The Life and Death of An Internet Dater

[JamesKramer77]

I welcome the opportunity to meet with you at your earliest convenience

Job hunting...draining...all...energies.

My father gave me the equivalent of the Job Hunter's Bible the last time I saw him. It's a massive binder filled with articles, dos and don'ts, his own past cover letters, and samples of other peoples'. He has letters in there that he wrote in 1975 and before, but saved for his kids to look at. It's a friggin' job time capsule. It's even bound in the flesh of his old bosses. Massive.

I'm trying to harness its powers for good. Heck, I'd even take evil at this point.

So, this has become my quest: exodus. I went back down to Florida with my folks to stay at my brother's about two weeks ago. He was in the midst of breaking up with his girlfriend, thus he was miserable (they got back together the day we left). Anyway, the longer I stayed there, the more I realized that I'm ready for a more sophisticated lifestyle. Having roommates is all well and good, but my style is getting seriously cramped. This means having to follow my own 5 step plan for happiness, though. Am I ready?

1. Get new job
2. Make more money
3. Move
4. Write bestselling novel
5. Create time capsule of successes

Going to see Kill Bill Vol. 2 and eat Arby's tonight. I'm psyched. I should be job hunting, though.

Damn it.

 

[JamesKramer77]

Watching over lucky clovers...isn't that bizarre?

Fridays taste good. They sound good, too. I'm currently listening to the end of my Friday 80s mix here at work, and The Reflex just kicked in. Not any sort of actual reflex, but the Duran Dur...[sigh] you get it.

One of my co-workers gave notice today. Damn it. Always a bridesmaid...

Mother's Day is upon us, which will mark my fifth consecutive weekend away from my apartment. I'm sick of the travel, but what are you gonna do? Let mom down? Hell no. Momma did't raise me like DAT. Wait a minute...she's playing me out. Trixsy Mom.

The last time I was home, I noticed a new addition to the end table by the back door. Apparently, my mom bought a cow bell in order to signal my father to come in while he's working in the backyard. One clang means a phone call, two means that supper's on. Yee-haw.

My brother and I used to joke that we lived on a farm as kids since it seemed like we had an insane amount of chores to do all the time. I guess we never realized how close we were to the truth.

The pursuit of a regular venue is still a constant concern for The Society. We had some rough times of late, questioning our worth, trying to figure out what we were doing this all for...we've been together for over a year now, which is much, much longer than any group I've been associated with. I still love the form, though, which is surprising. I grew weary of the Harold after taking classes for over a year, but I think what we do has been a refreshing change of pace, not to mention a great way to get me out of my head from the get-go.

Our regular coach, Mark McCarthy, has been out of town for a little while now, leaving us coachless. None of us have found anyone to stand-in, so we've done something I usually vehemently oppose, practicing sans coach. I 'm shocked at how successful we've been. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that the other group members bring a lot of great excercises to the table to focus on. All the same, we still need a coach until Mark returns [read: coach us, coaches].

Ok, switching to Elvis: The Number One Hits.

 

[JamesKramer77]

Slap it up, flip it, rub it down...oh no!

At time of composure, the time is just about six o'clock on the Swatch watch. Two hours till next performance. We'll be at full man-power, the key word being man. Erika has been gone for the last few shows, but will return. Mark Sam has been on vacation, and re-joined us for Monday night's fun School Night show, but we were missing Sheffield due to conflicting schedules. Tonight, however, don't call it a comeback, we've been here for years. Year.

On the way to McManus after our last rehearsal, Sheffield had asked me what the deal was with my internet dating stories of late, meaning, there have been none. I didn't think much of it. Then, last night, my roommate asked the same thing. My love life is not here to entertain you, people! You've got the O.C. for that. [Sigh]. Who am I kidding? I miss the entertainment of completely crazy strangers too, in a way. My wallet sure as hell doesn't, though.

If I'm bored at work, I'll still give the profiles a look-see, just a short swing around the 'ol dating neighborhood. I can't remember now if I've covered this before, but it's shocking how many of the profiles I've looked at share some derivation of the same screenname (brneyedgirl being an extremely popular one), or the same headline. All of my headlines were purposely as obscure as possible, acting as flypaper to nothing. My hope was that some fresh female would recognize my quote and come-a-runnin. Never happened. I'm a glutton for punishment, though...or was, at any rate. I've turned my back on the internet lifestyle for now.

I've since noticed just how many dating sites there are, though. Lavalife, match, nerve, singles, bigchurch, hotn'horny, so many to choose from. There's enough to make a man want to be single forever just to sample all the...er...crappy assortment of women who visit the same sites.

Now hold on, back up...I in no way meant to offend any current internet females who may happen to be reading this. I'm surely not talking about your profiles (except for you, brneyedgirl1977 or yankeefan76...get an original screenname you lemming!). I really mean the majority of the girls I ended up dating.

As sure as the sun doth shine, I'm sure I'll remove my bindings and swim back out to the nest of Internet harpies (not you, reader) to once again be consumed in their electronic maws (not you), listen to their senseless magazine prattle (not), and die a thousand painful dating deaths (you).

Whoops, look at the time. Must go warm up.

 

[JamesKramer77]

"This kiss, this KISS! Unthinkable."

The Society got asked to help out at Evel Cathedral's new venue, Ash Wednesday at Detention (3rd Street btwn 1st and 2nd Ave) last night. It was sort of a last minute thing, so I didn't do a great job of hyping it too much. All the same, for the second week of its existence, the show definitely increased its audience. Well done, Evel Cathedral.

The show went pretty well. Because of the short notice, Sheffield and Mark Sam weren't able to make it, leaving DeCoster, Scullz, I to put on the show. We'd done a three-person one-act only once before, and it went ok. A lot of the fun of the show comes with, like so many others, hard edits and full character development. With only three people, it's slightly harder to get the multitude of characters down. It still went ok, even though DeCoster was "pretty hammered."

The guys in my group are pretty good about taking advantage of the fact that we're so comfortable together on stage. Sheffield in particular is great at turning up the intensity with a good man on man kiss. I've never had the pleasure, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he lays one on me. In fact, I'd dodged that bullet all together...until last night.

In the play, I played an abused, nearly 18 young lady (funny!) with her sights set on escaping her abusive father (funny!) to run off with her boyfriend (DeCoster), whom she made a pact with her dead mother never to sleep with until she was married (funny!). The scene in question was an encounter between me and the boyfriend, and it started with a passionate kiss.

Ladies, I don't know how you do it. Now, I'm sure--POSITIVE--that DeCoster knows what he's doing when it comes to the ladies. I just ask that he shave next time. Scratchy.

After the show, DeCoster took off for poker, but Scullz and I stuck around for some karaoke. Unfortunately, our plans were thwarted by some sort of dating-game show going on, and the two of us got wrangled in as contestants, along with the best-looking guy in the bar, complete with girl-melting Australian accent. Why even bother playing? Take him, girl behind the curtain. We all know you want him.

Too bad his answers were all lame (oy!). Actually, the answer of the night went to Scully. We were pretty much hamming it up all night, but he took the cake, the box, and the whole bakery.

Girl: "Contestant #1 [me], do I ask too many questions?"
Me: Special lady, there's no such thing as too many questions. How else can
I have the pleasure of getting to know you?"
Girl: "Contestant #2 [Scully], do YOU think I ask too many questions?"
Andy: "Shhh. Baby, shut your mouth."

I thought that was really funny.

Suffice it to say, the Australian went home "aymptee hayndeed". One of us won the hand of the lady and free drinks for the rest of the night.

The girl, by the way, snuck off after singing Sweet Child O'Mine.