WTF online dating!?

It is becoming more and more apparent to me that perhaps I'm not cut out for the new wave of "how to date", or 'online dating'.

I remember dating back in my early 20's. It was mostly done at the bar, or at least the original pickup was, and it was based solely on looks, how much alcohol you'd consumed and whether you could handle it, and possibly on whether you had a car or a means of transportation. There were also other common elements, like the people you knew, the town you were from, and so on. It seemed... easy. It seemed less stressful.

Or maybe I'm deluding myself about how it was.

Maybe I'm just getting picky as I'm getting older. I don't want a one-night stand, and I'm not interested in dating someone who doesn't share at least a good portion of common interests with me. And if you can't type and spell, for God's sake, don't bother messaging me. Yes, I'm going to be very anal about this and show a high degree of snobbery, but when communication means a lot to you and is fundamental in your relationships with others, if you type me a "Hey, how r u doin" message, I'm going to question how well you know English (a), and (b), how much time I want to spend investing in finding out if you're worth my time. Especially when my profile has full sentences and proper grammar. I'm not on this online dating site to teach you English.

Not only that, but it would seem that my online dating profile attracts weirdos. And by weirdos, I mean the type of guy who feels that it's perfectly acceptable to message/chat/email a girl to tell them that the girl is pretty, that they're into "a long-term relationship", and also to ask them a sexual question. Maybe it is just me, but I feel it's pretty weird to ask these kinds of things to a complete stranger online. It's kinda like walking up to someone you think is pretty in the supermarket, telling them they're pretty, and, oh, by the way, hope they don't mind if you ask them a sexual question or two?

No? Not weird? Totally okay?

Needless to say, I think I'm going to take a pass at online dating. Somehow, I just don't see it as "for me".

My Nemesis: The Toilet

I've noticed over the years in my fine workplace that the women are downright nasty-ass when it comes to the workplace bathroom. I don't know what it is about communal toilets and their sanitary state, but it would seem that we really do need someone stationed in the john in order to make sure that it's at least presentable. My floor, in particular, seems to suffer from a post-hurricane-flurry of toilet paper and paper towel bits on the floor to turds left behind in the bowl. And while the image of a floater left behind (really? You don't check for anything 'missed' in a communal bathroom?) is just downright nasty, it blows my mind as to how this could happen. When you look at most of the women who use the bathroom here, they are so well put-together on the exterior that you'd never imagine their Neanderthal bathroom habits. These same women spend hours putting on makeup, matching their tights, and wearing quasi-business suits in the office. Seems rather … odd … that they leave the bathroom meant for others as if it were their own personal trash can that they can shit in and forget about it.

Anyway.

I've never been a big fan of work's bathrooms because of the toilet paper holder: an evil metal device that can cut a pair of tights faster than a small boy can fart. It's positioned in such a way on the wall that I have no workable leg room to do my business. Hard to believe, but it's true when you're a tall gal and overweight. Your knees bang up against that stupid thing and you end up silently cursing a blue streak because, hello, no verbal cussing in a professional work environment (insert eyeroll). The cutting of Very Nice Expensive Dress Pants escalates the number of profane thoughts, too.

In my fine workplace's bathroom, out of 12 stalls, about 2 of them have the toilet paper holder above where my knee is, making it possible for me to take a shit in comfort and peace. One of them in particular, has a problem with the concept of "flushing". In an industrial bathroom where gallons of water are flushed away, you wouldn't think that this is a problem, but this toilet is my nemesis: it wants my hand to swish around in there, feeling its nether regions. No word of a lie.

But I think I've finally beaten this stupid toilet.

I now line the toilet bowl with as much industrial-grade toilet paper that I can manage. The t-p goes in and lines around, making a nice layer between the ceramic of the bowl and whatever I had for lunch that day. And what do you know -- it works! No more dipping and swishing. No more ice-cold hands from the cold water. Success! I check to make sure that nothing's left behind, and I save water in the process. Truly a win-win!

Of course, I figure that this industrial grade toilet is going to get me in the end because it will recognize that the way to make me wimper is to clog itself with my extra t-p. But until that happens, I ain't worrying about it.