2nd Horseman

There are often really creepy applications or ads that pop up on Facebook, but this one takes the cake.

We're in so much trouble.

Has anyone else seen this application? http://www.new.facebook.com/apps/application.php?id=38703062348

"Create your Mr. Right: Why look for Mr. Right when you can make him yourself? Design your Mr. Right now and start your virtual relationship." If you click on the application, it takes you to this page:

And He's STARING at me...staring! Like the creepy droid that He is, with His big feet and...baguette? You can buy yourself gifts that 'he's' giving you? Listen, the only reason He's buying you chocolates is so He can hide sleeping pills in them so you won't hear Him slip out to meet His male lover(s) in the middle of the night. Every night. For always.

Shudder.

Wow. If you aren't single, I don't imagine this is popping up in your feed, but it sure is in mine. I feel like this represents all that is wrong in the social world. Why bother going out to meet men when you can just create a two-dimensional, anime-esque 'boy' to...look at? To write copy for? Could 'he' be more disturbingly androgynous or child-like? Probably. He could be Goofus or Gallant, the charming duo from Highlights magazine...no, they'd be better. Actually, Goofus is pretty butch, maybe I need to 'date' him...

Effing BOYS!

There have been so many things to blog about these last few weeks, I've been overwhelmed. I'll try a systematic approach over the next few days.

The other day, as I headed into a french bakery to buy some sinful, overpriced spread, a man walking by (who was not going into the store) opened the door for me. I was so pleasantly shocked that I made eye contact with this doughy, Midwestern, 30-something and thanked him, expressing my surprise. After asking me to repeat what I'd said, he nodded his head vigorously, smiling a little maniacally as he followed me into the vestibule. "You don't meet many guys like me in New York!" I managed to shake him by making a beeline for the hazelnut spread. You mean crazies? I beg to differ. That's what I get for engaging.

Last week I ran into a man I have a mad crush on. He's a wildly successful actor who is on tour with something and was back in town for a few days to, ya know, sit in on rehearsals for the play he wrote that's currently in rehearsal. After giving me an update, he asked about me. I explained I wasn't really acting much, mostly doing a lot of massage. "Well," he responded, "it could be worse. At least you're not homeless!" What? So, since I'm not homeless...I'm not allowed to mention that I'm not acting? I am not a whiner about my lack of career activity (at least, not lately, and definitely not with people I barely know and am trying to hypnotize into asking me out); I actually wasn't even freaking out about it at the time, I was very matter of fact. Does my lack of career make you uncomfortable? Are you serious? Dammit!

Today I met Julie for lunch. We went to the Cosi by Union Square, hotbed of NYU students and random officeworkers. Snagging a table by a handsome grad student working on his laptop, I noticed an interested picture on the hardback book sitting, next to him...a papaya cut in half. Hmm. Later, after he went to get his drink, I noted the title - She Comes First: The Thinking Man's Guide to Pleasuring a Woman. Oy. Wow, he was so cute a moment before. That book (conspicuously placed, cover up) was not touched once the entire hour I was there, and he was checking his email the whole time. This was one smooth operator...it was all a calculated setup to attract the babes. I am sorry, I'm really not comfortable using cunnilingus as an opener for chit-chat. It would be like saying, "Cute shirt! (giggle)" to a guy wearing a tee touting Free Mustache Rides.

The man of my dreams continues to elude me.

In other news: Sky Still Blue.

ugh

Seriously? The effing Bachelor?! Really? This man makes out with numerous women on camera and soulfully and talks about how “special” each one is between shots of him mackin’ on these chicks. He also tells each of them how amazing they are and tenderly kisses each one while holding their face in his manly hands. How is this even happening? Granted, each of the girls (that’s a choice) is waxing on how much they’re falling in love with them, blah, blah. Ew! THEN he sleeps with each one of them and each of them knows he has. GROSS.

How can I not be thinking, well, we know who gave the worst bj, after he keeps 2 of the 3 after sleeping with them all? Gahblegh!

Sound byte from the last night’s episode: “I don’t know that you should have to work that hard to find true love.” Really, Brad? Really? Is it supposed to be easy? What on earth must I be doing wrong?

Bret Michaels, the blue eyeliner wearing, hot, lead singer of Poison (the ‘80s band) did a reality show where he was looking for a woman. When it was down to 2 women, Skanky McSkankerson said to cute, hip tat chick “just remember where his mouth was all last night.” Ha! No conceits there, beATCH! Um, guess which is which…

Of course, the fact that I’m getting teary about being single while watching this stuff and drinking a glass of chardonnay is nothing to be alarmed about. Single, white cliché? Your table’s ready.