You had plenty of time to make a responsible choice as you stood in line at your local Lowes, but you were too busy thinking about what kind of bite-size chocolate snack to shovel into your puffy white face. So when it came time to pony up for a ticket, instead of supporting the type of film that this manly throbbing cock of a country was built on, like Live Free or Die Hard, you paid to see some $50-million "indie" piece of shit with a hand-drawn animated title sequence and a plucky, off-the-wall female love interest, like Juno or Garden State or 500 Days of Summer.
Two things about that choice for which you should be deeply ashamed:
1) Those movies are fucking terrible.
2) It's encouraged those in charge of producing new media to think that we all want to date some quirky hipster gash like this:
Match.com's "It's okay to look" series of ads pits my patience against a neverending parade of pampered 20-something assholes who have nothing to contribute to a relationship, but they're, like, SUPER fun. And the assholes are winning.
I'm sorry, NYCGingerGirl, but I do not find your hopeless lack of direction at all endearing. I get the feeling that if I were to date you, my free time would be swallowed washing your half-empty cereal bowls and picking up your limitless collection of thrift-store scarves. Shut up and get a goddamn job.
And what the fuck is this about?
Really? You haven't decided whether or not you want to be an Indian chief yet? Are you out of your fucking mind? Are you actually quirky or are you using all those hats to cover up the railroad spike in your skull? No one should have to waste their time telling you this, but you can't decide to be an Indian chief, no matter how much time you take to "find yourself." It's one of those you-are-or-you-aren't kind of things. Like, you ARE the most annoying cunt I've ever seen, and I AREN'T going to date you.
And then this happens...
Before you even click on it, let me spare you the pain. I don't want you to go through the same pants-wetting rage that I did. Here's the entire transcript:
Your definition of "great sense of humor" and mine are as different as apples and a painting of apples hot-glued to the side of a sperm whale. For instance, Patton Oswalt has a great sense of humor. The comedy of Patton Oswalt does not make me want to stab his pee-hole with woodworking tools. "Just a goof looking for my ball"? If by "ball," you mean "feline AIDS," then I wish you all the luck possible.
A comment on the Youtube page hosting this video says it about as well I can: "Ey3'm jUss7 aH GhOOf Lukin fer mah bawl! HERR DERP DERP DERP." Herr derp derp derp indeed.
Don't worry, ladies. I haven't forgotten you. There's plenty for you to choose from, too:
This guy didn't even bother to sell us a line of bullshit that he might be marginally dateable. He just went gay for his dog for 15 seconds. Here's two free tips, Mr.Chicago9: "Mr. Chicago" is only a good name for a '70s pimp, which you are not, and if you can't go 15 fucking seconds without feeling the feverish warmth of your matted rat-dog against your nipples, please excuse yourself from the dating pool. Kthnx.
Incidentally, did you notice the sexy, wind-blown look they gave the dog by pointing a fan at it? Was I supposed to find that sexy? What demographic were they trying to target with a sexy dog?
Quirky hipsters do not make good dating partners, match.com. They smell like candle stores and always want to eat ethnic food and their music keeps trying to work accordions into it for some goddamn reason. All this seems intriguing after one, maybe two dates, but there's only so many vintage book shoppes (!) you can go to in one weekend before you long for someone marginally attractive that you can fuck once a week, watch House with, and nothing else.
Chances I will go to match.com thanks to these ads: More like SNATCH.com, right you guys? Up high.