How to Get Girls, Part 3

(Check out Part 1 and Part 2.)

The Bait and Switch

Step 1: Locate a female. Preferably one with severe emotional issues who is going through a particularly vulnerable time and won't be able to enforce healthy boundaries. Caution: This may backfire if she's so mentally unstable that she violently attacks you later.

Step 2: Ask her out. The beautiful thing is that it doesn't matter if she says yes or no. If she says no, which she will...

Step 3: ...Carry on as though she said yes. As in, conduct the relationship in a way that looks exactly like dating. The key here is to use her own word: "friends." That word is like a magic license to treat her as outrageously inappropriately as you want. If she suggests including other friends, veto this immediately. Isolation is essential.

Step 4: Now that you've got her isolated, don't waste any time in obtaining extremely personal information. Schedule her therapy appointments on your calendar to be "supportive" -- since no one else can match your unhealthy level of attention, she'll become dependent on you. (The other beautiful thing is that it doesn't even matter if you're not smart or funny or interesting at all... just act unbelievably nice and she'll be under your control.) If she's having a bad day, make sure to seem more understanding than anyone else would ever be so that she'll keep coming to you. Stay in contact all throughout the day, or every other day at the least. Make her homemade soup when she mentions feeling slightly under the weather. Get all dressed up and take her out to dinner and the ballet. Hell, rent an airplane and take her flying if you can! You know she never gets to do such things, so she won't be able to resist. Compliment her dress... her hair... her eyes. Get more and more flirtatious slowly over several months so that she doesn't notice what's happening until you're holding her in a long embrace. As long as you still call her a "friend," she can't possibly get attached to you, but you get to feel like a hero. (One exception to the "act like you're dating" rule: if she insists on paying for herself, let her. No reason to invest in something temporary. You're getting a great deal, plus she'll be tempted to believe that you're respecting her boundaries.)

Step 5: Repeat step 4 until a new prospect comes along. Trade in the placeholder immediately. If she points out your place-holding behavior, turn it around so that you're the victim -- she is invalidating your lifestyle and that hurts! Admit no fault, and certainly don't apologize. Why should you? This person has ceased to be useful to you, so reconciliation is unnecessary. You got what you wanted... and guilt-free, because after all, you were just friends -- she said so herself! And you know what they say: "Words speak louder than actions." (Don't bother yourself with the ethics of gaslighting someone who already has literal brain damage from gaslighting... you have more interesting things to worry about now!)

Step 5: Charm this new person into marrying you as soon as possible -- before she can change her mind. Four months is plenty of time to turn an acquaintance into a spouse. Remember, the only thing better than abruptly merging your entire life with a near-stranger (and having a black eye in your wedding pictures) is to time it so that you're also starting a stressful new job and moving out of state where you lack the social support your questionable decisions certainly require.


Thanks for nothing, intellection.

We had to take the Strengths Finder assessment at work and these were my top 5 strengths:

1. Intellection
2. Input
3. Learner
4. Strategic
5. Responsibility

Everyone with intellection knows that's not a word, so let me translate for you:

1. You're a nerd
2. You're a nerd
3. You're a nerd
4. You lied when you took the test
5. You should have more fun

The first three are no surprise. But strategic? I don't know... when I think of strategic, I think of people who are good at chess. People who can see what's going to happen next if they take or don't take a certain action. Here is my case for how not strategic I am:

Example 1) Fifty percent of the time I put my ukulele back in its case, I put it in upside-down.

Big side with big side, no?
 At one point I actually asked myself why they put the zipper on the bottom.

The other fifty percent of the time, I preempt my stupidity (is this the strategic part??) and purposely put it in the opposite way of my natural inclination. But wait... little end into big end?

This can't possibly be right.
How did I manage to get it wrong again? I strategically preempted my stupidity! I turn it around so that big sides match -- ah, now it's looking right -- and end up with this:

I don't understand why it won't go in farther.
Damn it... foiled again! So then I turn it around again in this chaotic universe and finally get the thing in there, contrary to basic logic. Strategic? Folks, it takes me three tries to get a ukulele-shaped ukulele into a ukulele-shaped ukulele case. A toddler could match shapes better than me!

One could argue that my strategy is just neutralized by my lack of spatial reasoning skills, except...

Example 2) Fifty percent of the time I try to bring up a Snapchat filter, I first touch my real face, not my face on the screen. And I am younger than 80, so there's no excuse for this techtarded behavior. Strategic? I think not. And where was intellection during all this??


Man Church

Image result for nascar

I boycotted Father's Day this year. Not for the expected reason. I just couldn't handle another Man Church spectacle. Last year the theme (yes, there's a theme) was sports. Because fathers are practically men, and men like sports. (On Mother's Day this same church taught me -- again -- that woman and mother are synonyms.)

Last Father's Day, I walked into the church building and grabbed a water bottle from one of two giant ice troughs, declined the free popcorn, and headed up to the balcony. The excitement was almost as palpable as the spilled popcorn underfoot. I looked down onto what used to be the stage but was now a mini football field. The musicians were wearing baseball -- basketball -- whatever kind of jersey they could find, I guess.

The next hour and a half was a blur of cheerleaders, a dancing mascot, clips of sportscasters, a referee blowing the whistle on the pastor's (rehearsed) bad jokes, halftime entertainment, live competitions, prizes, and T-shirts launched into the congregation audience. Oh yeah, and there was even a sermon. The pastor's talk was divided into four quarters and that was my takeaway. (I'm sure all the dads remember the message though because they would have gotten the football analogy.) What I do remember: doing the wave. Or sitting there in a stupor while everyone else did the wave, more likely. I kept forgetting and remembering that I was at a church worship gathering as if I were going in and out of consciousness.

This year the theme was Nascar. I just couldn't.


Fishing is not my default activity.

Why stop the mundanity now? I have yet to empty myself of grocery shopping rants.

In my avoidance of grocery Monopoly, I made the mistake of shopping the Walmart "neighborhood market." (I like to pretend this is better than the regular Walmart, but if it is, it's only quantitatively because it's smaller.) First a customer asked me if I was buying my "bicycle vegetables," which, now that I think of it, could have been a concerned inquiry as to what I'm feeding my bicycle. But I don't think so; the stress made it sound like bicycle was meant as an adjective. Or perhaps he was creating a compound noun? There's no such thing as bicycle-vegetables, odd stranger. It seemed his entire purpose in uttering incohesive phrases at me was to let me know that he saw me outside, which is just creepy and stalker-ish.

Then the cashier. Rang up my grapes, told me how much they cost and asked if I still wanted them. For a moment I wondered if this was a trick question because they cost the same amount when I actively picked them up and put them in my cart. Nothing has changed! Why would my mind? Apparently Walmart cashiers are not accustomed to people knowing how to use multiplication. Then he inexplicably asked me if I was going fishing, and when I said no, he asked, "Why not?!"

I guess he didn't know my bike is a vegetarian. And a cannibal. I don't know.


Thanks though... I am out of salt.

So I'm playing Monopoly. Not the real one, but the one from the grocery store where you can win stuff. I never play these dumb things. When the cashiers ask me if I'm playing Monopoly, I say no so they won't give me those useless game pieces. But this one day, the cashier didn't ask me and just handed me a huge stack of them, and I couldn't just throw them away -- what if they contained the winning pieces to the... whatever prize is the biggest?!? So I got a board.

It seems this Monopoly has changed from how I remember it. Didn't they used to give you like three game pieces each shopping trip? Now they gave me a ton of those little paper packets, and each one has four separate pieces inside! Real Monopoly is fun, but this is like a monotonous part-time job! Even if I win the $5 cash prize, I'm pretty sure I'm not even making minimum wage if I take the time to go in and redeem it, after all the time I've spent affixing these damn pieces on.

As if four game pieces weren't enough, each packet is also printed with either an Instant Winner or a code to continue playing online. I decline to continue torturing myself. Are people really doing this? Like the gluing on of the paper pieces whetted their appetite for more ways to waste their time?

It honestly took me three days to get all the pieces I've collected on the board, it's so boring. Finally I got one that said Instant Winner! Salt. Really? I finally win something and it's ordinary table salt? They couldn't make it something that seems more prize-ish, like candy? It's like the Prize Selector stopped valuing his job and just tried to come up with the most mundane prize ever. Actually, it was for iodized salt specifically. Seems extra degrading. Like they figure I must be too pathetic to ensure I'm getting enough iodine in my diet if I'm playing grocery Monopoly on a Friday night. Also, ex-prize selector? This is AKA a coupon.


I Felt Stabby This Day

I recently discovered a weird craft that I did not know existed called felting. Felting involves taking the hair from an alpaca and forming it into the likeness of another animal, or anything at all, without the alpaca's consent.

Somehow by stabbing a ball of hair with a special needle, the ball gets tighter and tighter until it takes on whatever shape you stabbed it into. It's basically witchcraft. Since my powers aren't magic, they peaked at a sphere...with a face and some balding "pigtails." (So I got tired of stabbing and didn't finish the hair, okay?)

Take this quiz to see if felting is for you:

a) you enjoy creepy, hairy, useless knickknacks

b) creepy knickknacks aren't your thing, but you need something terrifying to appear randomly on your unsuspecting coworker's desk to promote your continued attendance at work

c) you're not into hairy knickknacks, but you love a good stabbing

d) there's an alpaca in your life that deserves some voodoo revenge

If you answered A, B, or C, you should stop taking quizzes about felting.
If you answered D, you should do whatever you want... I'm afraid to piss you off as a human.

"Hi! I'm Sara. I'm looking for my forever body."


Now if I could just sleep...

I have long hated bedsheets, and I have gone to extreme lengths to avoid them. I'm referring to flat sheets specifically. The fitted sheet is easy enough to put on the bed (although it takes specialized knowledge to fold it correctly), but the top sheet is trying to kill me!

First I go crazy trying to get the thing all smooth and centered, then get a full-body workout trying to tuck it under my heavy mattress properly, but the worst part is actually sleeping under it. The sheet and the blanket have some conspiracy going to destroy what is left of my sanity after attempting to make my bed: The blanket will start inching toward one side while the sheet creeps off the opposite side. Every time. They could at least have the courtesy to fall off the same direction. Well, I've had enough.

I finally made the switch to a duvet, and I was so excited when my duvet cover arrived (from Europe, I presume)... until I tried to put it on. At first it appeared to be just a sheet, which was exactly what I was trying to quit, so I got a little panicky, turning it all around and trying to find a magic opening. Where do you put the duvet in?? Finally I found a small opening and realized the buttons were hidden on the inside. Strike one, duvet cover. (Not because hidden buttons aren't genius, but because you tricked me.) Then I realized my duvet was two inches longer than the cover, yet two inches narrower. So it's going to be like that, huh? Did I just trade one conspiracy for another? Images of lumpy, saggy bedding flashed through my mind. Strike two. I started to suspect that duvets were going to disappoint me just as much as sheets and hammocks and the floor.

In the end, the size difference didn't seem to be problematic, and while making the bed still drove me a bit mad on my first try, the sleeping insomnia experience is so worth it. I can toss and turn until morning light and not have to wonder where my covers went. I think it's going to be okay.

But one more strike and you're out.