done, done, on to the next one

So Cookie and I did the speed-dating thing on Friday night. She’s out of the closet about it now, and it’s a good thing, because we were on the 11:00 news. They spelled my name wrong, and didn’t include Cookie’s at all. But according to the fifty gazillion people who have called/IMed me this weekend to let me know that they saw me, we were on two networks, with a few teasers and then the actual story, and we looked wonderful. Woo. I’m a celebrity. The starfucker line starts right over there.

No, but seriously, we had an awesome time. They’re supposed to email us our matches, if we got any, later today. I listed a few people but was not among those who felt such an immediate connection after sixty seconds that they a)ditched the place with their newfound love or b)hooked up in the corner with said love.

We also met some slightly less-than-cool people, such as:

• The first guy I talked to, who stood about 4’11” and looked about 15 and talked mostly about the McDonald’s where he worked.
• The three or four guys who asked me if I had children before they even asked my name. I’m like “hell no!” and they’re like “I have three!” and I’m like “That’s great!”
• The bald firefighter who told me I had nice breasts. I said “thanks, I like them a lot!” because what else do you say to that?
• Beeeenjamin Mooooooooore, who loves him some NASCAR, and who followed us around for awhile after the meet & greet portion.
• The guy whose mom signed him up to do the event. He told me that his hair used to be 13 inches long in the back but that she’d forced him to go get it all cut to the same length on Friday afternoon. So I’m standing there thinking “holy shit, you’re a former mullet!” And then later that night, he came up to me and babbled something about graphic design for awhile before closing with this winner: “I hope your evening is as enchanting as you are.” Well, thanks.
• The one guy who spent our entire minute talking about the VT game last week.

Also, many of my introductions were “So you’re the one with the terrible handwriting!” as Cookie was right in front of me and I’d written her name tag and done so badly. I then had to show them my name tag to prove that I’m quite capable of writing my own name legibly but not so good with others after a few drinks.

That was kind of funny though.

After the sixty second meet & greet portion, we had a break and then were split into groups for a very kindergarten-ish costume contest for prizes. My group won second prize for putting this stunningly original costume together:

• Upper torso and head wrapped in toilet paper;
• Aluminum foil wrapped diaper-style around pelvic region;
• nipples and bellybutton drawn on toilet paper with a Sharpie that I stole from the registration table;
• The words “DICK MUMMY” written on his head, to go with-
• The giant erection we made out of aluminum foil and garnished with a red bow.

This costume sucked, people. Other groups made things like a martini glass and didn’t beat us. We made a giant dick and won hockey tickets. Not that I’m complaining, because I love hockey. But seriously – we did not earn that prize. First place was the Statue of Liberty – far cooler.

I stopped drinking really early and sobered up, but was incredibly hyper, so I spent much of the night dancing like a complete nerd, breaking out the Hammer Dance at least twice.

We had a blast, though. Our great time definitely outweighed the potential geek factor of participating in a speed dating event. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Edited to add: holy SHIT, I just checking my account balance online and there is a $35 charge from the bar on Friday night. Thinking I definitely wasn’t so drunk as to miss spending $35 on booze, I found the receipt. $17, which was reasonable. My two beers at $3 each, a double I owed someone, and a tip. Something’s not right.

So I called the bar and they do that thing when you run a tab where they charge $35 as a precaution. Fuck that, man, I almost never run tabs and never will again. At least I didn’t accidentally spend $35 on liquor, though.