I’m Back To Save The Universe

I spent last night doing the best stuff in the world. Firstly, fiancé and I cleaned the kitchen and cooked. By cooked of course, I mean she prepared the meal and I cheered her on with encouraging slogans. “No food till finished!” “Determined eating improves lives!” “That chilli be ill! I shall eat my fill!” and other slogans which I can’t share here because they could be exploited to work the proletariat into a feverous excitement that leads to revolution. Jamie Oliver would be crowned king.

Then the female housemate unit came home from work. She doesn’t really work because she is a PhD student but it is good to flatter these eggheads now and again. She finished a paper for a conference in Austria before arriving home so she was buoyant and carrying dessert. Result! We consumed the delicious chilli in huge American sized portions and then we got down to the busy task of wasting a Friday night on a personals site.

Admittedly, there was some funfair action and a little b-movie watching and even some renditions of Beatles songs but the night shall now be known as the OKCupid night.

It turns out that my fiancé is hot shit because she had a dozen responses to her silly little ad. My work of genius was ignored. She tried to reassure me by saying things like, “Guys are more desperate than girls, who are less likely to initiate contact in these things.” Seeing as all I am looking for is a penpal (how pathetic a sentence is this shaping up to be?) this advice takes on a distinctly size-doesn’t-matter tone.

There is something a little distressing about seeing people you recognise on the internet where you didn’t expect them. I know Ireland is a small place and I am willing to believe The Man when he says that Dublin is even smaller but we saw two people in our quick browse who we were aware existed before we found OKCupid. You go through the stages of recognition.

“Is that--”
“No, it can’t be. Her nose isn’t that big.”
“Wait! It is her. They are her initials and she is the only person who ever did that degree who knows that the internet exists.”

And then the fun is over and you all have to click on to another boring Irish girl’s personal. Go check this yourself. Search for Irish respondents. The guys are often hilarious. Their pictures are ridiculous, the tag-lines surreal and the content is side-splitting. Even if it isn’t, at least it is syntactically correct. Capitals are used appropriately and full-stops play their role with 100% dedication. Yet the girls all talk in some psuedo-txt-spk and trail sentences off and then out of nowhere ambush you with four exclamation points in a row.

I mean they are trying to attract attention. They can stick up a small photo but that can’t do them justice so it takes second place to the text you submit for your little ad thing. (I could have a go at their monotonous photos too- debs shots and webcams all round then folks? Grand.) Yet so many of them say things like,
”all my freinds say Im mad n spontaneous-- da 1st thing u notice about me is my loud voice, im alwayz drunk !!!”

First of all, this is total balls. You aren’t always drunk. You are an Irish student so statistically you are likely to binge drink once every fortnight, shit yourself on the way home and promise that you’ll never go to that weird nightclub again that won’t play Kylie. I didn’t notice your loud voice. I noticed your functional illiteracy. You are slowly teaching me through Pavlov methods to ignore all Irish girls. Once again readers, through the use of empirical evidence, I have proven the supremacy of Christian girls over non-Christian girls in Ireland. They may be a bit too naïve and they all dress as if fashion never existed but at least their moral alarms would go off if they tried to write “sentences” like that. ‘gTis a crime.

My level of alarm over my fiancé’s popularity with internet men is only lessened by the knowledge that these men don’t exist. I continue to discover great things about her many years into our “agreement” and I shall continue to share them with you, the non-existent web reader. Fiancé enjoys a specific kind of bread but housemates buy two different types. Her innovative solution to this morning time issue (everything is an issue in the morning) was to create a rhyme.

“Red and white my delight,
Green and brown make me frown.”

I found OKCupid from a link off of erstwhile. If I was a real blogger I would always reference my links but I am a selfish and secretive man and I want to keep the good parts of the internet for the cool people.

What does a cannibal call a phone book?
A menu.

Your Correspondent, With Homemade Jeers

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