The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘girlfriend’

Attn: Ellen (3/26/14)



Back (apologies for my handwriting!)


The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

I have a unique problem. I have been to 3 events with my girlfriend’s family where a lot of the same folks have showed up. At 2 of the 3 I have worn bright pink pants.

(The first time was an ugly sweater Christmas party so it was to be funny. The second was a party at a horse track where we dressed like a formal derby party so it actually made sense.) (I swear I rarely wear those pants except for that.)

The problem is: I think her family thinks I’m an enthusiastic Peptop Bismol salesman (they really are bright pink pants.) Do you have any advice for me?

Sincerely, or @DumbFunnery

Why am I doing this?

U.S. Army – Wrecker of Love

The end of sixth grade was coming fast, and with it, a move. This time I’d be going from Leavenworth, Kansas to West Point, New York.
School would finish, I’d go to Arizona to see family on summer break, and then on to NY. Life was going to roll on by pretty quick for a while – but not before an important life event.
My first girlfriend.

At school with about a week of school left I was stopped by a girl.
Would I want to go out with her best friend?!
I did some quick thinking. The obvious answer was: no.
I didn’t want to go out with anybody.
I’d found girls pretty, or at least appealing since I was young. I’d just never wanted to date a girl. Really, I didn’t mind not talking to them. I liked it a lot if they found me funny, and I liked to imagine dating girls – but reality is much harder to control than my imagination, so I stuck with that.
I had no confidence. I was a romantic conspiracy theorist. Why did that girl just smile at me? Oh, it’s a joke! That’s so mean! Any thing that should’ve been perceived as a girl having a crush on me I saw as some attempt for me to lower my guard, only to then be made fun of.
But if this girl wanted to date me until I moved, whatever floats her boat.
Thus began my romantic life!

You’d think – with me ‘going steady’ (that’s just funny to me), that my life would change a lot.
I’d have to sit with the girl at lunch, or nearby her at class, or walk with her in the hallways – but no, none of this happened. Looking back, I probably was supposed to do these things.
I assumed our relationship was just in title, not in deed. So she could say, “yeah, that’s my boyfriend over there … He’s so … Oh … Don’t look at him, he’s trying to figure out how much of his peanut butter sandwich he can fit in his mouth at once. Gross.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t know until then that middle school girls love the telephone.
“Hello … may I ask who’s calling? … Oh! … One second! … BRAD!”
Who would call me? I thought, Why is my mom grinning?
“Hey Brad!”
What? First, who calls me? Second, a girl?!

I came to realize it was the “girlfriend.” And her friend who had asked me out.
I got the cordless and headed to my room. Once I was in my room I was sure a family member (possibly several, led by my mother) would creep up and eavesdrop. Fuel for making fun of me.
I didn’t want to be talking on the phone – it cut into my video game time. Or TV time. Or playing with my dog. Or anything-but-talking-on-the-phone time.

One day the two called and they sang me a song. Yes, they sang to me. At the conclusion of the phone call I applied my best charm to say, “Yeah … well … it stinks about my going to New York, huh?”
“Ya know, New York …”
“You’re going on a trip to New York!!”
“Ha, no! I’m moving … there …”
Uh oh. Had I forgotten …
“… What?”

I had forgotten to tell everyone but my closest friends that I was moving. And my closest friends didn’t include a single female. I hadn’t thought much of it but this was especially bad because we lived off-Post in Kansas so my friends didn’t up and move like clockwork. What a weird concept!

My budding love came to a screeching halt. All blame, of course, goes to the U.S. Army.
How dare you, wrecker of love!

Lost Shakespeare Transcript Found!

Amazing! I don’t know how these things happen, but I found a transcript of a conversation THE William Shakespeare had with a certain love interest. Here we go, from me to you!

* * *

William Shakespeare (WS): Hey honey. I’m home.
Love Interest (LI): Darling!! How was your day?
WS: Not bad, not bad. I drank, and I wrote a play.
LI: Oh! I’m so proud of you!!
WS: Thanks. It’s called Hamlet.
LI: Aw! Did you write it while you were thinking of me? Like how your ex inspired you to write Romeo and Juliet with your amazing love?
WS: Uh … Yeah I actually did think about you while I wrote this.
LI: We can talk later! Let me read it!! Wow! I’m your muse!!

(Later that day)

LI: What the hell, Bill.
WS: You read it?
LI: Uh. Yeah.
WS: Ha … so … did you like it?
LI: Talk about your all time passive aggressive.
WS: What? With my ex I thought about love so strong you couldn’t live without it. With you I thought of … murder. It’s just a different dynamic?
LI: I seriously hate you.
WS: Awww come on!
LI: How can you think our relationship is good if, while dating me, you write a play where EVERYONE DIES.
WS: Life is fleeting. Just like relationships.
LI: …
WS: Oh. Whoops. Haha! Um, no. Let me say that again. Life is fleeting. Unlike our relationship?
LI: …
WS: …Who wants ice cream?

Lying to Your Family Can Be Fun AND Entertaining!! (A Lesson for the Kids)

My first “big” relationship was with a girl I was obsessed with. Ooooh she was so pretty, and smart, and fun, and I liked her and she liked ME!

She was the freshman year of college girl (that old story).

When summer hit I went back to Arizona by way of a cruelly long drive (Texas, why do you take so long to drive out of?). Not long after returning home my Dad’s side of the family headed to northern Arizona for a bit of cooler weather.

“My girl” was scheduled to visit, which the family learned. Naturally, questions would come.

Here’s the tricky part, though. The questions didn’t come at once in a 5-on-1 interview, instead it was a series of 1-on-1 interviews where you get asked the same questions over, and over, and over again.

Eventually, I gave up on the truth.

“What’s she studying?”
“She’s getting a duel degree, one in Econ and the other in Home Studies.”

A subtle lie. Majoring in Home-Ec, how is that not funny?

I’m such a nerd.

“What’s she look like?”
“Mostly short. That’s the first thing I notice about her. Very compact. She can fit most anywhere, really.”

The lies were starting to stretch.

“What’s she like?”
“She likes dancing. She just … God! When she dances, the world dances with her!”

By the time the last relative questioned me they could tell I was lying by about ten words into my first answer.

Sure, it was obnoxious of me to give fake answers. But I knew they were drinking and weren’t going to remember anyway, so why bother with the truth when lying would at least keep me entertained. This way, at least one of us remembered the conversation.

Crappy College Poetry – “Reaction”

In college I wrote a number of poems that were dumb funny (hey, I’m consistent in my approach). With a few I actually tried to be sweet, like to woo my then-girlfriend. I know I’m not a good poet, but I enjoy writing these little things. And I found this self-hating one funny. This one is called “Reaction” and it was a poem about my then-girlfriends reaction to all the bad poetry coming her way.

If I had to guess, this poem was probably written to get her to say she did like my poetry.


I’m sick, sick, sick of your “poetry”

Great. Another five year old’s rhyme, written for me.


Why do boyfriends think they’re unique?

Bad poems by a math guy? You made my week.


Do me a favor, please, take your time.

It’s not necessarily good if you make it rhyme.


Haven’t you noticed the hints when you read to me?

Big yawns, my staring at the clock, longingly!?


It’s not just boredom, it’s even my health

My eyes have rolled so much I’m stuck looking at myself.


The first time it was sweet

But now, my dear, notice my exit on fleet feet.

Weekly Wacko (65)

Do These Glasses Make Me Look Stupid?

It turns out that people get glasses for a reason. I don’t know, though, I’m still testing this.

In high school I was involved in you-name-it-I’m-in-it club. This was for the almighty get into a good college nonsense. One of these clubs involved volunteering.

At some point I was signed up to go bag groceries at a grocery store. It was for the March of Dimes. After bagging someone’s groceries I would smilingly say, “I’m bagging groceries for the March of Dimes, if you have any spare change …” Or something along those lines.

I figured bagging groceries didn’t require 20-20 vision, so I left my glasses in my car.

A good friend and I head to the grocery store, it is close to where he lives and he was just as involved in clubs so he figured why not. I am assigned an aisle and I am ready to rumble!

Let’s bring this mess on so I can BAG IT UP!

Unfortunately it is slow-moving that day – hardly anybody is coming through. When people do come through they give me nothing. I may as well have been saying, “I’m bagging groceries for my crack addiction, if you have any spare change …”

During the lulls I debate talking to the clerk. She is a pretty cute girl, I think. Again, not wearing my glasses. But I can be awfully shy and instead look around during the lulls, pretending to be deep in thought.

With about fifteen minutes left a woman comes along and asks for a pack of cigarettes. I stare at her. The clerk stares at me. The woman stares at me. The clerk asks if I will go get the cigarettes (they were behind some counter). I gladly comply – why didn’t they just ask in the first place instead of staring at me! (Like I’m not already awkward enough.)

After I get the cigarettes I come back and hand them to the clerk. She says, “thanks, Brad.”


How does she know my name?

I …

Oh …

Oh no …


I dated one girl in high school. It was an odd relationship that ended on a weird note. This clerk, as luck would have it, happened to be my one ex-girlfriend.

I had just been standing FIVE FEET AWAY FROM MY EX-GIRLFRIEND for about … oh … an hour and forty-five minutes … and I didn’t say a word.

I sincerely hope she caught the surprised look on my face and remembered that I ordinarily wore glasses. If it was me I would’ve assumed the worst and thought I was just some horribly mean person who couldn’t even say hello.

Thankfully I left very soon after that.

I don’t think I said anything before I left – too busy yelling at myself for not wearing glasses and doing that community service in the first place and then for walking away without saying goodbye (I started yelling at myself for this as soon as I turned my back and started to walk).

Glasses, huh? They are a tricky friend.

Want another example of a glasses-free bit of idiocy? Click here.

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