Speaking of Seamen...

Halloween is a beloved holiday for adult Americans.  It involves the three components on which this fine country was founded: consuming mass quantities of sugar, looking like an idiot, and getting drunk.

I like to think that I'm a fun person.  Once I took an Irish car bomb and another time I even rode Space Mountain 3 times in a row...after a plate of fried vegetables. I don't know what more you people could want from me, but on Halloween I just can't hang.  

The pressure of finding the perfect costume is debilitating to the point where I can't even show my face on all Hallows Eve due to a stomach ache and the extra 10 lbs I've put on from all the Snicker's fun sized bars I've stress eaten.  It's just not in my nature to put on a pair of spiky black ears, hot pants and a tube top and hit the scene as a slutty cat.  I don't think I've ever met a slutty cat to even know how to get into character, and if I wanted a man dressed as Superman to oggle my ass cheeks I'd go to Hollywood Boulevard on a Tuesday morning.

That leaves the witty/funny costume category as my only hope.  You'd think someone as naturally hilarious (pathetic) as myself would have this down.  Unfortunately, my humor gets a little lost in translation on the wardrobe front.  There's a terrible Seaman costume idea in there somewhere.  So as you see, I'm screwed. 

Speaking of Seamen, if we're going to get down to brass tacks, Halloween is only the second best holiday in October. Maybe this is because I'm bitter about my failure to produce a worthy costume year after year, or because I'm lazy, but Columbus Day is the real star of the 10th month.  Christopher Columbus was a damn fool.  However, each year when we celebrate his mediocrity, at least we get a day off school or work.  So go have fun with your women in various states of undress with an assortment of ears glued on their head bands.  You can have your chocolate comas and haunted houses.  Me and old Chris will be kickin back in India...I mean America...and awaiting the start of November.

NowayCupid

I joined OkCupid.  For those of you under a rock, OkCupid is equivalent to online shopping...except instead of shoes, you scout out men, and instead of Paypal, it's free.  It got it's name because whenever you're scrolling through matches you're tempted to say, "Ok, Cupid, REALLY??! There's an 87 percent chance that this bisexual man from Jersey City and I are meant for each other???"  Regardless, I'm in.  I've always been terrified of the idea of online dating.  I want a meet-cute between my soon-to-be leading man and I.  As my dear friend Andrew knows, I'm convinced this will happen in the dairy aisle at the grocery store.  I have self-gathered and highly unreasonable statistical evidence supporting these odds.  I can't help but believe in fate, but has fate evolved with the times, including the Internet in its web?  I'm just not convinced.

I'm overwhelmed, I'm confused, I'm on an old episode of The Dating Game....bachelors number 1 through 5,436: describe the 6 things you can't live without.  The profile questions are laughable, yet how to talk yourself up without sounding too pretentious?  How to say...aren't I charming answering these formulaic questions designed to unlock the real essence of me?  Allow me a couple hours to work on the essence of me, and I'll let all you potential suitors know what that is once I've hashed out a few rough drafts.

For example... On a Friday night I'm at a concert, I'm at a bar, I'm jetsetting to Bali.  On a Friday night I'm actually eating Doritos on my couch with Netflix, but no one wants to date Couch Girl.   Don't you want to be mine based on my 3 carefully chosen and Instagrammed profile pictures of me wearing sunglasses and making duck lips?

 In true form, my profile has turned out sarcastic and self-depricating, with one mention of my elbow-licking ability...and apparently that's what all the single bachelors in the NYC metropolis are looking for.  I'm fascinated by the number of men who have latched on to one specific fact I mentioned in my profile and have gone on to create messages of sonnets, novels, and short stories about said fact worth publication in The New Yorker.  I was expecting creepers throwing out sweepingly general compliments about my eyes or my smile... something more along the lines of "gurl, u sexy."  Instead I've genuinely laughed at these men's attempts to catch my attention...so witty in their hope.  But alas, my dear OkCupid love matches, I just can't bring myself to have coffee with you or grab a drink, and to that one guy who asked me to go camping - I've alerted the appropriate authorities about you.  I'm so sorry, it's been fun and silly and flattering...but my soulmate is waiting for me between the 2% milk and the Yoplait.