHAT!

The woman had no running water in her house.

At that point I stopped asking questions, and went off to find Brides Maid. The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful.

Next up: Tie hunting. More Locals. Tips for Airline CEO's.

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