Tag Archives: funny ladies

Emma Willmann: One Night stand of Sex Toys


She performed for us once and we begged her come back! And oh she came…


On-Line Dating is Funny…Until Somebody Cries


I am back to the world of online dating. I swear that 90% of me wants to do it just because of the hilarious stories. I mean, where else will you have a grown man call you a “Little Turkey”?

I would like to take this time to share some of the more hilarious stories from my online dating experience the past month.

Window Shopping
This is a completely real, unedited email I received from a man in Brunswick, Maine. My first week he winked at me and I ignored it because I wasn’t interested. Then, three weeks later I receive this:

Hey You are such a little window shopper. I saw you checking me out. You are cute. I am going to adopt you…

Do you think by “adopt” he meant “kill you and wear you as a coat”? I clicked on his profile once again to see if perhaps I was mistaken and he was someone hilarious. Nope. His profile wasn’t remotely funny. So, if he was trying to go for funny he missed his mark. Drastically.

And even his reference was off. I get what he was trying to bring up – the little puppy in the window. But, if I was window-shopping wouldn’t he be the puppy who needed adopting? And what if I was ACTUALLY an orphan and he just brought up a really sad memory in my life.

So I decided, against better judgement (which is how I approach most of my dating), to reply. I informed him that I didn’t think we were likely a good match and that since women are on a higher alert in the online dating world, that probably isn’t the best pickup line. I said that I realized he was trying to be funny but he should maybe modify it a bit for the next girl he emails. He was not happy. I suppose I expected that, but I also felt bad thinking he was perhaps using that line with more than just me.

I have a few deal-breakers when it comes to online dating. First off, I will not date someone who is shirtless in their main photo. I get it, Muscles McGee, you are in shape. Hide that shirtless photo in a slew of shirted photos on your page. Do not have that be your headline. I could lead with my breasts but don’t. So don’t lead with your pecks.

Another deal-breaker is that I won’t date someone who has their “looking for” age range beginning at 18. If you could realistically date a senior in high school, I am just out of your ballpark.

The perfect storm emailed me – a shirtless man who despite being 32 would date someone 18. Also, hilarious as it is, his age range was 18-50. Really, guy? You could date anyone in that 32 year age range? What if someone is 51? Is that a deal-breaker?

So he emails me and informs me I am beautiful and seem like I am someone he would like to spend some time getting to know. He also tells me that he is new to this online dating thing and can be shy at first (I bet he would feel less shy if he had a shirt on). But I’m not new to this online dating thing. And when I did it, a year ago, he was on this site. I am very certain of it. I would actually bet my life on it. So does “new” mean “a year of experience”?

Again, despite my better judgement, I replied. I shouldn’t have this time. I was not trying to be helpful, I was trying to point out that I caught him in a lie. And for a man who says in his profile that he is the world’s worst liar, I think he probably shouldn’t lead with a lie. But since I knew right away, I guess he was right that he sucks at it.

So I nicely declined his invitation to chat, thanked him for calling me beautiful, and mentioned that I thought I had seen him on match when I did it last year, so he must have a twin!

His reply?

No worries. I was going out on a limb on my end anyway. I usually only contact fit woman like myself, but decided to roll the dice with you in hopes that I could get you into a fitness class. Good luck with your search as well.


Umm wait. Did you just call me fat? I know I could benefit from losing a few, but let’s not act like I am moments away from being nominated for The Biggest Loser. And I think I know why you are still single and online dating a year later. Put a shirt on, try reducing your age range so that it looks a little less like you will date anything that is legal and pre-menopausal, and get off my profile.

In Conclusion
My experience has been a hilarious ride, as always. I am meeting some nice guys, a lot of weirdos, and re-kindling a friendship with a guy I haven’t seen in years. If nothing else, it makes for a good story.


Like this story from Meredith? Read more from her at her blog.


How to Actually Lose A Guy in 10 Days


I recently saw the movie How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days because I was feeling sorry for myself, and I am typically 5-10 years behind the trend. The movie was pretty good, but I was disappointed in the lack of commitment Kate Hudson’s character shows in actually losing this guy. Some of the things she does include: 1) Crashing his “poker night,” 2) Buying him a plant that symbolizes their relationship, 3) Moving her stuff into his apartment, 4) Taking him to a Celine Dion concert.

Okay, I get it. Get too emotional and a man will flee. Guys need space to be with their bros, or something. But they also love showing off hot new girlfriends to their friends! A Celine Dion concert? That’s hilarious. Major irony points! The tactics she uses in her attempt to “lose” this guy are all things I have done might do when dating a new guy.

Here are some WAY more effective and efficient ways to lose a guy in ten days. Just choose one of these and no man will ever try to keep you tied down!

  • Tell him you have AIDS.


  • On your first date ask him: a) What’s your astrological sign? c) Are you a feminist? d) If you could start a flash mob to raise awareness for any world crisis, what would it be and why?


  • Sleep with him on the first date. Cry afterwards about how you’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend.


  • Say you can’t use a condom because you don’t want anything to get in the way of fate.


  • When he asks what you want to drink, say “Peach Stoli & diet 7 up.”


  • Explain that your biggest passion in life is playing the Recorder. Invite him over for a private concert in which you perform “Hot Cross Buns” repeatedly for two hours.


  • Tell him that even though you’re “technically” related to Casey Anthony, you two haven’t spoken since you used her computer to Google chloroform.


  • Twenty minutes later, mention that you get anonymous letters from someone who threatens to duct tape your mouth, put you in a garbage bag and strangle you to death in the woods.


  • Cheat on him.


  • Text him all the following things in the same day:


  • “Contemplating suicide today, it was nice to meet you”


  • “I LOVE YOU! Jk haha. But do you love me? Just wondering hah.”


  • “I told my therapist about you xoxox”


  • “My mom wants to meet you… told her about your penis lol”


  • Pull a “Sev7en” (murder one of his loved ones and send him his/her head in a box).


  • Explain to him that you’re half Pagan/half Wiccan and that you can’t be with him unless he practices your favorite Pagan ritual with you everyday. Using an interpretive dance, explain to him in detail what this ritual entails.


Good luck trying out these ideas and staying single ladies!

Editor’s note: This is the piece that made us say, THIS GIRL IS PERFECT FOR BAD DATE GREAT STORY.

Alison Griffin Vingiano is a New York native who studies improv at UCB. She has also studied comedy writing at 3rd Ward, and performs stand up throughout NYC. She tweets @agvnotes and blogs at www.agvnotes.tumblr.com



Score: OK Cupid: 1; Writer: 0


Oh, OK Cupid, how you consistently let us down…

On Monday I had a great boyfriend.  Tuesday I was dumped.  Wednesday through Friday was spent lost in a world of microwave dinners, HGTV, and not nearly enough showers.  But it was on Saturday that I reached my lowest point; I signed up for OK Cupid.


Don’t get me wrong, I think online dating is great.  Plenty of happy couples meet on the interwebs.  But for me, thinking that I am going to meet my soul mate on a website called OK Cupid was a momentary lapse of judgement.  The website is named for the ultimate phrase of settling; “OK,” it might as well be named “Yeah Alright Cupid,” or “I Suppose Cupid.”  If the stupid name isn’t enough of a warning to stay away, the fact that this is a free dating site should have helped me put the kabash on profile creation.  If I am looking for someone to invest the rest of their life into me, the least I should expect is for them to invest $30 a month for the chance to meet me.


Clearly, none of this was enough to prevent me from signing up.  I created a profile, stressed for hours over the selection of a profile picture, and made myself public to the world.


The first few days brought a lot of offers for naked lunchtime meet ups.  I tend to use my meal times for consuming meals rather than having intercourse with strangers, though I didn’t mind the attention.  A few profile adjustments later, I received a message from Matt.


Matt seemed relatively normal; IT guy, college degree, and capable of carrying on a conversation without overtly asking me for sex.  We talked for a month or so before deciding to meet in person.  He suggested that we go to a sports bar near his job for after work drinks.  Perfect, I was on board.  Then it started…


Midway through the workday he texted and asked if I would pick him up at his house.  While not thrilled with the idea, I figured I had a pretty good idea what this guy was about and agreed to drive.


I arrive at his apartment building and knock on the door.  As the door opens my jaw drops.  He has lengthy, manicured, fire engine red fingernails.  I stand there.  Before I have a moment to artfully maneuver my words into a less harsh, “What the fuck?” I then notice that he also has the soda can equivalent of Lincoln Logs lining all of his walls.  He is a hoarder and he has lady nails.  That was not in his profile.


He quickly closes the door and we start heading toward my car.  I am incapable of stopping this, my words fail me, I don’t know what’s happening.  In a daze I drive the hoarder with lady nails and myself to the bar.   The hoarder with lady nails orders our drinks and chats about everything besides his manicure.  He pauses, looking for a response to something he has said.  Yet to say a single word, I stand up, collect my things, and walk directly out the door.  This was not “OK”, Cupid.

Bio: Mandy Williams is an ex librarian turned business lady. She mostly spends her time reading, drinking craft beer, and eating string cheese. Prime objective: Bring moxie to all situations. @sugarymandykins

Have an OK Cupid story with a happy ending? We want to hear it! Email us at baddategreatstory@gmail.com


An event 15 years in the making

Charlie was a boy I had gone to grade school with, and I was madly in love with him all the way from 4th grade, when he transferred in, through 8th graduation, when he was dating my best friend. He was a very clean cut Puerto Rican boy, who was smart, popular, star of the basketball team. Basically completely unattainable for fat weird 5th grade me, but 4 years in middle school is basically forever, so he was pretty much the most important love of my life ever.

A Waste of Gas

new house

I should know better by now, but I fail to learn and become desperate for companionship so that I forget guys are douches in L.A.


Some People Would Call This Method Acting


Since I clearly have masochistic issues, I reach out to this guy who dumped me years ago. Back when we dated, I was really into him despite the fact he was really sarcastic. For the sake of anonymity let’s call him Sarcasmo.   In reconnecting with Sarcasmo, it becomes evident, I still have feelings for him. At the time, I need a computer person to help with some comedy videos–so I ask if he can do editing work for me. He agrees. Despite any tingly feelings down there, the moment money exchanged hands, I vow never to get with him . I have a strict policy of no sexing the staff.  That would  make me feel like I’m subversively  paying for sex- it’s too much like prostitution. I don’t want to be a prostitute or pay for one. And so, all fantasies of hooking up with Sarcasmo are over. He starts editing for me, and thus grows our sexually charged,  awkwardly platonic  work relationship.

Years later Sarcasmo and I remain friends, go to the theater, shoot videos and our relationship is as awkward and uncomfortable as ever. I just end a  relationship with a hot,  emotionless  Israeli. Let’s call him IDF man. Sarcasmo and I decide to make a sketch about the breakup with IDF man.  The scene starts with IDF man in bed, post-coitus and his girlfriend asks him to define their relationship.

In order to get into the heads of the characters, Sarcasmo plays the role of IDF man and I play the girlfriend. In order to really set up the scene, we go to my apt and get into bed together. As a dedicated method actress, I put myself in Sarcasmo’s arms and assume the spoon position, (which happens to be my favorite). We begin to improv, but it all becomes confusing. Are we speaking in character or as our true selves? In a moment of truth, I  share  my feelings to Sarcasmo. I tell him that “I feel like I have to pay for you to hang out with me” and how I don’t want him to be my prostitute or vice-versa.  He tries to reassure me, but he’s so sarcastic I can’t tell if he is being sincere or not.  Again, just like when he dumped me years ago, I’m hurt.

This becomes our psychologically abusive writing system: I say, “I want to take this to the next level” and he says “so let’s have sex without a condom”.  My writer self knows the  line has comedic potential and writes it down,  but the part of me that likes him is insulted.   I retort, “I only have sex without a condom for boyfriends” and I angrily  pull away and write the line down. Sarcasmo/IDF feels bad and for a moment shows a glimmer of sincerity. That’s all I need to see,  and I put my legs between his thighs.  Now am I in character or not? The cycle continues until many lines are written, shirts are off and hands slide under bra.  By the time we finish the sketch, pants are removed, boobs have fully surfaced and there are no longer any characters to hide behind- it’s just Michelle and Kelvin…er, I mean Sarcasmo.

Kelvin is clearly trying to have sex with me, but my feelings of hurt and rejection from years past still sting. Ironically over the course of writing/hooking up, I let him caress me wherever he pleases (boobs), but I don’t let him kiss me. Like a true prostitute, kissing would make the sexual encounter too  intimate. Had he said something sweet  like “you are hot” or “I like you” all would be fine.  But he says no such thing.   Kelvin senses that I am feeling insecure, pulls me into him,  holds me tightly, and whispers in my ear  “Hey…you…you’re no prostitute”. Sarcastic or not, that was all I needed to hear and we started kissing.

We plan to meet in a month to revisit the script and if we both deem it funny we will shoot it. The role of the IDF Man has been recast and will be performed by another actor.

Talk about a fucked up method of writing and of dating!


Bio: Comedienne, Producer, Social Architect. Check out michelleslonim.net for info on upcoming social events and performances. Save the date Monday 7/23 for an Open Bar / Open House party Michelle is throwing with Jspace. Tickets are $30 are subject to availability .http://www.jspace.com/openbaropenhousebuy


Why Sleep-Overs Shouldn’t Include Sleeping


Confessions of a Recovering Manic Pixie Dream Girl 1.7: The Awkward Midwestern Undergraduate Years, The Gallery of Regrettable Hookups, CJ

So, I had more or less exhausted all options within my coterie of student film friends (including one of the girls, but that was hardly a regrettable hookup so much as a cake fight that got a little out of hand). Of course, I jumped at the chance to hang out with more people outside of this circle, my friend Ben from Greek class in particular. Admittedly, I had a little bit of a thing for him which fortunately for our friendship never went anywhere. Still, it was refreshing to have a bit more of a chaste crush on someone as opposed to the regrettable-sex-bender-of-angst caused by the volatile break with Chris.

You didn’t come here to read about Ben, though, did you? At some point, Ben, his friends and I went to X3: The Last Stand… and agreed to never speak of it again. I chatted with his friend CJ and one thing led to another and so we ended up seeing Superman Returns as well. My main thought other than “Bryan Singer left X3 for this?” was “Holy balls, Brandon Routh is pretty.” CJ, with his bald patch and manboobs almost rivaling my own, was no Brandon Routh, but things more or less went their course later in the night anyway. The only notable thing is that as we were falling asleep, for some inexplicable reason, I could not. stop. farting. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe I had too much dairy earlier that day. I knew there was a reason I immediately kicked them out of bed afterward. Chalk another one down as an MPDG fairy tale ending in “… and then we never spoke of it again.”


Editor’s note: We feel your pain! Cosmetic bag should include mini Lysol (http://baddategreatstory.com/?p=2466) Lactaid and Gas-X. Note very much taken.