#australians

Something weird happened. I got asked out- in real life. A dude walked up to me (well, he was serving me, so it was sort of his job) and asked for my number. I was so thrown off. No swiping right or left, no texting to give me time to think of something witty to write back… It was just me, sitting, looking at my friend Amanda with total confusion.

“Uhhhhhh, what?”

But since I’m like Carla from The Chew, a big believer in the “Power of Yes,” I said,

“Sure. Why not?”

Cuz why not? This guy is cute, Australian, and works in the service industry, so he’s probably a power drinker. Plus, I haven’t got laid in forever. I need to start checking out some options.

I don’t know how I got a dude I barely know to take me to the CNE (The EX- whatever you like to call it.) That’s a pretty lengthy first date, but I figure if he thinks I suck, or I think he sucks, at least we have all the carnies to keep us entertained. As it turns out, we’re neighbours, so we meet on the corner by my house to start off the date. (Neighbours- even more booty call potential. Woot Woot!)

We decide to stop at Paupers on the way to the Bathurst Streetcar. As we walk up the three staircases to the rooftop patio, he pokes his finger into my right butt cheek. It’s a little early for touching my bum, but he’s Australian- they’re fast movers. Maybe they want to get the most out of their visas. The accent works as a chick magnet. Not on ME, of course. I need to be impressed by what you say, not how it sounds. (Just kidding. I lost my virginity to an accent. They facking work, eh?)

The bar is rammed, and I can tell the bartender is in the weeds. We sit at a bar. He orders a Creemore. I order a cider. My date pipes up at my drink choice.

“Cider makes your vagina stink.”

Wow. This just in, folks. Cider makes your bing bang smell? And while I can’t trust that this man is the king of facts, nothing’s gonna resonate in my brain more EVERY TIME I order a cider, than what this man just said. And I really like cider in the summer. I wonder if you can cut the stinkiness in half by ordering a Black Velvet?

“You know what- I’ll have a Creemore instead.”

Alright. He wins this round. Maybe later I can convince him cotton candy makes your ding dong shrink.

My date quickly proves he is not shy, nor hiding anything.

“I’ve slept with 50 girls in the last year.”

Wow. And didn’t blog about it? What a waste…

“I’ve slept with 200 since I’ve been in Canada.”

Holy FACK! It’s just an accent. How is this guy scoring with so many chicks? And do I really want to be #201? Do I dare ask how many chicks he’s been with in total? Yikes. I know numbers shouldn’t matter if you really like someone, but I just got tested for everything under the sun. I have my test results posted on my fridge like a perfect report card. Are there extra-strength condoms, for a dude like this?

He burps. I don’t react. Can I? I’m a burper too. Not that I’m ready to bust out mine yet. We’re still on the first drink. His burps are more that low tone, bubbly, Grandpa kind. Mine are more like an Opera singer, coming straight from the diaphragm. Still, I feel like this burp (and the others he will continuously do all day) is the universe’s way of showing me what I look like… Yikes. Sorry, y'all.

We head over to the streetcar. As we head down Bathurst, on our baller transportation, he hollers at people on the street. Dear lord. We’re the ones on the TTC. I wouldn’t get too cocky…

At the gate to enter the EX, he by passes the ticket sales.

“Dude, we have to get a ticket first.”

“No, follow me.“ 

He pulls me over to the entrance, where he tries to convince the employee that we’re part of some VIP function inside. Right, cuz VIP’s are taking day trips to ride the Zipper. I stand there, embarrassed, and give the employee an apologetic look. When we get denied the free entrance he was hoping for, we walk over to the booth and buy tickets. We then enter the fairgrounds, with our heads lowered in shame. (Well, mine at least.)

We hit the food building first. Time to eat like a carny. My fave. In the building he starts walking up to random people, trying to steal food right off their plates. Some people think he’s charming, and allow him. Others are disgusted, and bark at him,

“EXCUSE ME!”

This is getting embarrassing. And on top of his fry stealing, he also motioned for a guy to throw his football at him. When the guy finally decides to throw it, my date ducks, to purposely miss catching it, landing the football dangerously close to a woman holding her baby. My jaw drops in shock. What a facking idiot! This was the point of the date where I ran to the bathroom and tweeted,

“Can I go back to Tinder now?”

My date can sense my irritation. Finally.

“I’m annoying you, aren’t I?”

“Umm… this is your date too. You get to act however you like…”

God damnit! Why do I have to be so nice all the time!? Why can’t I just lose my shit and say, 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” *

Oh ya… cuz I’m a total weeny…

“I just thought because you’re a comedian, you’d like that I was being funny.”

Oh for facks sake. First of all, this is NOT funny to me. I didn’t expect my date to turn into an impromptu episode of Punk’d… And just because I’m a comedian doesn’t mean I want to turn every moment of my life into a joke.

“Umm… I am a comedian, but I’m not one of those comedians who’s “on” all the time.  Sometimes, I’m just a normal chick… trying to enjoy a normal date…”

Now it’s awkward. I haven’t laughed at any of his “material.” He’s now well aware he’s bombing.

When we finish eating, we head out into the rows of carny games. He stops me at the basketball game, advertising, “ONE IN WINS.” He gives the carny five bucks.

“You have three shots. If you miss all three, you have to kiss me.”

FACK! This might be romantic, straight out of a Kate Hudson movie, and possibly even charming if I wasn’t so turned off at this point. But I agree to the bet, because I feel like a mom who’s just cursed at her kid. Now I feel bad, and want to be nice again. And I gotta say, I really focused on making those shots. Like NBA playoff game free throws. Even my date could tell.

“Wow. You really don’t want this kiss, do you?”

Haha! Well, he finally made me laugh. But you know how these carny games are rigged so you lose. Every shot bounced off the rim. I was soooooo close, despite how gimped I probably look in this picture. (Can somebody give me tips on my form?)

Alas, I lose. Facking carny games. He kisses me, with some real effort to impress. He’s trying to be passionate, which is not easy when you’re surrounded by whiffle balls and plastic ducks. The kiss actually makes me feel like I’M out of practice. I don’t think I’m opening my mouth enough for him… But then I think about how much cider I’ve drank this week, aaaaaaand… the moments done. Over. I’m out. I just can’t.  

It’s interesting. Most dates I walk into thinking,

I’m NOT going to sleep with him!

I’m NOT going to sleep with him!

I’m NOT going to sleep with him!

This date was the opposite. I’m kind of horny, haven’t got laid since August 2^nd, (now you know what I did on my blogging hiatus) and could really use some action. But not this action. Not #201. That’s the tricky part about being a girl. It’s so easy to get sex, but it’s so hard to get the sex you want… 

Part of me thinks he was just trying TOO hard to make me laugh, because I’m comedian. Another part of me fears that’s really how he acts all the time…

I would have added him on Facebook, but like most players, he’s not on Facebook. They don’t like being tracked, eh?

So here I am again…

Using my fingers for things other than rings,

(Maybe that will work after all…)

Walkinsauce 

*Notice I used the real F word there. Not FACK! That’s me getting ballsy, yo.

P.S. This picture is better, but only cuz I cropped my ass out.  

 The Communist Party of Australia condemns ongoing attempts on the part of the federal government to increase surveillance on ordinary Australians and to deny them their right to privacy and other political and human rights.

The current push to legislate for the retention of Internet users’ metadata must be defeated. Labor must stop its supine “bi-partisan” compliance with the demands of the Abbott government for more police state powers and stand up for the rights of Australians. Revelations from NSA whistle-blower Edward Snowden confirm that the electronic communications of people across the planet are being subjected to mass surveillance and harvested for later analysis. The Australian government must be compelled to protect the rights of the people it purports to represent.

The excuse offered for the mass spying project being put in place at the moment is that it protects Australians from acts of terrorism. Recent history puts lie to this claim. The perpetrator of the Lindt Café siege could not have done more to draw the attention of the responsible security forces to his violent potential. It is claimed 60 Australians are currently fighting with IS in Syria and Iraq and it has been confirmed that one person left Australia for this purpose using his brother’s passport. The recent arrest of two alleged would-be terrorists in Sydney followed a tip-off from a neighbour. Religion is being used for perverse political purposes. If the intention of the Australian government is truly to protect the population from terrorism this can and must be done without trampling on the rights of people to the privacy of their communications and without the construction of a police state.

http://www.cpa.org.au/

wrinkleshop:

Hey Joe

My god he’s hot! A sexy silver daddy in a suit