Whenever I am about to attend a summer BBQ, as most of us will this weekend, I look forward to it as a great opportunity to meet women. Not that I ever really meet women in the place you’re supposed to (last place I picked a girl up: Staples), but I like the sound of it. Everyone’s outdoors in a festive mood, they’ll be music, grilled meats, wine and spirits: it’s a romantic rendezvous waiting to happen. And then I remember sweating. People sweat like crazy on the 4th of July, me especially. And, then, when we aren’t dripping body water, we’re eating mayonnaise-based salads, getting sunburns, and wearing sandals. Basically, barbecues are a collection of the unsexiest behaviors known to man. If only we could find a way to include nose hair trimming. So, the pressure’s off, gang. The 4th of July is actually a terrible time to meet someone, which means we can all focus on what really matters: our favorite tank-tops (mine is called a “t-shirt”), throwing on some tunes (or NPR), and getting really really drunk.
In that spirit, here are this month’s worst emails, from you, my loyal readers…The Awful Story Olympics.
Do you know what a upperdecker is? (DO I?!) Well a guy I went out with a month ago did an upper-decker in my toilet. No idea why, the date was totally fine. Beat that… K. Cullen, Los Angeles CA
An upper decker, for those of you who have dignity, is when you…move your bowels…in the upper tank of a toilet, instead of in the toilet bowl itself, as God intended it. Yeah, that’s a thing, and it has a name.
I have the strong feeling that no one would pull an upper decker after a date that was “totally fine.” It’s a fairly aggressive act. Unless, wait, were you going with the caricature of a 19 year-old frat boy? How did you find out you’d been upper decked? How did you know it was him – I’m certain there’s many a cleaning lady who enjoys a nice toilet tank poop. I have so many questions for K. Cullen, but, as I imagine most people do after being upper-decked, she’s fallen oddly silent and won’t respond to follow ups. Details!
Hey man, love the site. (Of course you do.) I went out with a girl recently who I knew was weird. She had tattoos, she was into voodoo, she was weird. But also hot as hell. So we went back to her place, got in bed, and had a good time.
I wake up the next morning, and feel something’s off. I can feel her legs next to me, and she’s moving around some, but I look at her and she’s totally asleep. It’s just fucking weird. And then she starts moving around a lot, and so I look down and pull up the sheets and MOTHERFUCKER there’s a FUCKING snake in the bed. Like a big goddamn snake, just hanging out in the bed. I jump out of bed screaming, which I’m not proud of, but fuck, it’s a fucking snake. She wakes up and is like, “what’s the big deal, he’s totally harmless?” It didn’t look harmless. It was huge and was probably trying to strangle me. I got out of there so fast.
Well, Chris, my huge snake sleeps in bed with me every night, if you know what I mean. And THAT is the sort of thing a guy who does upper deckers would say. Call back!
Nobody likes pets sleeping in the bed, whether it’s dogs, cats, snakes, or goldfish. There’s something about waking up staring a pair of paws or a cat anus that really takes the intimacy out of the next morning wake up, you know? No matter how much you love your pet, chances are your partner doesn’t give a shit, so give the animals the boot. Or, if appropriate, turn them into boots.
An email received from an incredibly lucky reader, Maggie Y in Atlanta, Georgia.
Hello there, my name is Brandon and I would like to take the time out to let you know that I read your profile word for word and was very impressed… That sudden burst om impression wat the catalyst of me sending you this message.. I’m not going to presume that I know what you’re on OKC looking for, some women on here say that they’re looking for one thing but the harsh reality is they’re expecting something else entirely (Ie Brad Pitt riding a white steed carrying a dozen roses and chocolates)… As of now I’m sure you’re smart enough to deduce that I don’t look like Brad Pitt, nor have I ever owned or rode a white steed in my life, I have however found time to ride a donkey at the state fair(I don’t know if that gives me points or not lol) but in all seriousness I thought you were worth more than sending you some of the following..
2 – nice pics
3 – sup
4 – we should chill
5 – cool profile
I’d be very interested in getting to know you better through some good old fashioned conversation, then mabye a cup of coffee or tea..
Till then take it easy
I feel like I should point out that dear Brandon was a fairly thuggish ruggish black gentleman wearing a doo rag, which made the donkey-riding fair scene all the more intriguing to me.
Wow, that’s a doozy. Thanks, Maggie. I love how Brandon points out, in list format, how other people write short, shitty, perfunctory emails, but that he is better than that, and that Maggie deserves better. Brandon is more noble, more caring, so he will deliver…a LONG, shitty, perfunctory email. It’s still boring, it’s still cut and pasted, and it’s still not gonna lead to anyone writing back. Oh, and I probably wouldn’t promise that you’ve read her profile when it’s pretty obvious that you haven’t read her profile. Sup.
Still though, I’d kill for a picture of him on a mule at the county fair.
Happy 4th of July, everyone!
Send me your awful stories here! As always, anonymity will be respected! More or less!