Well I’m at Panera Bread, thinking that by having an nice Panini sandwich and watching the bustling of people around me, it would put me in a mellow enough mood to blog something up.

All I’m seeing now though is a bunch of ugly looking people who bother me just by being ugly, couples who bother me because they’re couples and have to make a point of showing the whole world that they’re couples (hold on while I go outside to let the air of the tires of said couple’s car…  yeah, let’s see how manly you are now for having a girlfriend when you have to call AAA.  Ha-Ha!)

Then there’s the schmuckaroos that stare at me like I just landed from Mars.  Yes I have a laptop, which means I probably have more money than you.  Yes, I’m by myself, which just means I was smart enough to stay single.  What the f__ is it to you?  Staring is rude, so knock it off before I decide to cram that Asiago Roast Beef sandwich you’re sucking on down your douche hole.

I know some people might interpret my behavior here as being antisocial, but that’s not true.  I just hate people, is all.  They’re rude, obnoxious, mean, and they smell bad.  In other words, they remind me of me. 

But you know what the worst thing about all this is?  Panera Bread took Crispanis off the menu.  Bastards!!!!

I’m outta here.

A new study reveals that women who wed men who are uglier than they will have a happier marriage than those with a more attractive mate.

In couples where the wife is the hotter one, both parties seem to be content, found a study of 82 newlywed duos in the Journal of Family Psychology.

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Source: NY Daily News

Well yippie kai yay for normally b.s. psycho studies. I think they finally got a clue here.

Of course my luck would have me living in a town where any given hot woman here is so mind numbingly deprived of intelligence that she can’t even wise up to this little factoid, despite being on husband #5. Face it, we hairy-butt faces make far better lovers than the chiseled dweebs you chose to go with.

Of course, it’s also entirely possible that I’m being too hard on myself here, and the reason why I’m having so much trouble finding a date is because I am in fact, just so damned good looking.

Oh well, I guess that’s a cross I’ll just have to bear.

My subscription to Match.com expired recently, concluding yet another sad chapter in my never ending search to find my snuggle bunny. I got over 300 views, and of those who read my profile and sent me winks, many were either 19 year old single mothers with 5 kids looking for a Daddy, 40-something year olds looking for a boy toy, or Russian women looking for a visa. I actually paid money for this?

There’s little doubt Match.com has been amongst the crappiest crappity-crap crapfest of a craphole dating site I’ve ever used. And what irks me even more is their glowing boast of how millions subscribe to their dating service, yet what they don’t tell you is that those “millions” get shrunk to thousands by state, then down to hundreds by locality, then to dozens when ruling out the whackos, then to one who is PERFECT for you, but just as you’re about to wink at her, she closes down her account after the guy at work finally works up the moxie to ask her out.

You would think an alternative dating site might prove more fruitful, but it seems the same women can be found on these sites as well. And I don’t mean similar people mind you, I mean the SAME EXACT women. Evidently this is the choice I’m left with: pay 30 dollars a month for one dating site, and if I’m unhappy with it, I can cancel my account and sign up for a completely unrelated matchmaking site for only 10 dollars more a month, offering… uh…. the same exact group of single women.

I’m beginning to think ringing up the DC Madam might not be such a bad idea after all. What I don’t get though is how some of the brothers can sign up for these very same sites and meet the girl of their dreams 30 seconds later. Fine. Here’s a toast hoping your marriages end just as quickly, where your precious love is replaced by alimony and child support payments that quite unfortunately for you will never, ever end. So there. Bastards.

But I’m not bitter.

Really though, I’m getting tired of you fricking happy dappy, lovey dovey, smoochie woochie herd of pervs always getting in my face no matter where I go. I can’t enjoy a hot chocolate at Starbucks without you sitting next to me and nuzzling noses. I can’t watch a movie without you guys sucking faces or stroking each other’s hair front and center. I can’t even go to the park and just try to enjoy the mother-fricking nice spring weather without seeing a whole parade of you walking around holding hands, or playing kissy faces, or rolling around on the grass as if the world were your very own bedroom.

May you all spontaneously combust into ashes. May the plague of mankind descend on you like molten lava on a village. May the wasps of a thousand hives sting all your insides with deathly poison. May… lots of bad things happen to you.

I need to take some valium now.