Every first date is exactly the same.  In an attempt to look like a good/non racist person, what you reveal about yourself is the same-old politically correct garbage. You both like to read (mostly magazines), cook in your spare time (but not really), and are a generally chill person who prefers to just hang out with awesome friends (mostly the uglier ones who make you look better by comparison). I’m not trying to complain, or be dramatic but first dates are so boring — I’d rather jerk my dog off at home (but not really). 

In order to save time, I’ve decided to be the gentlemen in this situation and just let out all of my closeted skeletons (insert some easy joke here about my skeletons being gay). 

So let’s speed shit up — I’m laying it all out there, so when we go on that ‘first date’ — you’ll already know that one time, I spat on a squirrel that got alarmingly too close, and we can just move on from there.

I Don’t Really Care About Michael Jackson

You’re making a face. I know. It doesn’t make sense.   He’s a pop phenomenon who may or may not have been killed by his doctor!  I cared when Khloe Kardashian felt like Chewbacca next to her much skinnier sisters, or when Giuliana Rancic got pregnant against all odds, or when Lana Del Rey used to be an ogre named Lizzie Grant — I USUALLY EAT THIS SHIT UP.  But when it comes to the king of pop, I can’t be bothered.  Maybe I missed the boat, or maybe I’m too drunk.

My Feet Stink

I apologize in advance.  I do everything in my power to not have this problem.  I change my socks, weekly.  I clip my toenails, monthly.  And I get botox in them to not make them sweat, not really. In order to prepare you for the stench that you may experience, here are some metaphors that have been used to describe my feet:

“Your feet smell like a microwaved diaper.”

“Your feet smell like a lemon smoothie with pulverized squirrel bones.”

“Your feet smell like someone lit a Doritos bag filled with boogers on fire.”

“I’m leaving you because of your feet.”

I Love Mayonnaise

I know this isn’t really a crime or a vice, but for some reason, if someone has a problem with mayonnaise, they think I’m the grossest whore.   Okay, it’s sort of gross when I use more than four packets of mayonnaise on a chicken sandwich.  Or when the condiment creeps out of the corners of my mouth as I’m chewing— I’ll give you that.  But there are worst things — Like Amelia Earhart’s flying skills, or how we can’t find Amelia Earhart’s bones or how people make Amelia Earhart jokes that are in poor taste.  Stop being dramatic.

I Embellish Stories

Call it lying— I don’t care, I’m sorry — I crave the attention and the reaction I get from my audience members (mostly consisting of my unwilling parents and fishes).  When open ears are hanging onto my every word, I feel a responsibility to make every moment count.  That’s why I change some lame sauce story about my trip to CVS into an unfortunate run-in with an ex boyfriend, who just got engaged, and caught me buying hemorrhoid cream. Was there an ex-boyfriend? Do I have hemorrhoids?  Who cares!? You’re having fun, and I am too.  So, I’m basically doing you a favor. This is also why I tell you that the mugger was Black and that the bad driver was Asian.  It just adds color to the story, and has nothing to do with the fact that I use humor to mask my racism. 

When I’m Having A Bad Day, I Think Of Dolphins Drowning

Okay, wait—  let me explain myself.  This isn’t in some like serial killer way.  I don’t take pleasure in, like, thinking of dolphins not being able to breathe and then it’s, like, lifeless body floating to the surface of the ocean and then essentially just becoming obstacles for Japanese cruise lines.  Dolphins are generally made out to be these amazing creatures, that are super smart, and can fight sharks and who can talk to each other via telekinesis.  So when I’m having a bad day, the thought of these amazing swimmers drowning, is basically my way of saying, even the best fall down sometimes.  Right?!

I swear I’m not a monster.