Ye Olde Blogge Poste

Last week I went to the Renaissance Festival. That might sound really dorky if you don't happen to live in Michigan or have one near you. Actually...it sounds really dorky even if you're familiar with the Ren Fest. But let me clarify: I attended the Ren Fest. I patronized it. I did not participate in the whole costume-accent-Medieval vernacular sense. Some friends and I hung out for the day.

I have a soft spot for the Renaissance Festival. I think it's fun and quirky and ohhh my the people watching. It's top notch people watching. You see things that you cannot unsee. I think one of the biggest reasons I sort of enjoy going is that in retrospect, I can trace my questionable decision making back to that grove of trees. Sometime during my high school years, I found myself wandering around there with a couple of my best friends. That day, in the hot August sun, I flirted with a strange boy for the first time ever. He was wearing a kilt, had a great smile, I didn't know his name, and I wrote my phone number on a dollar bill he pulled out of his...satchel. Pouch. Whatever you call the bags they wear on a kilt.** My friends shook their heads as we walked away. They sighed the couple times we crossed paths that day and he winked at me. (Seriously. A teenager in a kilt winked at me.) He didn't call, of course. He was never going to call, and I probably knew that. I don't know what I would have done if he DID call. But that very sketchy decision was fun and he was really cute. (A sentence I find myself saying pretty regularly, let's be honest.)

Interesting choices and douchebags aside, I think it's a great place. It's an outlet for people to be as weird as they want. (Weird being relative, I realize, but I'm talking mainstream society here.) I love the idea that there were so many people who loved making their own chainmail and carrying swords that they were like, "You know what? Let's go find some dusty wooded area to hang out in and eat some turkey legs. Ale, anybody?" It's fascinating. A secret little world where I was the weirdo, in jeans. There's a whole other set of social norms, and it's awesome. For heaven's sake, a guy in a cape tipped his hat at me and called me "m'lady." (I ignored him because even though it's kind of a boost to be blatantly checked out, I've been there and done that--no phone numbers on dollar bills this year, my friends.) 

However...no judging or anything, ladies and gentlemen, but...just because you can wear a chainmail bikini top or a corset that squishes your boobs up to your neck...doesn't mean you necessarily should. Fun fact. 


**EDIT: A friend informs me that the kilt bag is called a sporran. She credits her Scottish heritage for that innate knowledge. 

Interruption.

Hey you. If you've seen a TV, read a newspaper, or looked at the internet recently, you know there is an election coming up. It's kind of a big deal. And it's in less than two months. 

I'm not here to tell you about my vote or why I'll be casting it a certain way. I'm here to tell you that you should be voting. I don't care who you vote for--but go vote. Decisions are made by the people who show up...so be a responsible adult for once and go help make the decision. It will certainly be better than posting another status update about your boyfriend or ignoring the text messages from that girl you met. 

Not sure where to get started? Make sure you're registered--try here--and if you're not, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? 

Adventures in Online Dating

You've heard me mention my twin, right? In case you're new to the party and are sitting there like, "Whoa, Bitter has a twin?? There are two of her? This gives me mixed emotions."...let me fill you in. First of all, you're probably smart to be concerned that there are two of me, but have no fear because Twin is a good foil for me in a lot of ways. Believe it or not, a lot of my bad ideas are the ones that made it past her filter. There are a lot of ideas that she stops at the gate. (You don't even want to know.) She's also the single most awesome person I know. 

You're caught up. 

Twin took herself out of the dating game for a long time, which we are all happy to blame on the Disgusting Troll Ex-Boyfriend of a few years ago. She decided to be brave recently, and also to get all of us off her back about it, and started online dating. She has quickly learned that many of the guys there are duds. Boring messages, overly philosophical messages, creepy messages. But one guy seemed cool! Nice! Friendly! Interesting! They chatted, they texted, they set up a date! We were proud of her! Good for you, getting back in the game! 

But I'm her twin. HER TWIN. I'm not about to let her end up on the evening news. "Local Artist Found in Area Man's Basement." Nope. Not happening. He may sound nice, but he's still a guy you met on the internet. Let's not go crazy. A friend and I went undercover and had dinner near the coffee shop where they met. We also tried to locate them from the roof of the parking garage. Everything checked out.

When Twin called me an hour into their date and was escaping, I was a little confused. An hour? That seemed a bit short. We met for ice cream and a debrief. As Twin and This Guy walked around, they passed a bondage store and he asked if she was into that. She said no, thinking that was a rather personal question for date one. "Ok," he said. "I am." 

Well alright then. This Guy is into bondage. That's a lot of information to get about someone you just met. Half an hour ago. Then he somehow works into the conversation that he used to date a stripper. (Attention guys: We don't really want to hear about your exes on the first date. ESPECIALLY THE STRIPPERS YOU DATED.) As if that wasn't enough information about his past, This Guy mentions that she also made porn. Oh, and HE WAS IN A PORN WITH HER ONCE. (It was at this point in her story that I choked on my ice cream. Did not see that coming.) The guy making these asked him because he's "big." 

Just to recap, in case your head is spinning from Overshare Syndrome, Twin met this guy for coffee, then before the cups were empty learned that he was into bondage, dated a stripper, and made a porn with her because he has a huge penis. 

WELL OK THEN. Twin was, let's say, a little surprised that he'd shared so much. When he invited her back to his place after an hour, she decided to make an exit. Guys, you have to leave ladies wanting more. Keep a little mystery in the relationship. Talking about sex on the first date is risky. This time, it didn't pay off for Porn Star. It's not quite like telling your date you're into chicken fajitas. 

My sister dated a porn star. It's actually a really fun sentence to say.