Pick-up Lines.

Growing up sucks. On top of moving past the prime stage of my life, and knowing that my looks (and BMI) are pretty much going downhill from here, while my biological clock is relentlessly and expeditiously ticking, I’ve been awakened by the fact that I can no longer bounce back fresh-faced and bright-eyed for work the next morning after drinking four martinis on a Wednesday night and still making it home and in bed by 11:30 PM.

Yes, you heard me. 11:30 PM. I still managed 7 hours of sleep. That doesn’t exactly constitute a rager. Regardless, I’m moving at a sloth-like pace and have put very minimal effort into my appearance this morning, while simultaneously double-fisting a Gatorade and an espresso. Speaking of which, I’m about to utilize my chemical engineering skills to create some electrolyte-induced/caffeinated, dual-purpose hydration drink for the HUGE target consumer market of twenty-eight-year-olds-going-on-fifty. And also because intermittent sips of Gatorade-infused coffee leave a vomitrocious aftertaste.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Mainly, because I have received a plethora of angry gchat messages and I’m trying to assuage my avid readers:

Richa: I miss reading your blog.

Ryan:  it's 8 nov, can you please post again on your blog so i can stalk you? thanks.

Valerie: AMARA!!!! Update your blog!!!!!

Palak: When are you going to update your blog?!

Abigail: I miss your blog!!

I suck. I’m sorry.

So anyway, I was at the bar last week with Kendall celebrating/commiserating the end of our ‘every-other-Friday-off-for-no-real-reason’ schedule. For those of you that don’t know, when our company was bought, that was the first thing the acquirer eliminated from our benefits package. So now I’m back to real world-living like the rest of you guys who work five days a week every week. And it sucks.

Back to the story: we were approached by two guys at Drinkers with the worst pick-up line I have ever heard. Listen to this:

Guy: Is your dad in jail?

Me: Wtf?! Um no?

Guy: Because if I was your dad, I would be.

So my reaction was like, “ummmmmmmmm WHAT!?”  Well, no, first, my reaction was merely a baffled facial expression, followed by shock, followed by thoughts of whether this guy was actually insane… followed by the more coherent “ummmmm WHAT?!”

Shortly after, another guy approached Kendall and told her that her “bone structure was flawless. And [her] jaw-line? Impeccable.”

So while those are very nice compliments, for a seemingly-heterosexual male to drunkenly approach her and comment on her bone structure and jaw-line at as classless of a place as Drinkers, and not any of her other assets, is more than merely questionable.

But one of my all-time favorite male interactions in life happened when this guy asked me what my ethnicity was. I always have a blast with this question, I usually pick a combination of really obscure ethnic mixes that most likely don’t actually exist “my father is from Swaziland and my mother is from Paraguay.” To which I received this HIGHLY entertaining response, “Daaaaaaaaaaamn girl, you are maaaad flavorful. Like a pack of skittles.”

Where do people come UP with this stuff? Honestly, I have to admit, there has to be some intellect behind these innovative interactions. Now if only men could channel this innovative thought-process into something more useful. Like learning to have meaningful conversations.

But then I guess I wouldn’t have anything to blog about?