Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Facebook PM Mating Call 2: Take the Hint Perv


If the internet has taught me anything over the years, it's this: No matter how unattractive you think you are, no matter how homely you might be, there will always be that one pervert who will whack off to your profile picture and beg you for cyber sex in a Facebook private message chat. And chances are, this pervert will misspell everything he types and mangle the English language beyond recognition. I consider myself an understanding, open minded person. People get lonely. I get that. If you never ask, you'll never know. But when someone tells you they're married and not interested in your need to "take out sperm", you should take what they say at face value and try to hit up someone else. Especially when they tell you they have a history of blogging morons who won't take no for an answer. Case in point:


If this man tries to friend you...




Being NiladriSekhar Ghosh: Hello

Karma Girl: Hello

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: Wassup

Karma Girl: Goofing off on Facebook and waiting for my husband to come home from work.

*Authors Note: Yeah, I knew what he was fishing for and hoped to head things off by mentioning I was already married. I don't know why I ever think this will make a difference.*
 


Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: ohhh so nicee do u have children

*Author's Note: Another red flag. For some reason, they always ask me this, and I never know how to answer. If I say yes, will they leave me alone? Should I make up fake kids to go along with my very real husband? Can I really afford to have fake kids at my age? Fake schooling is so expensive these days.*


Karma Girl: Not yet.

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: oh. what do you mens work

what is your work

what is your job?
 
Karma Girl: *This is around the time I start wishing I could at least attract perverts with better English skills.*

I don't understand what you just said. Are you asking if I do "men's" work or did you misspell "means"? Either way, I don't comprehend. You will have to explain.

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: what is your job?
 
Karma Girl: Massage therapist.

*As soon as I typed this, I knew it was a mistake.*
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: what massage you do?
 
Karma Girl: Deep tissue, prenatal, Swedish, hot stone, and chair massage.
 

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: whole body massage
 
Karma Girl: *Yep. Big mistake.*

Why do I have a feeling this conversation is going in a direction I'm not going to like? I follow the code of ethics laid down by the Louisiana Board of Massage Therapy. I don't do happy ending. I don't touch egg roll. No suki suki now.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: what you like
 
Karma Girl: I like truth, justice, and the American way...and cookies, but I've been trying to stay away from those.


Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: y u dnt like that
 
Karma Girl: *I should have added that I like men who type whole phrases without me wanting to type "?".*

I'm afraid you'll have to be more clear in your typing. I can't understand what you're saying.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: okkk. so what you dont like?
 
Karma Girl: I don't like lack of clarity and stealthy debauchery via an internet exchange. And mushrooms. I hate those too.
 

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: oh...can we be friends
 
Karma Girl: "Friends" as in "Facebook friends"? Sure, why not.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: thank you
 
Karma Girl: Yep. Already have you on my Facebook friends list, so that takes care of that.

*Don't ask me to cyber. Don't ask me to cyber.*

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: tell something about yourself
 
Karma Girl: *Stop jumping to conclusions, Karen. Maybe he just wants to learn about different cultures. Like a pen pal thing. On Facebook. Yeah...just in case, though...*

I love my husband. I love him soooo much, I can't wait for him to get home so I can tell him about the new friend I made.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: oh thank you very much

wanna say something
 
Karma Girl: *Don't ask me to cyber. Don't ask me to cyber.*

Say whatever you want.
 

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: so what you think about sex chat

*This is around the time I posted on my timeline: "I'm having déjà vu. Facebook déjà vu."*

what is meaning of deja vu


Karma Girl: I'll have to ask my husband about that. Speaking of which, what is your address? The last time I asked him about "sex chat", he demanded to know who was asking. He tracked the guy down and everything...funny, I never heard from him again....nobody did...weird. 


Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: if u dont mind can we have a sex chat

dont ask you husband please

Karma Girl: Wow. You're...really not good at catching the nuances of a conversation, are you? Maybe you should read my blog before you ask that question. Try starting on this blog post. Also, I tell my husband everything. EVERYTHING: http://doomtown-doomtown.blogspot.com/2013/09/facebook-pm-mating-call.html
 


Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: can we have sex chat please?
 
Karma Girl: *...*

Did you read the blog article?
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: half i read
 
Karma Girl: And what did you get out of that?
 

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: you are very good girl. straight forward and you love your husband
 
Karma Girl: *By George, I think he's got it!*

Exactly. So what do you think that means in regards to your last question?
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: i just want to have a sex chat because i have to take out sperm

just once &no more please reply
 
Karma Girl: ...Wow....no one's ever used that line on me. I have to admit it's very direct. You get points for that, but I'm thinking, no. No, I do not want to have a "sex chat" with you. You should know, I'm probably going to unfriend you for being so presumptuous as to think I would have a "sex chat" with you when I've already told you I'm a married woman who shares everything with my husband. I might even blog this. You...you might want to be prepared for that too, sweetie.
 


Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: just 5questions i will ask & you give the answer please
 
Karma Girl: As long as they're not sexy questions, sure. I'll bite.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: are you ready
 
Karma Girl: Sure.
 

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: What is Your bikini size
 
Karma Girl: *sigh*

You really are a stupid, stupid man, aren't you, Niladri?

*Insert long pause here*
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: just say na

 *Insert long pause here*

reply
 


Karma Girl: Oh, I'm sorry. I was busy transcribing this conversation on Word. The answer to your question is, no, I won't tell you my bikini size. Next question.

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: What is your bra &underwear size & colour please reply
 
Karma Girl: That's more than one question. The answer is still no.

Maybe I should just use the print screen button and copy this on Paint. What do you think Niladri?
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: why are you so sexy
 
Karma Girl: Why are you so thick? *after a moment's thought...* I didn't mean that in a sexual way, by the way.
 

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: say me the answers please
 
Karma Girl: me the answers please

*Well, if he can be an asshole...*
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: what colour bra & underwear you wear
 
Karma Girl: I'm not going to tell you because I don't want to have a sex chat with you. I do believe I told you I would answer any questions you wanted so long as they weren't of a sexual nature. Tell me, Niladri, did you fall on your head as a child or are we just having problems with translation? Hmmm?
 


Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: you can ask me questions
 
Karma Girl: I just did. Did you fall on your head? I hear brain damage can be a real bitch.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: no brain damage will u fuck me
 
Karma Girl: No. No, Niladri. I will not fuck you. Would you like me to tell you this in your native tongue? Perhaps sign language? Google translate will only take us so far, apparently.
 

Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: suck my penis suck my penis
 
Karma Girl: I believe I've spent the past half hour telling you that I will not, in fact, do such a thing. You're really bad at taking a hint. On the plus side, my next blog article is going to be interesting.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: listen this is my first sex chat dont know what to say whn can you teach me a little please
 
Karma Girl: Here's a pro tip for you: When the person you ask for a sex chat says no, you should stop trying to have a sex chat with them.

*By now, Darren had called me on my cell to let me know he was on his way home from work. Naturally, I asked him for help regarding my current English-mangling, tenacious Don Juan. His advice was priceless, as always.*

Also my husband says I should tell you I don't play with small toys.


Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: kkkkkk can u teach me please
 
Karma Girl: *The amusement factor had long ago worn off. I was getting hungry, and my hubby wanted to go out to get something to eat. It was time to end this. Time to be direct.* 

Go away, Niladri.
 
Being Niladri Sekhar Ghosh: kkk soryy

*And just as I was rolling my eyes and thinking, "Wow! All it took was a brick for him to take the hint!"*

can i make you my sister if u dont mind
 
Karma Girl: *After another long pause...* Why are you hell bent on making me hate you, Niladri?
 



Friday, April 11, 2014

Murphy's In-Law: The Importance of Wedding Planners and Dress Rehearsals

On February 15th of this year, my sister Tammy, having become dissatisfied with the swinging life of the single divorcée, rejoined the ranks of the happily married. A year ago, her boyfriend Larry asked her to be his wife. Her first marriage was a roller coaster ride of badness, so here's for hoping the next go round will be all of the good and none of the suck. I, personally, think she's onto a good thing as Larry is a pretty decent guy. He has a job, probably doesn't have a police record, and isn't the kind of guy to get physically or verbally abusive unless his Sims characters do shit he doesn't want them to do. Even then he'll only yell passive aggressively at the computer screen.

Shut your damn pie hole, Horned-Emo-Potter-Sim, and go make me a sandwich!

Larry is a Kuk Sool Won instructor with a black belt and has a degree in English and Philosophy. He has a weakness for computer games, his comic book collection, and women with type A personalities sporting stilettos. He's often been described as the male version of me. Or he would be, if I had ever finished college. And I'm pretty sure he can punch through a wooden board without breaking every bone in his hand. And I like men. Men who wear comfortable shoes. Other than that, we could totally be twins.

Larry, preparing to shoot the arrow of love straight for my sister's heart...or one of the targets at the Do Jang. Can't really tell from this angle.

When she told me he had popped the question, I was ecstatic. Then she asked me to be her maid of honor whereupon I jumped up and down squealing like a moron and accepted. I felt honored and more than a little excited. Later, when it occurred to me that I had no idea what a maid of honor was supposed to do, excitement turned to trepidation. But I brushed those feelings aside as first time jitters and made up my mind to be the best maid of honor ever by steadfastly researching my new role as the bride's go-to girl. I mean, seriously, how hard could it be?

What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Let me rephrase that last question: How hard can it be for an indecisive, overworked bride and her procrastinating first time maid of honor to plan a wedding? You want to know how hard? Oh, let me tell you. I will so tell you.

Tammy wanted a big wedding. At first. The kind held at one of those lavish plantation houses. She wanted a horse drawn carriage for the bride and groom. She wanted her bridesmaids to wear bona fide bridesmaid type dresses. You know the kind. Overly expensive and ugly as hell. She wanted to have a store bought dress for herself as opposed to borrowing one like she did for her first wedding. I was all behind that. I wasn't too keen on playing dress up and wearing heels, but what the hell? It was her wedding. Only the best for my sister.

A few months down the line, my boyfriend asks, "So, how's the wedding planning coming along? It's only a few months away now. Better get on that, don't you think?" The amused look on his face said he thought I had forgotten all about my duties which was totally unfair and not true at all. I hadn't forgotten. I just...lost track of time...or something. I got in touch with Tammy to remind her zero hour was hurtling towards us fast and asked her how far along in the planning had she come. Did she have a place reserved for the wedding? Did she have a place reserved for the reception? That plantation place, had she already reserved a date for that because the longer we waited, the harder it was going to be to reserve it in the future. And shouldn't we get together to discuss bridesmaids dresses? What about her own dress? Did she have something picked out? And by the way...

"What the hell am I supposed to be doing right now?" I whined.

"I think you're supposed to be in charge of the bachelorette party," she told me after I had asked for the hundredth time about my duties.

"Fuck yeah!"

"No Strippers."

"Awww!"

"I'm too old for that foolishness. No strippers," she said and gave me the evil eye. "I mean it."

It is a measure of how much I love the woman that I acquiesced to her demand. But it turned out all right in the end. We didn't have a stripper, but by God, we did have Brad!

As for the other stuff, she had changed her mind about the plantation house, having found a reception hall she could use for free for both the reception and the wedding. There would also be no horse drawn carriage. She was still undecided about her dress but figured the bridesmaids could just wear whatever they wanted as long as the dresses were red and not as pretty as her dress. Anything that didn't require me to try on a gown was a-okay by me. And bonus: I wasn't required to wear heels! I was totally loving this wedding already.

Fast forward a little over a month before the wedding and where should I find myself but standing in the middle of David's Bridal trying on a bridesmaid dress. Tammy had already picked out hers. The lucky bitch found the perfect dress first try. Her bridal crew were not so lucky. Either they had the dress in the right color but not the right size, or vice versa. We would have to wait for the store to order them. Tammy paid extra for the order to be rushed. Everyone I spoke to about David's Bridal warned me that they were notorious for botched orders and late deliveries, and here she was rushing an order that was scheduled for delivery a week before the wedding. If these dresses didn't come in on time, we'd be standing in our jeans and t-shirts for the ceremony. I'm not going to tell you that I prayed for a late delivery, but...

Proof that God is amused by my struggles.

The dresses, alas, were delivered on time. Unfortunately, mine was too long. I had neither the time nor the money and certainly not the patience to get the thing altered. I accepted the fact that I would have to wear heels or risk tripping down the aisle. Had I bothered to try it on in heels, I would have discovered before the ceremony that, yes, I would be tripping down the aisle not only in a gown made for someone way taller than me, but also in six inch heels that killed my feet. Upon discovering this unpleasant fact, I would have found the time, stolen the money, and kidnapped a seamstress to fix the blasted thing instead of trying to hike up my skirt while simultaneously attempting to hold a rose in one hand while clasping onto the arm of my ill-fated groomsman with the other.

The one thing I did get right-or so I thought-was taking both the day before and the day of the wedding off from work, assuming I would need the 14th off for the wedding rehearsal. When I asked what time that was going to be, I was told there wouldn't be one. We were going to play it by ear, to which I replied, "Um, okay, but how am I supposed to know where to stand?" I mean, I was pretty sure it was somewhere in the vicinity of the bride, but there my knowledge ended. I was informed that we would work out the details while we all set up the reception hall the night before the ceremony. The place was free, but we had to decorate ourselves. My sister, the other two bridesmaids, and myself would all meet at the place, set up, and chillax later that night, hopefully with a nice bottle of Moscato. A nice little reward for a job well done.

No. If you've read the title of this post, you know my dreams of wine and chilling were not to be. Tammy and I arrived at the place around 6:30 PM with bundles of stuff we thought we might need, including a set of chafing dishes she had borrowed. Someone else would be delivering the food the next day. And hopefully a bartender. When asked who that lucky jerk might be, Tammy gave me a panicked look for all of five seconds before mumbling something about finding someone to do the job. I would have offered to take the job myself, but I had other duties. Just as well. There would have been a mysterious liquor shortage long before the wedding began.

Tracy, bridesmaid number one, arrive shortly after us, and Lori, bridesmaid number two, arrived later that night with both her kids in tow, one of whom is a toddler with a hold me/don't hold me complex. You want to know how hard it is getting anything done with a kid running around screaming and grunting and begging someone, anyone, to hold them one second only to squirm out of that person's grasp the next? I gained a new appreciation for mothers everywhere that night. I truly did.

Lori's child, moments before the inevitable sugar induced mayhem.

The reception hall was filled with long tables and metal folding chairs-of which, we were not sure there would be enough-and we spent most of the night trying to figure out the best way to place the darned things. When we finally moved onto decorating, it turned out the tablecloths weren't long enough to fit on the tables. We would have to make a trip to Party City to pick up some more. Not that night because, by then, the place was closed. So much for getting things done the night before.

The next day was a flurry of frantic activity as we all rushed to get ourselves and the place ready for wedding hour. There was the reception hall to finish. Tammy had to get her hair and makeup done around two and I had my own hair appointment at one, so there wasn't a lot of time. By the grace of God, by the power of Grayskull, somehow, we got shit done. I even had time to give Larry the sister-in-law pre-wedding speech about all the things I would do to him if he broke my sister's heart. He laughed good naturally, safe in the knowledge that he could probably take me out with his little pinky. I laughed too, knowing full well martial artists can't dodge bullets.


Well, damn.

Around seven o'clock, the time the ceremony was supposed to start, we came upon a major hitch. Most of the guests had arrived by then. All but my mother and younger sister, Kelli. The thing you have to know about my mom is that she rarely leaves her house. She's warned us in the past that if a big storm hits Louisiana again, she plans to ride it out and take her chances. The woman would rather risk death than walk past her own threshold. So, it meant more than words could possibly convey when she promised Tammy she would do her best to make the wedding, which is why she decided to hold up the proceedings until they arrived.

The reception hall was located behind a big ass flood wall on Peter's Road and was notoriously hard to find, so it was assumed they had gotten lost but would eventually find the place. Ten minutes rolled by. Fifteen. Tammy started to get panicky. Someone handed her a glass of wine to calm her down. Neither my mother nor Kelli own a cell phone because they are Amish. Not really, but some of the guests must have speculated as such. We called the house to see if they had gone back there, but my cousin answered and said they hadn't returned. We started the ceremony at 7:30, Tammy close to tears.

I made it down the aisle without falling on my backside and took my place next to my sister. Meanwhile, Lori is whispering in my ear, "You gotta fix her train," and "The bouquet! Take the bouquet," before irritatingly doing all these things that I should have known to do before the ceremony began. Outwardly, I was glowering at her with a look on my face that must have read, "You wanna stand here? Huh? Do you, bitch?" Inwardly, I was all like, "No, seriously. You seem to know what you're doing here. So...you know...wanna switch?"

Just as Tammy and Larry were finishing up their I do's, who walks through the door, but my mother and little sister, looking out of breath but relieved to at least have made it there in time for the big kiss. Tammy spotted them, and there was much rejoicing in the land.

While dancing with my man after the ceremony, I got to thinking about my own nuptials. I learned many important lessons during my time as maid of honor, the least of which is to never hold your wedding in a building out in the boondocks behind a floodwall. Oh, and wedding rehearsals are probably a good idea. Regardless of that, it's my belief that nothing ever goes according to plan, even when you have one. I think I'll hire a wedding planner for mine, all the same.

And the bridesmaids dresses will be practical and easy to walk in. I promise.

Heh! Evil.