I woke up and this was open on my phone. (Yeah, I wake up late. I live seven minutes from my office.)
I believe it was supposed to say “Had a dream about Game of Thrones and the people guarding Sansa threw sharpened pita bread ‘cause I’m racist.”
On Saturday I went to the New Yorker’s Passport to the Arts. By that, I mean that I skipped all the art stuff in favor of hanging out in Brooklyn and then went to the wrap party for the food and booze.
While there, I was chatting with my Immaculate Infatuation bosses (who, as usual, did a great job selecting said food and booze) about the website and future plans and they introduced me to the woman who is helping with business development. She then introduced me to the friend that she brought along to the event. After a few minutes of chatting about the website, the friend turned to me:
Her: You look really familiar.
Me: Oh?
Her: Do you ever go to The Wren?
Me: I’ve definitely been there a few times.
Her: Did you ever tell a girl there that you were on Suits?
Me: Yeah…
Her: THAT WAS ME.
This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to leave my apartment. Although, she and her friends did believe that I was on Suits for a solid 15 minutes. I was only thwarted when they asked to see my IMDB page.
Does anyone know how to make an IMDB page?
Last week I played a fun game called “Things You’ll Never See In An Online Dating Profile” with a couple of my twitter followers.
For those of you who are not familiar, catfishing is the art of pretending to be someone else online using photos found on the internet in order to make people fall in love with you. I myself was the victim of a pretty serious catfishing back in 2006 (before catfishing was even a thing - I could have a show on MTV right now).
In this instance, a reader of my Tumblr reverse-image searched my avatar photo and came across the above link. While I’m totally flattered that someone finds me attractive enough to steal my photos from my OKCupid and use them to trick women into falling in love, I do have some qualms:
My final, and most serious qualm: What this is this janky-ass website you signed up for, Mr. Catfisher? If you want to pretend to be me to get your rocks off, at least do it on a better website. This is embarrassing for both of us.
Last night while I was purchasing a pound of broccoli at the grocery store because it was the smallest available denomination by which one could purchase broccoli, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea:
There should be a store that sells produce and other perishables in small enough servings that they don’t go bad when purchased by single people who live alone!
About three seconds after I had this idea, I realized it was not the slightest bit creative or original.
About three seconds after I realized that, I decided that I need to stop going to the grocery store alone.
This is a real healthy thing that Crunch Gym wants me to do on Valentine’s Day.
