I would like you to all know that I am now facebook friends with David Elmore Smith, from TLC's "The 650-pound Virgin."
Sweet god, YES!!!
For those of you dying to know, David's current status is: "going to take a cat nap, then do some cardio."
I think if David can accept my friend request, people I've hooked up with have no excuse.
I am one step closer to co-hosting a show with him on Bravo. It'll be like "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" meets "Biggest Loser" meets Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing. Oh my god, I can imagine our love affair. He's 32 years old and 6'2", which basically meets all my criteria. (um, is that sad?) He's also been morbidly obese, so he's learned to be nice, cause when you grow up hot, you take people's adoration for granted (so I hear). He's also had extensive plastic surgery, which shows he understands that looks are almost everything, which I respect.
But for serious, guys, you know how much I admire his extensive weight loss without the aid of surgery. And you KNOW how much I love a tall glass of awkward milk! I can just see us now, with our baby Baracks, making low-fat dinners and drinking just one glass of wine, before going to the beaudoir to keep practicing.......teehee. I'm a hot mess.
For this new development, I'd like to thank my friend Litsa, who often leads me on the path to righteousness (see Friday Night Amstel Lights for more on this). At 1:30am last night, she revealed the lasting effect my blog post on David has had on her, and showed me the fruits of her internet stalking. His MySpace page left little to be desired, but this led to the F-book page, which I decided sorely lacked a thumbnail photo of me as his friend. OF COURSE Litsa suggested I send him a message and add him as a friend, and OF COURSE I did as I was told.
Much to my delight, I awoke this morning to find the following message in my inbox:
David Elmore Smith has confirmed you as a friend on Facebook.
Now that I've got that in my inbox, I just need to get him in my box--if you know what I mean.
By "in my box" I mean, "his penis in my vagina."
Showing posts with label how to make friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label how to make friends. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
My New Favorite Blog: Conversations With Deb
So, you know how I'm really into gchatting and not actually interacting face-to-face, right?
Well, I'm kicking it on the G-chat like the G(angsta) that I am, and notice a friend's new status message. I love when the status messages are links to huffington post and NYTimes articles, cause I am forced to learn about things and form opinions.
I love it more when they are links to viral vids or other blogs, as this allows me to further my procrastination.
Well, nothing could be better on a Sunday morning than Conversations With Deb. A collection of real-life ridiculous conversations writer and comedian Deb has had over the years, with a diverse group of people, ranging from bad dates to crushes to none other than Price is Right host Bob Barker.
Please know that all these conversations are true. It makes the laughter so much louder.
Well, I'm kicking it on the G-chat like the G(angsta) that I am, and notice a friend's new status message. I love when the status messages are links to huffington post and NYTimes articles, cause I am forced to learn about things and form opinions.
I love it more when they are links to viral vids or other blogs, as this allows me to further my procrastination.
Well, nothing could be better on a Sunday morning than Conversations With Deb. A collection of real-life ridiculous conversations writer and comedian Deb has had over the years, with a diverse group of people, ranging from bad dates to crushes to none other than Price is Right host Bob Barker.
Please know that all these conversations are true. It makes the laughter so much louder.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
New Future Baby Daddy
No, not the kiwi. But the kiwi did bring this man into my life. Let me explain:
Tuesday night’s dinner started off a bit rocky. I arrived at 8:15—fifteen minutes late—only to find the kiwi had just started cooking and the other two guests hadn’t even arrived. (Luckily, I’d inhaled a slice of pizza after work, foreseeing this possible delay.) I was sort of nervous and fidgety, wondering what he’d told his friends about me and if they’d be friendly and welcoming. Could they handle Sojourner’s truth? I’d already hung out with his roommate a few times—a scrawny, precious Caucasian who’s down with the hip hop music and getting his drank on—so that was one less person to worry about. But there was a … couple.
Couples are always hard—you have to win over both of them, but approach them in totally different ways. The thing about this pair is that they weren’t particularly interested in getting to know me, and I’m not one to force my truth onto another.* Normally, if I’m with a group of friends and a new person comes into our midst, I pepper them with questions, not only to figure out if they’re a Commie spy, but to make them feel like they are worth getting to know, and by extension, more at ease. These two peeps—a 21-year-old Cali chick and her 26-year-old Aussie bf—initially reacted to me as though I were a piece of furniture … or the cleaning lady. The kiwi was in the kitchen slicing and dicing away (SO hot!), and his roommate, who I thought would support me, just sat on the couch watching humorous internet videos. So I did what any normal, non-awkward person would do during an intimate dinner party.
I drank red wine and read the newspaper.
Now, anyone who knows me would be shocked to hear of the blacktress exhibiting such autistic behavior. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I was tired and didn’t really feel like trying to impress anyone. I figured it’d happen organically (you know, like Whole Foods), and if I tried to sweet-talk his friends, the kiwi would think I was really into him or something—and we can’t get his panties in a twist. So, I just drank my 3-buck Chuck** and kicked it old school.
When the couple wasn’t all up in each other’s grill (dude was fucking flossing her molars with his tongue), I decided I’d woo the woman first. Only 6 months in NYC, she was blonde, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, and relatively easy to talk to. I followed the three-step rule for making lady friends (see below), and soon she was putty in my hands. I used my impending move to Australia to woo the guy and get him to tell me all the hot spots (he warned me that even though I’d probably be a cool bartender, Aussies don’t really tip, so I might want to change my career plan).
After a lovely dinner of homemade, non-greasy, chicken fried rice (look at my kiwi, getting ethnic in the kitchen!), we continued to drink and chat.
And that’s when he appeared to me.
Jon Lajoie.
Future baby daddy.
He’s a Canadian comedian/musician who writes hilarious songs that can be seen on Funny or Die. Why I’d never heard of him, I don’t know. Why he isn’t in my bed right now baffles me even more.
His song, “Everyday Normal Guy” is basically a magnum opus written about the men I love. Check it out:
How can you not love this man?! He is a credit to his (Canadian) race. I think my favorite line is:
“I’m a pretty shy person and I’m average looking … I get nervous in social situations, muthaf*&!%@#”
Lord knows I love an awkward with anger management issues.
No, wait, I think my favorite line is: “And I like the show Grey’s Anatomy, mutha*&!%@#”
I bet he cried over Izzy and Denny, too.
* that’s a bold-faced lie, but I was out of my element!
** Trader Joe’s Wine Shop has a $3 bottle of wine that was made with the budget blacktress in mind.
THREE-STEP RULE FOR MAKING LADY FRIENDS
1. Compliment female on article of clothing or jewelry (you know, like Regina George in 'Mean Girls'--but don't make it a lie).
2. Make a funny-but-harmless joke about something innocuous.
3. Ask her about three questions about herself—if part of a couple, “how did you two meet?” always works.
Tuesday night’s dinner started off a bit rocky. I arrived at 8:15—fifteen minutes late—only to find the kiwi had just started cooking and the other two guests hadn’t even arrived. (Luckily, I’d inhaled a slice of pizza after work, foreseeing this possible delay.) I was sort of nervous and fidgety, wondering what he’d told his friends about me and if they’d be friendly and welcoming. Could they handle Sojourner’s truth? I’d already hung out with his roommate a few times—a scrawny, precious Caucasian who’s down with the hip hop music and getting his drank on—so that was one less person to worry about. But there was a … couple.
Couples are always hard—you have to win over both of them, but approach them in totally different ways. The thing about this pair is that they weren’t particularly interested in getting to know me, and I’m not one to force my truth onto another.* Normally, if I’m with a group of friends and a new person comes into our midst, I pepper them with questions, not only to figure out if they’re a Commie spy, but to make them feel like they are worth getting to know, and by extension, more at ease. These two peeps—a 21-year-old Cali chick and her 26-year-old Aussie bf—initially reacted to me as though I were a piece of furniture … or the cleaning lady. The kiwi was in the kitchen slicing and dicing away (SO hot!), and his roommate, who I thought would support me, just sat on the couch watching humorous internet videos. So I did what any normal, non-awkward person would do during an intimate dinner party.
I drank red wine and read the newspaper.
Now, anyone who knows me would be shocked to hear of the blacktress exhibiting such autistic behavior. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I was tired and didn’t really feel like trying to impress anyone. I figured it’d happen organically (you know, like Whole Foods), and if I tried to sweet-talk his friends, the kiwi would think I was really into him or something—and we can’t get his panties in a twist. So, I just drank my 3-buck Chuck** and kicked it old school.
When the couple wasn’t all up in each other’s grill (dude was fucking flossing her molars with his tongue), I decided I’d woo the woman first. Only 6 months in NYC, she was blonde, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, and relatively easy to talk to. I followed the three-step rule for making lady friends (see below), and soon she was putty in my hands. I used my impending move to Australia to woo the guy and get him to tell me all the hot spots (he warned me that even though I’d probably be a cool bartender, Aussies don’t really tip, so I might want to change my career plan).
After a lovely dinner of homemade, non-greasy, chicken fried rice (look at my kiwi, getting ethnic in the kitchen!), we continued to drink and chat.
And that’s when he appeared to me.
Jon Lajoie.
Future baby daddy.
He’s a Canadian comedian/musician who writes hilarious songs that can be seen on Funny or Die. Why I’d never heard of him, I don’t know. Why he isn’t in my bed right now baffles me even more.
His song, “Everyday Normal Guy” is basically a magnum opus written about the men I love. Check it out:
See more Jon Lajoie videos at Funny or Die
How can you not love this man?! He is a credit to his (Canadian) race. I think my favorite line is:
“I’m a pretty shy person and I’m average looking … I get nervous in social situations, muthaf*&!%@#”
Lord knows I love an awkward with anger management issues.
No, wait, I think my favorite line is: “And I like the show Grey’s Anatomy, mutha*&!%@#”
I bet he cried over Izzy and Denny, too.
* that’s a bold-faced lie, but I was out of my element!
** Trader Joe’s Wine Shop has a $3 bottle of wine that was made with the budget blacktress in mind.
THREE-STEP RULE FOR MAKING LADY FRIENDS
1. Compliment female on article of clothing or jewelry (you know, like Regina George in 'Mean Girls'--but don't make it a lie).
2. Make a funny-but-harmless joke about something innocuous.
3. Ask her about three questions about herself—if part of a couple, “how did you two meet?” always works.
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