Tagged: wtf

Maybe We Should Just Ride the Log One

A few weeks ago my dream came true. And yes, I did go to Kings Dominion. And yes, that was my dream. Throughout my 10 year amusement park hiatus I felt as though I was really missing out. I mean fun, adventure, shitty expensive food, people in wet t-shirts that you don’t want to see in wet t-shirts, giant stuffed things, games, adventure and fun again were all only 2 hours away – why the fuck wasn’t I in it? I now  know why – it’s really not that cool.

A few things came up when deciding where to go – actually only two. 1) I wasn’t going to Six Flags even though it was ten times closer because quite frankly, I think it’s a fucking liability, and I definitely don’t like that old dancing man in their ads. 2) I only do luxury boats. Kings Dominion is the luxury boat of amusement parks. (what?)

A few things to keep in mind for anyone planning a visit:

(1) Find the Correct Entrance. I somehow managed to enter the park from the back. This was no easy task because EVERYTHING is clearly marked and directional signage is phenomenal.  By doing so, I found the park employee entrance and pulled up to a guy standing in the middle of a random asphalt entrance and whipped out my pre-printed parking pass and ID.

“Hello, here is my parking pass and my ID.” (I have no idea why I showed him my ID – maybe because the cars in front of us were showing their actual employee badges…..I dunno.)

“Hello. Are you a employee here?”

“Well, no but I have this parking pass. See here is the date and the confirmation number.”

I pointed to today’s date and also to the long number at the bottom. The man looked at me like I had nipples for eyes.

“Okay….but this is the employee entrance….how did you even get here?”

I smiled, popped a u-ey and high tailed out of there. I didn’t feel like explaining what an idiot I was and there was really no explanation.

Whooopsies. Hahahaha ha. ha.

(2) Timing Is important. For us,  it was opening weekend and we wanted to get there butt early so we did BUTT it was too early and we arrived even before the parking lot was open. We thought the cashier lady was just taking a really long time to collect money from the cars but we were in a line of people who just parked in front of the park to get the best parking (park, parking, park, park). I had already paid for and printed out my parking ticket so I didn’t even need any of dat shiatt. Being that early is just stupid so we left to get  Chik-fil-A. When we got back the parking attendants were letting people in. Yes! this would be the appropriate  time to source my parking pass. I handed it to the gentlemen and he said thank you and raised the electronic bar partition.

“Don’t I need a ticket from you or anything to put on my windshield?”

To which he responded, “??????”   “No. You just go in now…”


We zoomed up to the front, parked, and then stood in line again by foot because this time the parking lot was open but the actual park wasn’t. 15 minutes later we were granted access and thought to take a photo at the entrance which is seen below. I have no idea who the child is.

Us an random adorable child who insisted on being in photo
Us and random adorable child who insisted on being in our photo

(3) Ride choice and Sequence. Upon finally entering, the game plan was to head straight to the back of the park to work in the opposite direction of everyone else (fucking genius). Also, the back of the park is where all the really heady rides are too (heady is my new cool word that I now overuse). In a record 35 minutes, we had gone on the Volcano, the Blast Coaster, Anaconda, Flight of Fear, Scrambler, and the Hurler. The only time we had to wait was on the Volcano when an adult male had puked while on the ride which meant twelve hours of decontamination. He continued puking over the railing when he got off as his suffocating girlfriend rubbed his back. The comments and jabs that came from the other riders was unbelievable to the point where some middle schoolers were yelling, “He hasn’t even gone yet!” “Pussy” “Fucking Light Weight” “Idiot!” I’m not sure why he’s an idiot but you get the point – it was brutal. We jumped on one more so we would beat the lines heading our way and we chose the Intimidator 305. This reckless metal destroyer goes 305 feet and 90 mph making it one of the tallest and fastest coasters in the world. All I know is we blacked out afterwards with severe migraines and complete loss of equilibrium. Feeling extremely ill, we took a nap in a flower bed in Candy Apple Grove which was delightful.

(4) Ride the Water Log. The whole time. I must say the most pleasant experience of the trip was the water log ride. It involves everything that is good.

Your transportation is a hollowed out log.

Yes, fantastic choice. Check.

You get whisked away to an old mining town.

Love a vintage theme. Check. 

Water gently splashes when your log turns a corner.

Water spritzes? Refreshing and delightful. Check. 

There are absolutely zero surprises.

Predictable log.  I love you. Check. 

On log ride. Having the best time ever.
On log ride. Having the best time ever.

After the log ride we thought to head over to the Water Park to continue with our tranquil water state. We walked around a bit and saw some lawn chairs by the side of the Lazy River. There was nothing lazy about that river. It looked hectic as hell. We sat down next to an intercom that was yelling the rules of the Lazy River into our faces every 3 minutes. Regardless, we both passed out. I had dreams of being on the log river and mining gold. Two hours later we awoke from slumber – we decided that we should head home and could probably just sleep there. So basically, we went to Kings Dominion and slept.

What sleeping felt like...
What sleeping felt like…


What we were actually doing...
What we were actually doing…

This Week in the Worst of Online Dating…

Actual messages from randoms but not actual responses – I’m not an asshole.

“How about if I’m on the shorter side and really dig tall girls? I’m smart, weird, hilarious, and I also can not remember the last time I was angry. We’d get along. Let’s be mischievous and make the most of today, what do you say?”


“Serious question: You are taking me out for sushi (for one reason or another) I am starving. You just got back from the gym and you need to get ready. How long would it take?”

A) 30 min, you look hot and I cant keep my hands off you 
B) 15 min and you look pretty cute 
C) 2 hours and I die from starvation

What the hell. Why is this happening? 

And my answer is:

D)  You can take your twisted ass math problems and get fuck’d. 

“Is it just the full moon, or do you turn into a stone cold fox every night of the week? Lol no but really, how’s it going?”

Dammit. That’s a good one.


This is a picture of a stone cold fox when you Google “Stone Cold Fox” I guess it’s just a cold fox.

“u hot”

You didn’t even have time to write “ur?”

“Wake up in the AM, compose a tweet.”

I’m sorry, I don’t understand…are you selling something or speaking? 

“They say your choice in food tells a lot about you: given a choice between strawberries or oreos, which do you pick? Why?”

I think you’re just trying to figure out if I’m fat. Are they double stuffed oreos? Or, they just came out with Oreo stuffed Oreos. Why? Because have you ever eaten a cookie stuffed cookie?

“spying me? Lol ;)”

Haha no, I’m not spying you lol…. Wait, what the hell?

” 😉 “

What are we winking at?

G’day mate! 😉 If you are really 6’0″ tall…we owe it to the world and the NBA to get to know each other! :))

Actually, I lied about my height (why the hell would I do that?) and I don’t owe the NBA shit, let alone a giant athlete baby. 

I normally don’t contact anyone on here unless I think we have common grounds and is an interesting person. I think you fit the kind of woman that I like spending my time with and would like to get to know. So if you never dated a Haitian guy who speak Creole and French, CONFIDENT,takes trip to Europe every year, has a great career, run his own business, driven, love life to the fullest, spontaneous, and a true Capricorn, then let’s give this a try. Let’s not wait too long because im just giving this site a try and may no longer be here. 

A few things:

– Well, yes that is the point of contacting people on this – why would you contact someone you have nothing in common with and is boring as shit?

– Creole is basically French so let’s not flatter ourselves and lead people to believe we are bilingual. 

– What the ass does a “true Capricorn” mean? That you’re a goat?

You seem really CONFIDENT. I think you’ll be fine with me not responding. 

Hey, I saw your profile and thought I should say hi! 

Just to be up-front, I’m a married guy looking for a bit of a fling, hopefully with someone friendly and fun to be around. My apologies if you’re not at all interested in this. Happy to chat either way. 

“A bit of a fling” You mean like an affair? You cant call it a “fling” when you’re married. And next time you think you “should say hi!”, say hi to your wife. ooooohhhhh #youjustgotserved

I Think That Was One of Those Mind Fucks


ADD testing: Real? Or Mind Fuck? I would have to argue strongly on the side of mind fuck. As a member of the Attention Deficit Disorder community, I am appalled at the kind of weird-ass, convoluted, deranged, mind penetrating testing we are forced to endure. I left the neurology center feeling more confused and distracted than ever. Mainly because I will never actually know what the hell went on in that room – if I “passed” or if I’m mentally incontinent.

I’m going to back up for a moment and start from the beginning…….

In 2011, my general practitioner prescribed me adderall when I came to her with concerns of not being able to fucking do anything. I was leaving the states to get my master’s and I thought for sure I would fail if I was not only going to be taking courses in Australia but I also get easily distracted by anything that is shimmery or creates some kind of noise. She sympathized with my condition and while looking at my aggressively tapping toe, prescribed me 30 mg of adderall a day for the next year. So, I filled a prescription of 600 pills and a years worth of birth control and flew over to Australia where I set up an international drug trade. Kidding, I actually needed both things quite imperatively and took them as instructed but that would have been dope. In class on adderall I felt as though I was some kind of baby genius hybrid like a philosopher/scientist or a spaceship/sea manatee (I know…crazy right?) I could now actually accomplish things and not twiddle off into girl thoughts of puppies and hot pink. I was banging out projects, ordering people around, writing 10,000 word essays and realizing my full potential. Adderall saved me from selling gimp bracelets under a boardwalk somewhere to make money for crack. Actually, I probably wouldn’t be that bad off but you get my drift.

After graduating, I went to that same doctor to refill my prescriptions as I did every three months when I was back stateside. Everything panned out well as I was able to work in an office and pay attention to people’s faces when they spoke. Suddenly, my doctor stopped practicing and I was forced to see an alternate doctor in the practice to refill my prescriptions. This doctor was a conservative pompus prick (he was actually really nice…I just couldn’t pronounce his name which pisses me off). Anyways, Doctor GoFuckChoSelf told me that I wasn’t properly tested for ADD and because adderall was a controlled substance I would have to undergo actual testing to verify that I did indeed have ADD. Throughout that conversation, all I was thinking was what flavor Jolly Rancher I would grab from the candy dish out by the receptionist…”jolly”…”rancher”…has such a delightful ring to it. Geezus. I have ADD. I cant even pay attention to a conversation about me not paying attention. I thought this was all very redundant but I agreed that I would go get “properly tested” and so made an appointment with another doctor who’s name I couldn’t fucking pronounce.

Appointment Day. I walked into the building and passed the office I was supposed to go in 3 or 4 times until I finally figured out that it was not the janitor’s closet and entered. I rushed across the large waiting room to the counter and immediately started to apologize for being 15 minutes late. The lady said, “Who are you?” I said my name and my favorite color. She said, “Okay….. fill out this 14 page form and answer the questions on the back page. You must answer ALL of the questions on the BACK PAGE!!” Geezus, okay….97 hours later…I walked back up with the form and emphasized the back portion with a Vanna-White-like hand wave circulating around the written text, “See? All filled out…all four of them.” She said thanks and asked me to please sit down and to stop crowding the window.

Twenty-five minutes later my name was called and I followed the nurse back to the doctor’s office – or who I thought was the nurse – according to her visual measurements she might have been a bridge troll. Regardless, she was very nice and sat me down in an office filled with framed accreditation’s, degrees, and two trolls on a shelf – how very fitting I thought. There wasn’t any reading material so I read a poster on the wall 14 times and then tried to nap.

Very suddenly, the doctor walked in and jetted straight for his chair on the other side of the room. He sat down facing my direction, legs casually sprawled about and stared directly at me. Saying nothing. I looked around…is this the test? Am I currently inside of the test? Should I start speaking? Or would I then be testing you? What the fuck is happening? Finally, he acknowledged me and asked me why I was there. I told him the whole long story about already being on adderall and yada yada but I was here now because Dr. UnpronouncableLongAssName instructed me to be. He nodded and then asked me to sit on the examination table with that stupid parchment paper that always sticks to the back of your legs.

In one whisk of his arm he started blinking his hands like a traffic light and then asked me to concentrate on his nose – this happened 3 or 4 times. After whatever the hell that was, he tapped my ankles and knees with a vibrating metal rod and then asked me to walk heel-to-toe across the room. As he was writing notes, he forgot to tell me to stop so I heel-toed the fuck out of the whole room until finally he laughed and told me I could have stopped along time ago. I’m glad this is all very amusing.

I sat back down and had more blinking hands shoved in my face and a lot more of pointing at different objects in the room and again at his nose. After one more gratuitous poke/flick on the shoulder he abruptly left room WITHOUT SAYING A WORD. I felt like I had just been raped with my clothes on. I sat there waiting for what was to come next and not knowing if I should leave a pee sample or just continue to stand. WHAT THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING? Just as I was really about to lose it, he walked back into the room with a clipboard and mentioned that he would have to ask me some more questions (a simple note of that earlier would have been helpful for my overall sanity.) And so begins the ridiculous questioning:

Do you find yourself talking a lot?

Hard, YES.

Do you interrupt people when they.. (yes.) ….are talking?

The answer is yes.

Do you find yourself easily distracted?

What? Yes.

When in situations that you prefer not to be in do you run or climb trees?

Okay, well, how do I answer this…I do not currently climb trees, no. Is that something I should be doing?

Now, my questions for the doctor:

Were these questions drafted in the mid 70’s?

Is this a children’s exam?

What is this? A brain center for ants?

Example of how ridiculous the questions were:


WTF? After all of the questions that essentially just repeated themselves – he had come to the conclusion that I had ADD/ADHD and that I was properly prescribed adderall.

Well, thank you. So you’re telling me that I spent three hours in this office only for you to come to the same conclusion that another doctor did two years ago? Hmmmmm….. if I had known that I could make millions (exaggeration) by asking people Disney pop-quiz questions from a clipboard, ding-ing people on the elbow, and diagnosing them with things they already knew they had, I would have gone into neurology.

Well, okay…. that happened. I’m leaving. Never to return. I left the room in a huff feeling pissed off. In anger, I  circled the hallways huffing and stomping around until I found the exit to the reception area. “SEE YOU NEVER!” I told the troll, “Except I need to make a completely superfluous  check up appointment for three months from now.

Standard Practices of Constantly Living in a State of Embarrasment

A few things happened this week that I believe do not happen to others but strictly and violently only to me:

1. I was walking out of the metro and didn’t realize that one of the street vents blows a 50 mph wind out of it thus creating a tornado effect. While wearing an easy breezy chiffon dress feeling confident, I marched directly across said vent  in front of what seemed like every single person who lives in a quarter mile radius sitting at Columbia Heights metro (20-30 people with nothing to do but stare). My dress instantly flew up – so violently that it got stuck to my face so I couldn’t pull it down for a solid 10 seconds and ended up just pulling at my hair and marching in place. For some idiotic reason, I didn’t think to move myself off the effing’ vent. I was alone and standing with a group of strangers  staring at my bare pale ass.  I had no one to laugh it off with so I did that weird giggle to yourself while randomly deciding to go for a jog to exit the scene quicker. Just as I was making my jog exit the walk sign turned red so I had to stand on the corner for an extra 3 minutes, shameful and buttless.

2. In retrieving ice from the ice maker, I opened the freezer door in such a way that it slammed into my right eye, bruising it quite badly.  Lamest. black eye story. ever.

3. I managed to elbow my dental hygienist in the face, hard. Enough so that her plastic wood carving goggles flew off and sprung under the curtain into where the patient next door was sitting. She still said I’m a phenomenal flosser but also an asshole with much too pointy elbows. And too tall.

4. I was close-lined by a parking- gate-beam. I’m not sure how this actually happens to a person……


5. Hit in the face by one of those banner people that swirl around the cardboard cutouts while jamming to music. The pointy edge none the less.


6. Bought a vibrator and broke it immediately – having to return it the next day. It was faulty, but still……really>?

7. Lastly, I was waiting for a meeting with a vendor and when he arrived from the elevator doors I followed him into the men’s restroom thinking it was his office.

I can’t explain it. I just hate Virginia.

Until I realized that I could explain it – it sucks. And after I posted my hatred on facebook  – it seemed as though I was not alone. I’m not only not alone but surrounded by my fellow countrymen rejoicing in the fact that all people – young and old, tall and short, smart and intelligent, beautiful and courageous – hate Virginia too.

I grew up in Maryland and now live in DC. Neither place is anything to gloat about but at least it’s not fucking Virginia. There is no bigger eye sore than staring across the beautiful flowing rapids of the brown Potomac River than having your eye gaze upon *puke* Virginia. That mushy, mosquito infected landfill that they call a river –  is the only thing that keeps us from the trolls and all the world’s despair. And thank the lord for it. I know. Harsh. To be honest, I really don’t hate anything – I’m a super happy, optimistic person who always tries to find the good in things – except for Virginia. I have no idea where this festering distaste for such a caca poo-poo platter of a state comes from – probably from the same place of hate where Duke and the Dallas Cowboys live. In fact, if  Mike Krzyzewski and Tony Romo moved to Virginia – we could all call it hell.

People try to sell me on it – “Oh hey, its not that bad – we have Dogfish Head bars and chain restaurants.” Or is that Germantown? Who the fuck knows – they are both equally as shitty.

“But its so much cheaper.” Well, yes. But there are reasons why shittier things are cheaper – they are shitty – chello?

Also, what is the deal with every fucking guy on every dating site living in Virginia? Is it because they are all single because no one will date people who live there? The minute I see Reston, Arlington, Alexandria, or god forbid – Manassas (Although, thank you Manassas – you have the word “ass” in your city name which is very fitting). I click next, pass, hell no, get me the fuck out of here. It will never work. I will never travel to Virginia – it would end up being a long distance relationship even though the actual commute is 10 minutes. Which is just silly.

And another thing. Why are the roads always fucked? Why does every one of them lead to a Cracker Barrel or something equally as dumb and unwanted? Where are the black people? I miss them. Why do all the drivers suck? Why are there so many tolls? To pay for more shitty things? Go shoot a gun or make a squirrel hat.

The only time I ever went to Virginia was  in 2012 and to go on an date with this guy I met on a online dating site – regrettably (I know I said I never would but I did, this once). I figured considering 95% of men on dating sites live in Virginia I should maybe just give it a shot. Big Mistake. I got lost……on the metro….. I will take partial responsibility because I’m a walking, talking directional idiot but still…I blame most of it on Virginia and the universe just probably not wanting me to go there. I ended up in Franconia-Springfield. Which for anyone from around here knows that is far as fuck and at the end of the yellow/blue line. So, I was an hour late showing up to a bar I didn’t want to go to (I felt like an asshole – I’m never late and actually get anxiety attacks when I am. So I did feel bad for the guy. I felt worse for him that he lived in Virginia though.) Anyways, I finally make it to a bar called something generic like “Arlington Ale House” or “Clarendon Suck my Cock” and he’s there sitting, all five foot three of him. Now I feel like a bigger asshole. I’m six feet tall and I look like a pedophile. There’s an 80’s cover band playing (naturally). We talk about things. He’s fine. Like a person who has a head and talks out of it. Which is fine. Its just boring.  I’m about to shove him in the back of my white van when I feel like I should just leave rather than get thrown in jail for stealing something I didn’t even want. I say goodnight and walk to the metro. Which is fucking closed. So I  paid $40.00 to cab out of a place I despise. So long Virginia – I will never step foot in you again. Except when I travel internationally, maybe go to the Costco or Total Wine, or just now because I have to pick up something real quick. doh.

Welp. That’s all I have to say about that. Feels good.