The Mack is Back

Reader(s):

After a 1-month hiatus from the treacherous world of blogging, I'm back, and I'm better than ever!!!

First of all, yes, I meant to describe "blogging" and not "dating" as being treacherous because I thought I was going to get fired from my job when my stat counter started telling me that people (whom I thought = compliance and/or senior management) were logging onto my blog from my company headquarters. This is a scary thought for someone who lives month-to-month.

Second, I'm better than ever because I'm hoping to switch to a new job soon -- one where I will be able to blog all I want about whatever my onyx heart desires.

So what have I been up to since I last wrote? Drinking. Lots of drinking.

Also, I've just re-written my online dating profile with hopes of attracting new men, and it seems to be working! Fat old geezers with yellow fever from Florida and the UK are already reaching out to me. What could be a more ideal match for a mid-20s girl from Silicon Valley? I suspect that there will be many new dates and perhaps my first real boyfriend (which I define as a man going on 5 dates with me) to come!

But just to catch you up on some of my recent drama, let me tell you about a phone call that I recently had. A guy called me one evening and introduced himself by saying he was "X from [name of company where he works]," so I started freaking out because I thought that I'd scheduled a phone interview for a job about which I'd totally forgotten.

So I played along, although I was confused. I asked him, "I can't remember emailing you, but do we have an appointment to speak right now?"

He then sounded even MORE CONFUSED than I and said, "No, do I need an appointment to call you? I thought we had agreed we'd speak this weekend."

That's when I was reminded for the one millionth time why I hate my life. It dawned on my idiot self that this call was not about a job -- this was about a FUCKING DATE! This was someone whom I'd met through an online dating website with whom I'd previously agreed to chat. And I must have sounded like the biggest BITCH EVER by asking him if he had a fucking APPOINTMENT to speak with me!!! Can you imagine how you'd feel if someone you were courting said that to you?!?!

I wanted to die. I literally wanted to die. BUT it was also HIS fucking fault for introducing himself in such an idiotic way. DAMNIT. Who does that? We're talking about getting to know each other romantically, and he's fucking introducing himself to me like we're supposed to be networking! Why why WHY!??!!?

Whatever. The rest of the conversation was pretty normal except for that fact that he dropped the F bomb, which is a bit weird to do on the phone with a girl whom you've never met, right? I know. I'm the biggest fucking hypocrite ever. I can't even thank my mom for cooking dinner without dropping the F bomb ("Mom, this fucking bun thit nuong is so fucking good! Gimme some more of this shit!").

Anyhow, going forward, I'm going to refer to this new dude as F Bomb. F Bomb and I are going to hang out this week, which means that there will probably be [horrible, humiliating] details to come.


LESSONS LEARNED:
-- Nothing. I think that I was totally right in every way in this particular situation.