Friday, May 25, 2012

MVW Presents: Minch's Summer of Love: Chapter 1

Prologue: I Don't Want To Do This...

What I do here with this blog is easy. I make pop culture jokes about stupid things and stupid people, photoshop in some pics, Zooey Deschanel reference and done! All while treating it like a TV show. I get accolades from my friends and family who read it, and life is good. There is no logical reason to, even temporarily, change the format of this here blog...


That's why I am. I read once, "Adventure lies right outside your comfort zone." I have no idea who said that, so let's all agree it was Carl Winslow. Carl said it to Judy Winslow right before they shipped her off to Hogwarts or whatever the hell the excuse was for her leaving the show. I've gotten off track. I've decided that this summer, I would use this blog to document my adventures in the world of dating.

This decision did not come easy. Could this subject matter be funny and not desperate? There's no guarantee of a happy ending (wakka) or closure. I usually play this sort of subject matter very close to the vest, and in a stunning turn of events this would, as the kids say, "put my shit on blast." I decided, I would have to consult the Minch vs. the World Board of Advisors...

Dr. Cornel West, former Red Sox coach Terry Francona, Bill Murray, and Ke$ha
Three out of four agreed with the idea. Honestly I didn't get a straight vote out of Ke$ha, as she was too busy vomiting glitter and Wild Turkey. So here we go. An average Joe's tale of the dating scene, as told by his trusty blog. It'll be like Sex and City for dudes. (You mean like Entourage?) Kind of, only much poorer, and everyone looks like Turtle Season 1.

You Have To Put Yourself Out There...

Honestly, I don't even know what the hell that means, short of a sandwich board reading, "I'm Single, Line Up Ladies!" Wait a minute... Nah, I couldn't find a sandwich board at this hour. Part of the trouble is, I'm not the guy who goes up to a girl in the bar. Part of this is sheepishness. The other part is that if there is even a hint of single girl in the bar, there are at least 4-5 other guys circling around her like sharks. Guys with V-Necks and muscles. I'm no match against these guys, it's like Hulk versus Cookie Monster. So I say hell with it and move on to the only real guarantee there is at a bar, sweet delicious booze!

So, in order to "Put Myself Out There" I have invested in a dating site. No not, "Black People Meet Dot Com" but boy that was a delightful joke on my part. One of the pay sites. No not "Christian Mingle." I was marked a heathen halfway into setting up my profile. In my defense, this was one of the questions.

True or False: Evolution is a bunch of hogwash:

__ True 

__ I worship at the altar of Satan 

Perhaps the biggest problem with dating sites is the first message sent. Do I want to just send a, "Hey how's it going? or a message that says, "Hi I read your profile and here's proof!" Should I just focus on one section so it seems like I did the reading. (Sorry, every teacher I've ever had...ever)

 Also, this has the option of "Winking" at someone. I don't know, that comes off maybe just little tiny bit uber creepy. Winking is best left to guys with comb overs and mustaches. Not to mention Subject Lines, which apparently "Hello Miss Lady" is a bad one. Also, once you start actually talking to someone, what's the appropriate amount of time before you try to arrange a date? Wait too long, you lose her. Ask too quickly, you're deemed a murderer...

Aww, this sucks, I'm going back to my fake marriage with Zooey Deschanel, where we live in a musty house filled with crap clutter, and she constantly asks her phone if it's raining...

No, sigh, I'll soldier on...


So this is where we leave Chapter One. Feel free to share this sucker with your Facebook Twitters, and your Pinterest Instagrams. Also, you're welcome to chime in with any advice, as long as it isn't stupid.

Here goes nothing...
Minch
 

  

1 comment:

  1. This post is hilarious. Great Carl Winslow reference. The only flaw is that Ke$ha drinks Jack, not wild turkey. I hope you find love on the Internet just like the Roberts once did.

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