Posted by todd
Sat, 03 Dec 2005 15:20:00 GMT
It's been pointed out that I've "found a life", and stopped posting. It's true. When you have a steady girlfriend, you don't tend to wind up in as many weird situations. Very few strange things happen on the couch.
HOWEVER! We all live many lives. I like to think there is a balance to life, and that when one part calms down, another winds up. So now that I'm spending less time looking at fast cars and loose women (ok fine, I still LOOK at fast cars, but I drive a lame one), I've balanced it out by taking a new job at a very risky company.
I'm the Director of Product Development, and employee #6, at a new mobile startup company.
Let me clarify what I mean by "new".
My first day, they handed me my laptop, but had no desk/office for me to use. In fact, there were NO desks/cubes/anything in the whole office. Those showed up the next day. The product I'll be running, doesn't exist yet. It's in development though, so at least there's that.
My fourth day, didn't happen at all. I was put on a plane to the east coast, and am writing this from a hotel in Annapolis, MD. When I return to San Diego on Wednesday, I'll have been to Annapolis, Charlottesville Virginia, and Ft Lauderdale.
So, while the stories of me with women will become limited to people from the past... I think I'll be able to come up with a few of life at a startup.
ps. changing laptops sucks. I lost all my bookmarks.
Todd
7 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Wed, 09 Nov 2005 15:27:00 GMT
Men, left on their own, are animals.
At least thats what boobed people would say.
Now, personally I'd argue that we are simply practical. A few examples.
* It's perfectly reasonable to have only one bath towel. You are only one person.
* That same towel can be used as an ironing board, when combined with a table.
* If you iron on the kitchen table, it makes sense to have the iron in it.
* Washcloths... Why?
* Making the bed. I can't even fathom.
It takes a few dates for these things to be noticed.. Mainly because any guy that wants to sleep with you (read: any that invite you to their apartment), will disguise these traits until at least date 3. If you want proof, open up a few closets or drawers after showing up at his place. Whatever falls out, was on the floor before you came over.
Remember... in guy land, if it can't be seen, it must be clean.
But, eventually, inevitably, the truth comes out.
When a woman encounters the real bachelor enviornment, a few things happen. First, they laugh at you... generally out loud. That goes on for a few dates, usually dates 3-5 or so.
After that, you will start to observe the effects of introducing a non-native species to an environment. I'm not talking about contracting diseases here...but...changes...
Pink things begin to appear. In my case, in the form of a loofa, or whatever those girl washcloth on a rope things are.
My bed was made when I came home, and my pants were folded.
There is a rubber ducky on my sink.
I have FOOD...IN MY REFRIGERATOR PEOPLE! (not much though)
As it turns out, all these things are quite nice. I mean, who doesn't like a rubber ducky? I don't use the loofa thinger, but it's better than a stinky girl.
Now, there are downsides to even subtle domestication. You see, left on his own a guy will have smaller dinners, consisting mostly of scotch and pretzels. However with a woman present, especially one that appreciates food, actual meals are often consumed... and...wait for it.... sometimes cooked!
This is why married people are fat.
Don't worry. I'm not married or anything (or fat..yet). But.. have you ever had one of those dates that starts out on a Tuesday, and a few weeks later you realize you have been on the equivalent of 45 dates in a row?
I'm going to go play with the duck.
Later.
9 comments | 69 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Mon, 07 Nov 2005 15:58:00 GMT
Note: This is not the girl I'm dating now.. it is a story from sometime in the past. You will have to guess how long ago.
It's been said that you can't judge a book by it's cover. However,when you meet a woman who claims to be a foodie, but weighs under a hundred pounds and never takes more than 3 bites of a meal....it's a safe bet she's a bit off.
Meet Javelin Girl. Also known as "The Biter".
The Biter and I talked on the phone and computer for a while before we ever went out on a date. We didn't have very much in common, and she seemed pretty boring, but she was cute! Cute gets you pretty far... At least for a few dates. So eventually we met up for drinks and sushi downtown.
Now, everybody knows that when you meet a new woman, she makes a snap judgment on you almost instantly. Certainly within the first hour, she pretty much knows the score (and whether or not you will). With that in mind, anything that you have in common that comes up in that timeframe, is HUGE. Strangely, the stars had aligned this night.
As I've mentioned before, when I first came to San Diego I lived in an area called Hillcrest, which is the gay neighborhood. The Biter had too, and after a few minutes it turned out that we lived in the EXACT SAME APARTMENT. I moved in right after she moved out.
Those are the types of coincidences that get women's gears turning. Pretty much all I had to do for the rest of the night is refrain from insulting her immediate family, and I was in.
So, one drink turns into several, and then she calls her roommate, who had driven her downtown. The roommate was in place as a quick out in case I had two heads or something, but since we had this great connection thing going, we all wound up bar hopping around town.
Long story short, the three of us wind up in my apartment. It's a lock.
My apartment causes women's clothes to fall off.
They take a seat on the windowsill and look out over downtown, have a flashback of some trashy romance novel, and that's about it. I don't let people into my apartment very often, but I'm batting 1000 when it happens.
So much so, that her roommate said, "Ok. I approve. Do you have any friends?", and then suggested to The Biter that she should just stay and get a ride home from me the next day. I think roommate had come up with the idea when The Biter spilled wine on her shirt, and had decided just to take it off and then ask me to borrow a t-shirt while she was half naked.
ANYWAY... The quiet, reserved looking, skinny girl and I wind up going to bed. I'll leave out the details.
Flash forward to next morning:
The bitch bit me!
HARD!
And slapped, and pinched, and made it pretty obvious that she expected the same. She gave me a bruise shaped like a bite mark on my chest, and scratches down my back, it was like I'd been attacked by a badger...or a beaver, if you will.
Unfortunately, we had *nothing* in common, and she turned out to be a chain smoker. So after a few more dates we just sort of stopped talking. But at least now I've learned to keep a bottle of Bactine in my drawer.
So, next time you go on a date, make sure you check for a rabies tag.
2 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Mon, 07 Nov 2005 13:23:00 GMT
Ok, I still have a few quirks (like when you browse the archives), but other than that my stuff is all working again. Let me know if you see anything that's busted!
I'll post some new stories today also... about a couple women I met not too long ago.
P.S. If you are keeping score, I'm dating the 22 year old still, and it appears she's not going anywhere. (as evidenced by that body washer thing that looks like a screwed up jellyfish hanging in my shower). So, my NEW random date stories will probably be gone for a while... Don't worry though, weird shit will continue to happen.
-T
no comments | 68 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 05 Nov 2005 03:49:00 GMT
Ok, so things are underway... bear with me as I'm having technical difficulties with my new template/design. (notice, you can't comment, because I screwed something up).
I'll have it fixed soonish.
Also, if anyone knows why my logo is overlapping the blogger nav bar, holla!
Might be fixed now.... blah blah blah
-T
1 comment | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 29 Oct 2005 17:18:00 GMT
There's an old'ish saying, "On the internet, nobody knows you're a fish.".
Having spent enough time here, I know that people are often not who they seem, which makes me skeptical of everything online.
When the gorgeous 22 year old from match.com contacted me... well I presumed she was really a 45 year old guy.
Luckily, I'm good at the internet. If it can be found, I can find it, so in following with the recent stalker theme... The girl was hunted down. It only took about 10 minutes to find her Flickr photostream, as she uses the same handle everywhere. She is, in fact, a hot 22 year old.
Now, even though it was essential to prove her legitimacy, I still felt pretty bad about sneaking around when she was being honest. I had gathered all sorts of information based on the photos. She seemed like a party girl... She had a lot of friends... She spent a lot of time in Finland as well as the US.. She liked making out with girls...
Works for me.
So, in true Napoleon Dynamite style.. I've been chatting online with babes all day. Flippin Sweet!
We were trading pictures (with me still not letting on that I'd seen plenty), and she says "I like this one of you". Then she sent me my Blogger.com photo. She'd found this site. Fuck.
Shockingly, she still came over. At 3am. On a Tuesday.
At any rate, this story is really MUCH more involved and humerous... but since she will probably read this, it's not getting shared here. The short is, I've just started dating a girl who is probably too young for me, but seems to have her shit together a lot more than most women my age. This one might be around for awhile.
Why does she want to date an old man like me?
Hell if I care.
(ps.. I'm going to buy a new bachelor domain today that isn't tied to me. If you comment here regularly, I'll let you know where it is soon)
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags birth of bachelor todd, emily, finland, lesbians | 17 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 13 Oct 2005 21:24:00 GMT
Charity. Not an ex-girlfriend.(although I try)
An important activity when traveling is to sample the local flavor. In particular, the local flavor of beer.
Luckily Charity and I have a long history of drinking copious amounts of alcohol together. Together we set out to see who went blind first.
After giving me a couple hours head start by attending a family dinner, she showed up at the bar I'd found. Brewski's, which as you can tell by the name, is a classy little joint, and is near the Arkansas college campus. Really, how wrong can you go with a name like Brewski's?
The reader may have noticed that I like weird people... and my friends... it was like a weirdo convention had descended on us. Either that, or I think shit's funny when I'm drunk.
Whatever.
A few warmup weirdo's, and it was pro time. Let me tell you folks, these boys didn't screw around, and I'm pretty sure I've got a chunk of a BBQ sammich lodged in my heart from laughing so hard.
We were sitting at a table right next to the sidewalk, for maximum hilarity, when a guy walked by looking pretty angry/scary. He had a roll of duct tape in his hand, and it appeared he was ready to beat someone with it. After he walked past once, he turned around and walked up to us. It was a bit intimidating at first, especially given the first words out of his mouth.
(In my best southern redneck accent) "Hey, you wanna make a quick three dollars?".
I couldn't make this shit up. He *actually* said that.
Me (dumbfounded): Naah, I'm good. (as
THIS popped into my head)
DuctMan: Cmon, three dollars, it'l only take a minute.
Me (somewhat afraid to ask): What do you want me to do?
DuctMan: Ah got ah torn rotator cuff and ah need someone to tape me up.
*blink*....*blink*...
Now, in hindsight, I *never* should have passed up the chance to duct tape a hillbilly, but I told him I didn't want to hurt him any more and declined. (Also, I feel somewhat bad about this now because he was probably in pain, but hey, WHO SAYS THAT!)
DuctMan (walking into the bar to ask someone else): Naah, you won't hurt me more, less yer real mad at me.
Charity and I sort of stared at each other for a minute while the guy went around the bar asking other people and eventually found a girl who said she'd do it. He wasn't kidding. He took off his jacket said, "ya just go round mah shoulder, then round mah chest.. then back over mah shoulder. do that three four times". She accidentally taped his skin, but he said that was ok and put on his jacket and left.
At least he didn't have a toothache, or need a physical.
Next, a man who looked a LOT like Dee Snyder walked out. (Dee pictured below for anyone who has forgotten all that is Twisted Sister)
Dee went and got on this crazy looking motorcycle that I'm *pretty* sure he built himself. He was wearing a lot of tight leather, so Charity and I were already laughing pretty hysterically when something happened that I still haven't quite recovered from seeing.
I'd looked away for a minute, and Charity says "Oh nuh uh." Yuh huh.
A woman no less than 65 years old, I'm presuming his mother, walked out and proceeded to put on a pair of huge biker goggles. She climbed on the back of the bike and sat there for a while while Dee backed the bike up across 2 lanes of traffic and took off with her.
I decided that if one more thing happened, I was moving there just for the humor value. Luckily that was it for the strange ones.
It's a sign of the times people... tight leather is coming back. I for one won't be missing the boat this time.
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags arkansas, charity, drinking, duct tape, future ex-wife, rednecks, wedding | 14 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 08 Oct 2005 16:42:00 GMT
Part 1 in a multipart series.
I'd never been to Arkansas. It's shocking, given how culturally diverse and metropolitan the state is known to be. There is a first time for everything.
Hello from Eureka Springs, Arkansas! Population 2,032. Don't you wonder how often they update that sign?
Now, a valid question would be "Todd, why the hell are you in Arkansas?". In fact I asked myself that very question as I was driving past the 47th group of cows on the way from the airport to the town. The closest airport was 50 miles.
The answer is simple, a hot girl asked me to come.
The trip was made largely to hang out with my old roommate, who is a bridesmaid in the wedding. Her now ex-boyfriend/date turned out to be pre-occupied with...well.. being married with 2 kids that she didn't know about, so I volunteered to stand in. (Oh yeah! She found this out using Google, which returned his home phone number, which in turn was answered by his wife. Sounds familiar eh?)
This is where being single really has it's benefits. See, I might be a busy guy.. not having time for all this "cleaning", and "doing laundry" stuff, but you have to have your priorities straight. A gathering full of women dressed to kill and drinking heavily, where I share a room with a bridesmaid?
I've had worse weekend plans.
So after sprinting across the Houston Airport to make a connection, I hit the ground in Fayetville, Arkansas. Brides Maid was off at the rehearsal dinner, so I drove into town and went exploring. Donning the local attire (Jeans and a baseball hat), it was pretty easy to blend in, and the locals seemed pretty talkative.
Christ there's only 2000 of them, they better be up for making new friends.
The first two bars I went into were nice, but fairly emtpy. Actually they may have been full, it was difficult to tell through the smoke. It was clear that I had not found the right place... in a new town, you have to find the locals.
It was like a game of Where's Waldo, but with long hair and beards. Leather was also very popular.
Anyway. Having traveled alone before, I knew the secret to becoming a local in 2 hours flat: Make friends with the bartenders, preferably female ones.
Luckily, this is a skill of mine.
See, a bartender is just doing their job. They don't really want to be there. They want to be somewhere else... generally, at another bar full of crazy service industry people. This is the bar you must find.
Seems easy right? Well, it can be, but there are a few rules to keep in mind.
#1: Make sure the bartender *really* likes you. These people are paid to be nice. They are
not paid to send some asshole to their favorite bar. Read them wrong and you might wind up in a place that favors leather chaps.
#2: Get multiple opinions. You need a sample size greater than 1. Look, everyone has a favorite bar... but some people have really poor taste. You want to bar hop to a few places, and ideally have two unrelated bartenders (difficult in Eureka), tell you the same thing.
After a few hours, I divined that "Chelsea's" was the place I needed to be. Walking in, it reminded me of a place called the "Copper Coin" where I went to college, but with even more hicks. A folk band was playing, so Michelobe Light in hand, sat down at a table and watched the crowd.
It only took a few minutes and the rest of the table was overtaken by various oddballs, including Kathy. Kathy was older, and a librarian. Can you imagine a less interesting job than being a librarian in a town that size? Still, she was entertaining to talk to.
Turns out, tonight was the FIRST time she had seen the destruction of New Orleans on television. She didn't have one, and apparently didn't get out much. WHY she didn't get out much I'm not sure, because when we started talking about storms it became clear that there was little difference between being out, or in, where she lived.
We talked about ice storms, and I swear she actually said this: "Losing electricity would be bad for me, since I only have electric heat. I use one of those plug in heaters. I guess one good thing would be that the pipes wouldn't freeze. I just carry in water."
.......
........
.........
YOU WHAT!
The woman had no running water in her house.
At that point I stopped asking questions, and went off to find Brides Maid. The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful.
Next up: Tie hunting. More Locals. Tips for Airline CEO's.
Posted in Travel | Tags arkansas, being a local, charity, drinking, weddings | 7 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Tue, 04 Oct 2005 20:34:00 GMT
Loose lips sink ships. It's quickly becoming clear that having a website with my name on it could be....problematic.
Discussing the details of my Seinfeldian dating life has always been fun, but Google is going to get me in trouble sooner or later.
You see, people, and women in particular, are sneaky weasels.
They investigate things..It's extremely common to "Google" someone before you go on a date. That used to be fine, because there are thousands of Todd Allens. Somehow though, out of 9,470,000 results for my name, I have become #9. Finding me on the internet has become the online equivalent of finding a Starbucks, and when is the last time you saw a Starbucks on a date! Huh?! Tell me that!
I'm screwed, or rather if my dates start looking me up, I'm not. This will not stand.
So until I remedy this problem, my stories are going to be less timely. I'm imposing a post-mortem rule on all dating related posts. You won't hear the story until the girl is gone for good. It's the only way I can keep telling them in the traditional/non-PC manner, without being stabbed in my sleep.
Sucks too.. I had a really funny/good weekend. All I can say for now is that step #2 from the getting dumped guide is complete, and went *much* better than anticipated given my current lack of hair.
I'll try and remember some oldies/goodies until the time lag works itself out.
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags busted, cock block, google | 27 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 24 Sep 2005 14:43:00 GMT
The famous bachelor/writer P.J. O'Rourke summed up bachelor thinking when he wrote: "How often does a house need to be cleaned, anyway? As a general rule, once every girlfriend. After that she can get to know the real you.".
My place is *slightly* better than that, I clean it once a month or so. Like everyone else in my generation, I'm almost certainly ADHD.. so I *start* cleaning oh... every 30 minutes, but then I get distracted by the noise outside, or to get a drink of water, or to write these stories. So basically it never gets finished until one day I come home and have a panic attack, or can't find a place to sit. Then I throw things away until it's better.
Until now.
C'mon, I'm a busy guy. I don't have time for all this "sweeping", and "picking up". If I'm picking something up, it better have a nice ass. So what do you do?
You buy a roomba robotic vacuum cleaner, that's what you do.
I've named him Robert. (which is a joke very few of you will get, so don't worry.)
Robert is my new friend, and not only does he have my apartment looking freaking sweet, he has a remote control that I can chase the cat with. BONUS!!
Interestingly, having Robert has caused other things to be cleaner as well. Just like having weasels (ferrets, whatever), or kids (I presume), you can't just leave random stuff on the floor or it will get chewed up and eaten. So I had to pick up all the socks off the floor and hide the 86 miles of electronics wires that run everywhere. You could almost eat off the floor, if I had anything to eat here.
It's almost like having a roommate. It sits in it's room (the kitchen) until it gets enough energy to do something, and then it sort of stumbles around the apartment, bumping into walls, eating whatever it can get it's hands on. Once it's had enough of that and it's battery is drained, it crawls back to it's room and declares itself victorious (seriously.. It makes the duh duh duh duh!!! (charge!) noise.)
Ok.. having said that.. it's *exactly* like having a roommate.
There is only one downfall to this wonderful invention... It's only a matter of time until I destroy it. See, it's got little USB connectors on the side of it, and I've heard that you can hook it up to a computer and reprogram it. So, whenever I find the right cable, I'll kill it almost immediately.
Just like my roommate. *shriek!!!*
Tags cleaning, ferrets, humor, roomba | 24 comments | no trackbacks
