Dating in LA: Scooter

Scooter really is his name. Maybe I should have made up an alias for him, but honestly, the name is like, 80% of the story.

So, the two of us were texting before our blind date, and naturally I dropped that I had a blog because, truth be told, this thing is a real dick magnet. Sorry, for the crude phrasing, but there is no better way to put it. This blog is the Greased Lightening of digital media.

Scooter asked if I was going to blog about him.

Although I was entering into this date with an open mind, I knew somewhere deep down the odds were that I would end up blogging about a blind date with a guy named Scooter.

And here we are.

I have no choice. You know who did have a choice? Scooter’s parents. They did not have to name their kid Scooter, practically forcing me to blog about him.

But like I told Scooter, I only blog about people if you give me something to blog about. Bless his heart, he thought I meant if we had a great date, but I set him straight and let him know that this was all in his hands. I only blog about a guy when he gives me 400+ words worth of material (See: 700 words on The Bicycle Thief). Unfortunately for Scooter, I’ve already passed 200 words and I haven’t even made it to the restaurant yet.

Scoots and I met at a restaurant in West Hollywood, where the waitresses’ uniforms looked like they were in a production of Newsies at Saint Agatha’s School for Wayward Girls. It was both adorable and uncomfortable.

To get the conversation rolling, I told Scootie-Toots that he looked like Peter from Homeland. 

MV5BMjEyNzk5MjIwNV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDA5MzM3OA@@._V1._SX600_SY800_With a cold, dead stare he said, “no, I don’t.” (SOMETHING PETER FROM HOMELAND WOULD SAY).

It was as if I just told him he looked like Mandy Patinkin.

“But it’s a compliment,” I told him. Maybe he thought I meant Mandy Patinkin? “He’s the young guy who works with Carrie on season 2.”

“No, I know who you’re talking about, I just don’t look like him. We’re just both the same age with dark hair. That would be like if I told you that you look like Emma Stone just because you’re both pale red heads.”

K, SCOOTER!

At this point, I’m a little miffed. Obviously, I look like Lindsay Lohan circa Herbie Fully Loaded.

“Right, but I don’t look like Emma Stone and you do look like the guy from Homeland.”

From there the conversation only went down hill. We moved on from him vaguely insulting my skin tone to him flat out pooping on the city where I basically grew up.

“So, where did you go to school?” Scoots-boots inquired.

“Emerson College in Boston.”

“Oh, I spent about 6 months there for a TV show I was producing… Terrible city.”

“You know that those Boston Marathon bombings occurred in Boston, right? Like, two days ago.”

“Ya, it doesn’t make it any less of hell hole.”

It should be noted that Scooter was saying all of this in a pin striped blazer. He was saying this in a pin striped blazer, and this whole time his name was SCOOTER.

Finally, the bill comes, and I made a VERY half-hearted courtesy reach for the check. He looks at it and says to me, “guess what our waitress’s name is.”

“Melissa.”

“Worse, Victoria.”

SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOOOOOOOTERRRRRRR!!!!!

Victoria, if you are reading this, you were perfectly lovely, and those suspenders looked darling on you.

Scooter, if you are reading this, you can’t have that poor of an attitude AND be named Scooter.

Razor Scooter and I have not spoken since.

razor-scooter_main042811

The Fictional Carrie Scale of Poor Decision Making Skills

The fictional Carries of film and television have a long and storied history of using questionable judgement. Because their life choices are so varied in their levels of stupidity, Carries are the perfect subject for a scale that can measure the poor decision making skills of others.

carriescale

Homeland Spoiler Alerts Ahead:  I’m being really nice letting you know because at this point you should have stopped procrastinating and finished the second season. You can’t just keep backlogging episodes while we all walk on eggshells. Next time you get no warning. Put aside a wine and snuggle weekend and just finish that shit! 

0-2, or Carrie Heffernan: Carrie of King of Queens is a hottie whose status is confirmed by another hottie, Zack Morris. Despite spending a magical summer with him at Malibu Sands Beach Club, she somehow ends up with a fat UPS worker. Though she is way out of her husband’s league, he does put up with her father that lives with them and almost ruins their lives every 22 minutes, something Zack probably wouldn’t deal with. Overall, not such a terrible decision, depending on your feelings for Kevin James.

3-5, or Carrie White: Carrie in Carrie is only a 3-5 because she couldn’t really help going all telekinesis-y, and it was the other kids’ faults for the pig’s blood. The bad decision was not listening to her mother that everyone was going to laugh at her if she went to prom. However crazy your mom might be, she’s usually right about that stuff. Know when to take good advice.

6-8, or Carrie Bradshaw: It is my opinion that the difference between being a girl and being a woman is whether or not you believe that Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City is an acceptable role model. How many Style Network marathons did it take for you to realize she’s a needy, selfish woman? Putting aside whether or not she should have married Aidan, the dude offered to refinish her floors foh’ FREE, and after only a couple hours with the noise of the sander, she gives him some attitude, goes to a hotel and CHEATS on him! You did not have to do him like that, Carrie. You could have just written at Starbucks like the rest of us. That is some above average poor decision making.

9-10, or Carrie Mathison: For all the terrible, unavailable men Carrie Bradshaw dated, she never came close to dating the multi-hyphenate of awful that is Brody, the ginger-husband-father-terrorist that Carrie Mathison of Homeland fell in love with. I mean, you risk your life and career for this dude, and when you almost say you love him, he tells you “careful”?! Does this guy know he’s a terrorist?! AND A GINGER? Not only are you in love with a married, suicide vest wearing red head, you like him more than he likes you. If you’ve hit this red zone you should seek help immediately because you are now way beyond dating politicians with golden shower fetishes, and we need to adjust your medication before you start having jazz fits.

Homeland Could Be Jazzier

It’s Friday night and I’m doing a ‘lel blogging.

Did you know that one of the great things about being single is that you can eat Indian food whenever you want and nobody cares (except the two parents you live with but they can’t break up with you, so whatever). Also, I’ve watched two different programs today that included a moos-tach-ee-ode Steve Harvey, and I taught myself how to cross-stitch. Steve was giving some advice on marriage and I learned a lot, so if any gentleman would like me to embroider you a t-shirt made out of some wife material jus. leh. meh. know.

To carry you into the weekend, I’d like to share a video with you that you’ll only get if you watch Homeland. If you’ve never seen Homeland, go watch the two seasons and then while you’re at it watch Nashville, but before both of those watch Happy Endings, and then come back and watch this video created by the hilarious Julie Klausner for Vulture.com (click-y clack-y scat, scat, scat below).

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Star-Crossed Gingers

Have you ever seen two gingers dating? Two gingers holding hands, walking down the street? I, personally, have not. As a proud ginger, I have never dated a ginger man myself, not necessarily because I don’t like a red headed guy, but because two red heads together makes me very uncomfortable. However, you should also take into account that middle school couples or couples comprised of two short people (they remind me of middle schoolers) also makes me uncomfortable. Also, I don’t know how anyone feels offended by gay relationships when there are couples who look related to one another walking around like what they’re doing is natural. Maybe I’m wrong about this ginger theory since my threshold for tolerating things is very low, but I also know that I’m right, so there’s that.

It’s a sad thing, being right about everything. Especially in this case. There are so many gingers I can never love because our hair keeps us apart. The only men I would consider overlooking the creepy ginger couple thing would be:

Brody from Homeland OR Damian Lewis. I would take this ginger in any form: fictional married terrorist or dramatic actor. Both situations are not ideal, but I love him so much.

Ginger Doctor from Grey’s Anatomy. I was blanking on his character’s name so I just typed that in and Google knew exactly what I was talking about, which is kind of sad for him. I like him on the show even though (or because?) he kind of looks like a werewolf when he talks.

Prince Harry. Honestly, I shouldn’t even be telling you how many times I’ve thought that if he and I fell in love what a pain in the ass it would be to dye my hair and get new headshots. But I’d do it for you, Harry. I would give up this life as a red headed, mediocre blogger and waitress with thousands of dollars in student loan debt…. for you. For love.