Bizarre, Unsolicited Romantic Advice To And From Dirty People

Once upon a time, when I thought it was still appropriate for one’s butt cheeks to hang out of shorts, I went to a music festival with my sister. Performing on one of the smaller stages was a girl whose lack of hygiene put mine to shame. While I confess to being chronically Unwashed, this girl was grimy- her hair hung in lank, dirty locks around her face, she wore a filthy oversized shirt, her overall appearance was one of a person who questions the utility of indoor plumbing marvels such as showers.

The music was electrical synthesizer, the kind that homeless youths might dance to at during impromptu raves in back alleys. The girls swayed back and forth on stage as though she was in her own grungy world. The performance was as forgettable as she was clean, which is to say, not at all. In the same way that I live to my name, she lived up to hers; she called herself Grimes. She brought dirt to a whole new level that I had never considered.

Grimes is a Canadian artist so she resurfaces on my radar now and again. When this happens, I always check to see whether she’s bathed in the last six months. But most recently, I paid attention to the young musician because Grimes attended the Met ball with Elon Musk. I like Elon Musk- he’s accomplishing incredible feats with his company and has his head on straight about a lot of issues; the most pertinent one being his resistance to AI. However I wouldn’t want any of my friends dating him. Grimes and I are not friends but we’re kind of in the small clique of people who eschew standard grooming habits, so, we’re compatriots in the fight against an overly sanitized and wiped down world.

Anyways during my third year of university I was dating a man who my parents called “a bad choice”. My Dad disliked this guy to the point that he let loose the most damning insult in my father’s limited repertoire- “He’ll be a poor businessman.” My mother was blunter and shared her thoughts on this young man one morning while I was leaving for work.

I want to say to Grimes what my mother said to me “Oh you poor, pungent, filthy girl, I’m sorry” actually my mother did not preface her speech with that. My mother would never say “I’m sorry” when giving these types of speeches, instead my mother merely shouted at me “Don’t call him. He isn’t going to love you Unwashed, he’s not going to marry you!” There was probably more to that sermon but I ran out the door covering my ears. No doubt Grimes would do the same, but still as a fellow lover of dirt in a world where many people shower every day (why?), I feel it’s my duty to give her fair warning.

 

Why Facebook Stalking Your Ex Is A Bad Thing

We all do it, yet it’s a terrible pastime, let’s outline the reasons why.

  1. Your Ex is never fat enough

After I’ve dated someone, I prefer that they pile on the pounds like someone in a lifelong hotdog eating competition. Even if they’ve gained fifty kilos and are starting to look more spherical than person shaped, the preferable size for exes is along the lines of a Macy’s Thanksgiving parade balloon.

  1. No one ever takes pictures of themselves being waterboarded

There are approximately three trillion photos of food on Facebook and one hundred million photos of beach vacations. Yet the important moments that I don’t want to miss in my exes’ lives; being strapped to a rack or crying as drops roll down their face for the seventeenth hour in a row are never uploaded. How is it that tandoori chicken takes precedence over the moment when they close the iron maiden?

  1. Their new significant others are too attractive

My favourite types of people for exes to date come in two categories; fugly and bridge troll. If I click past a picture and my ex’s new partner doesn’t inspire images of goats and small children disappearing into gap toothed maws, I’m disappointed.

  1. They always look so damn happy

No one commands people to “Funnel your inner demons into a grimace” when they take a picture. Instead humanity is instructed to “Say cheese” and “Smile”. Any expression short of gut wrenching inner turmoil just doesn’t pass mustard with me.

  1. They have this pesky habit of still standing

Ideally after a break up, I would like my exes to say to themselves “Well there goes my reason for living” and then they should lie down where they are and wait for death. This has yet to happen thus images of my ex standing next to friends or family members always have a certain irritating, taunting quality.

My solution to this problem? That everyone in the world take photos of themselves in dire and painful straights; holding their heads in despair, struggling to swim against an over-powering rip current, etc. I volunteer the last three men I dated to go first

 

Travesty Tuesdays- What May Very Well Be Our Last Date Night In Public

This Travesty Tuesday isn’t so much a correspondence as a conversation. It occurred on Roscoe and my last date night. He claims that I’m grounded and not allowed to speak to normal people for two weeks. Especially not flustered young women with unwanted tilapia. Something about my new catchphrase being wildly inappropriate.

This post will make infinitely more sense and be much funnier if you’ve read “Protect Your Pecker: Pause Before Pill Popping”

Date– Last Thursday

Scene– Roscoe and I are out for a date at a local food place. Our server is new, however Roscoe and I are patient and don’t mind waiting or asking politely for things like cutlery. The two of us are happily chatting away, enjoying the lengthy European style dinner that our server’s inexperience has afforded us. The conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the food.

Various cutlery

Wildly over-rated. The under two crowd doesn’t even use them. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

~Our server carefully places pizza in front of me and fish in front of Roscoe~

Nervous Server– cheerfully, with a note of satisfaction over not dropping the food “There you go!”

Queue the Great Unwashed looking at Roscoe to see whether he’s going to say anything. It appears he isn’t.

The Great Unwashed – in an encouraging tone “Thank you! These do look wonderful, sadly they aren’t what we ordered. I wanted the pork and he ordered a hamburger”

Nervous, now Flustered Server– “Oh! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, let me get those plates.”

~Flustered, blushing server reaches for the plates~

The Great Unwashed– in a reassuring tone “Don’t worry, it’s fine, no one lanced the peen.”

Nervous, now Bewildered Server– “What? I mean pardon?”

Roscoe to the Great Unwashed – “You HAVE to stop saying that. “

Roscoe to the Bewildered Server holding the ownerless plates in a mortified and apologetic tone – “I’m sorry, she means everything is fine.”

Personally I think it’s an overreaction, I mean no harm no foul, no peens were lanced. Regardless it appears as though for the next month our date nights will be Netflix movies on the couch.

*For those of you looking at your calendars, yes it is Friday. However I thought Wednesday was Tuesday and then our house was broken into by spirits from the great beyond on Wednesday night. Have no fear, they took nothing,

however they did leave the lid off the peanut butter. I can’t really blame them, who doesn’t love peanut butter?