Shit. I’m early. I showed up early for a blind f*cking date. Is that good or bad? I really have no idea what the etiquette is for this type of thing. Should I go in? I shouldn’t go in. Maybe I should. I dunno. Johnny set me up on this blind date, and he’s so unpredictable. Sometimes he’ll bang really hot chicks, but sometimes he’ll also bang sea cows. It all depends on if this is a friend of one of the hot chicks, or one of the sea cows. I guess I’ll never know until I get in there and see what’s up.
Okay, she’s not here yet. That’ll give me some time to decide if I want to go through with this. If the chick comes in and she looks likes Marlon Brando covered in margarine, I can just go to the bathroom real quick before she sees me and then duck out of here, kick Johnny’s ass later, and pretend like it never happened. What if she’s hot, though? What if, by some stroke of ridiculous luck, she’s like the hottest chick I’ve ever seen? What if she’s expecting me to be Marlon Brando covered in margarine?
Shit. I should’ve taken a longer shower. I should’ve used more deoderant. I should’ve worn a less-gay looking sweater, too. Maybe I should’ve brought a smart person book with me or something, so she’ll think that I’m smart and interesting. What am I gonna talk about? Shit. I’m not very interesting. I really should’ve thought about all of this before I agreed to this blind date. Okay, we’ll probably start with a casual conversation. She’ll ask me normal "getting to know you"-type questions: what I do for work, how long I’ve lived here, where I’m originally from.
Shit. There’s no bigger turnoff than being from Phoenix, Arizona. I’ll have to work around that. Maybe I can just avoid the question. Maybe I can tell her I’m from somewhere else! Yeah, that’s perfect. I’ll tell her I’m from somewhere else.
Yeah, that’s better. I’ll tell her I’m from Paris. But what if she’s from France? Nah, there’s no way that I’d pick the one city that she’s from to use as my bullshit hometown. What if she is French, though? That would be so hot. Are French chicks the ones that shave a lot of their pubes, or none of them? God dammit. Why can’t I remember these things when it matters most?! Ah, what’s it matter anyway? She’s already 7 minutes late. She probably got freaked out and decided to bail on—–
—-Son of a Bitch. I’m gonna kill Johnny.