Our lives are filled with random weirdness. In fact, the weirdness is usually what gets me through the day. Now Shmitten Kitten offers you little bits of random weirdness to help you through yours. Here's a weird conversation that I just had with my sister. Enjoy!
Dan (reading a box of crackers): "What's riboflavin?" Me: "Vitamin B2, I think." Dan: "Is that good for you?" Me: "Yeah." Dan: "Mmmm, ribo-flavor'." Me: "If Flavor Flav had a son and he was super health conscious, he would be Ribo-Flavor Flav." Dan: "Ha! And he would play a flute that was really a hollowed out carrot." Me: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Yes, yes he would."
Blind dates, by nature, are anxiety-ridden and stressful. Both parties involved show up with their own set of expectations and often times, these expectations differ wildly. For instance, we expect them to be gentlemanly, clean, and polite. Pretty crazy, right? And, God knows what they expect from us. A pulse and a pretty face, perhaps?
Web sites like MySpace and Facebook can help a little bit because you can at least see what the person looks like before you commit to spend time with them. But, even knowing what they look like won't prepare you for their lisps, bad breath, and terrible manners. Oh no, you don't get to find that out until they are sitting across the table asking to split the bill.
This week, we are recounting our most terrible blind dates. If there was a hall of fame for horrible dates, these guys would be in it. If you have any bad blind date stories you'd like to share--even if they were with us!--send 'em on over to tips@shmittenkitten.com. Enjoy!
I have my dear ol' Mom to thank for this dating disaster. You know how they say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Well, file this story under that heading.
My Mom gave my phone number to a woman in her book club who's cousin was a single, Jewish guy who happened to live right in my neighborhood. Um, ok. What did she tell me about this potential Romeo? Two facts: he was very tall and he had long hair. I'm not sure if my Mom has ever met me--and I'm pretty sure that she has--but those two facts alone made my ovaries shrivel.
Well, sure enough, homeboy called me a few weeks later. He introduced himself and we made some pleasant small talk. Here's what I learned:
He was 37
He is indeed very tall--6'2 to be exact
He has a "punk rock poodle." WTF? (more on that later)
He frequents some of the same local watering holes that I frequent and claimed that we've actually met before
He insisted that we had met very recently and namechecked some mutual friends. Who was this guy? So, I casually mentioned that my buddy Rob was DJing at a bar that week and that he should stop by. After we hung up, I told Shannon about this dude and how nice our conversation was. Her eyes got all big and her mouth dropped to the floor.
"You know who that is, right? That's the guy who always stares at you whenever we go to the North Star. You hate him, Anna."
"No!" Denial is the first stage, right?
"Yes! Yes, it is!" she stammered. "That's that guy who has the long hair, he's really tall, he always wears those old man Hawaiian shirts and he has that awful poodle with dreadlocks. Remember? He showed up to Rob's birthday party the other week and you ran away. Oh God, you have a date with him?"
I was horrified. Yes, my Mom had inadvertently given my number to the creepy guy who always stared at me whenever I ran into him, which was on a regular basis. And, it's not a cute, playful, coy stare. It is a full-on Cape Fear, lazer-beam stalker stare. The kind that sears into your brain. He really makes me uncomfortable. But, that's not the worst part. He looks like a freakish love child between The Dude from The Big Lebowski and the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons who moonlights as a cashier at Trader Joe's. Seriously! This guy is not hot.
I immediately called my Mom and freaked out on her that she gave my number to this greasy bohunk and that before he was just a creepy guy I avoided but now he's a creepy guy I avoid who now knows my name and my phone number. She apologized profusely and deadpanned, "Well, I guess you'll just have to move, Honey." Haha. I love you, Mom!
Thursday came around and I went to Rob's night after work. I hoped and prayed that the Big Lebow-SLEAZE would totally forget about our hangout date. I gulped down a beer and checked my watch. Sure enough, he came in at exactly 9:01 wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a smile. He looked like he was in the third trimester of carrying a beer baby. I almost gagged when I heard him say my name.
He sat down and we made extremely awkward conversation. I was
so flustered and freaked out I could barely look him in the eye. It was terrible. It was torture. I think I almost cried at one point.
After about 15 minutes, I announced that I was going to go hang out with my friends now, which meant that I would swivel in my chair to the right and talk with my buddy Mikki, who was sitting beside me. He angrily finished his beer and ordered another one. He slammed that one too, hard. Then he pounded the empty glass on the bar, lept out of his chair and mumbled to me, "Well, that was fun." And, with that, he walked out.
I felt awful for being so disconnected, but what can I say? The guy made my skin crawl. Rob came over to console me and said, "Well, Anna, he is a 37 year-old guy that has long hair and wears Hawaiian shirts. He's kind of painting himself into a corner, dating-wise." So true, Rob. So true.
This is gonna seem like I'm nitpicking. Nothing about this date was THAT horrible. It's not like this guy ran over a gaggle of Catholic school girls on his way to pick me up or wet his pants in the bar or something. It's not like he had a glass eye that he snuck in the jar of pickled eggs to gross me out. (Actually, that would have been kinda awesome in a Fear Factor sort of way.) Nothing about this date was particularly horrifying, but still, this date really sucked for me and I'm gonna blog about it. If you don't like it, start your own dating blog.
I met a dude off of Craigslist. I know that's really lame. I'm embarrassed to admit that I actually trolled the Internet looking for a guy. You know you've hit desperate times when you reduce yourself to this. I shoulda known it was going to be terrible as his ad's title read something like "I'm part hipster, part yuppie." Cringe! What was I thinking? I really have to poke fun at myself for actually going on a date with someone that would describe themself like this. I was in a very desperate place, I suppose.
I don't want to get all into it, and I don't want to make excuses for myself, but a few months before this hell-date happened, someone I dated and really cared about was hit on their bicycle and killed. I'm still upset about it now, and at the time I was a total wreck. I guess the Craigslist schpiel was my attempt to pull myself out of the gutter and meet someone new because Lord knows I needed to.
Despite the terrible title he had given to his personal ad, there were other things about him that were cool. He seemed like he actually had his shit together. He owned a house and told me he was a "software engineer." We exchanged a few emails and he seemed cool enough. I figured, "What the hey!" and when he asked me to go to a movie, I accepted. But when date time arrived, instantly this guy started to annoy me.
1) He insisted I pick him up. This was weird for me, because this was my first blind date ever and I didn't know what to say when he got in my car. I realize now that it would have been way better if I just met him at the movie theater.
2) There was awkward small talk. On the way to the movie, I talked about how one of my worst fears is walking into a movie late. If I'm more than 15 minutes late to a movie, I won't go. That's just how I am. Finding a seat in a darkened theater gives me anxiety and I just won't do it! Of course, we were cutting it close to the movie and we grabbed a parking spot a few blocks away.
3) I realized this guy was not so cool. On the two block walk to the theater, I managed to find out that this "software engineer" really uploaded porn to the Internet for a living. Wow. Imagine explaining that one to Mom. Also, this guy went on and on about how he's a "metrosexual" and loves to shop. Going to the mall is one of my least favorite things to do, so already I was going, "Uh-Oh" in my mind. Then he told me how much he paid for everything he was wearing so I could be impressed at his savvy bargain hunting ablities. I realized then that this dude and his 35 dollar pleather boots had to go.
4) This guy was not chivalrous. We sat down for our movie, and just as the lights were dimming, I realized we hadn't put money in the parking meter. You would think this guy would run back to the meter for me and throw some quarters in. He knew about my theater anxiety! I considered leaving the theater to go take care of business, but I just couldn't do it. The thought of climbing over a row full of strangers to run back to my car and then come back to a dark theater got my heart racing. I have issues, I know.
5) This guy was not picking up what I was putting down. We saw the Darjeeling Limited and the last line of the movie was "Let's go have a drink and smoke a cigarette." The lights came up and he turns to me and says, "What do you want to do?" I said "Let's go have a drink and smoke a cigarette." He said, "What?" His brow was furrowed and he was obviously puzzled and confused. I couldn't believe this guy was not getting my movie reference, as I was referencing the movie we had just seen. He had just heard the line 30 seconds before. Weird!
6) I had to buy the drinks. We went to the Khyber as it was the only decent bar in the proximately of the movie theater. When we got there, we ordered two beers. The bill was seven bucks or something. He attempted to pay with a credit card, which was not gonna fly as the Khyber is a cash only sort of place. I was mildly unimpressed that this guy would show up to our date with nothing but two pennies and a ball of lint in his pocket. Needless to say, I had to buy the beers.
7) His conversation skills were lacking, to say the least. We're at the bar and he turns to me and says "tell me something interesting about yourself." What is this? A pop quiz? I felt put on the spot and awkward. I didn't know what to say, so I said "I don't know! Jeez! What do you want me to say?" Again, he demanded I tell him something interesting about myself. I realized this guy was not going to drop it, so I told him about the time a spotted leopard almost ate me in the jungles of India which--I kid you not--is a true story.
8) I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. After I relayed my cunning and danger-filled tale of leopards and near-death experiences, I asked him to tell me something interesting about himself. I know my leopard story is a hard act to follow, but i figured he had something interesting up his sleeve. I mean, why else would he demand that I tell him something interesting if he didn't have something interesting he wanted to tell me? He looked baffled and confused by my request and said "Ummmmm, wellllllllll, I don't know." I was really annoyed because I coughed up something interesting on demand and without warning and he was the one that started this awful conversation. The least he could do was reciprocate! I said, "Come on! Tell me something interesting about yourself." He looked at me and says "Well, I'm left-handed."
9) Reality bites. I realized that I was on a crappy date with a cheap-booted, porn pushing, unthoughtful, broke, left-handed, self-proclaimed yuppie-hipster. I needed to get the hell home, STAT. I gulped down the rest of my beer and didn't make a move to buy a second round. We walked back to my car.
10) The icing on the cake. We get to my car and, lo and behold, I have a parking ticket. This sealed the deal. If there was any doubt in my mind that this was a terrible night, the ticket pretty much cleared it up for me. I sighed, took the ticket from my windshield and drove the doofus home.
Well, that's pretty much it, Philadelphia. This date was probably more about me being a weirdo and less about him being all that bad. I realized after this night that I was not ready to be back in the "dating world," so I went back to my usual routine of watching The Goonies on a Friday night and/or drinking beers with Anna. Meh.
We went to the Popped! festival yesterday and the amount of inspiration for sketch ideas was through the roof. We didn't know who to draw first: the high school kids in full-on hot topic gear or the melting punk rocker with the pristine mohawk wearing more make-up than my Mom. Of course, there were plenty of shirtless college dudes milling about taking in the sun's rays (have fun tending to your sunburns today, boys).
We even spied a little Kitten-in-Training. Observe:
Not bad, Maya! Once you hit Jr. High and play a few rounds of spin the bottle you might have some material to contribute.
We couldn't draw everyone we saw, but these lucky few were the ones who made the cut. Enjoy!
This next one is a personal favorite for two reasons: it was drawn by the incredibly talented Jenna Davis about the incredibly awesome Alexis, the mastermind of the entire Popped! fest.
Thank you, Alexis, for throwing the funnest fest ever. You are definitely the hostess with the most-ess, as they say. Thank you, Jenna, for being just plain amazing. We had a blast and can't wait until next year's fest. We've already marked it in our social calendars. In pen.
Seriously dude? Okay...if this is your thing, we're cool with it. We're not sure if Richard Simmons is cool with you borrowing his gear, but you two can work that out. We just want you to be happy.
As soon as we showed up to the fest, at least five people requested we draw this guy. So we did. And here he is, in all of his sweet, sweaty glory:
This guy. What can we say about him? He is definitely a "nighttime guy" and a "party vampire," if you will. It was strange to see him in broad daylight, to say the least. He is always ready to party and he always knows where the party is because he's usually the one throwing it...and has been for the last 45 years. He's so old that Bea Arthur was his prom date, but can still throw down with the best of 'em. This guy can work a room and manages to get even the biggest fuddy-duddy to throw a lampshade on their head and cut the rug.
This duder will kick it 'til 4:01 am while the rest of his age bracket is contributing to their 401k.
Let it be noted that this is the first time we followed through on a "sketch me!" request because he is basically a walking cartoon character and makes for fun drawing material.
A huge congrats goes out to Rachel for her awesome idea of sketching The Rittenhouse Lawyer. Her point-by-point description of this douchetard had us in belly laughs. We'll get crackin' on that A.S.A.P. Enjoy your tickets to Popped!
A big thanks to everyone who submitted ideas. A few honorable mentions we received include:
The Wannabe New Yorker. This would basically be girls who wish our awesome Gayborhood was the West Village and love the fact that Philly is referred to as "the 6th borough." These girls are LAME!
The Mutter Museum-goer. I would have no idea how to draw this person as I'm not sure what a typical Mutter-goer looks like. I actually go to the Mutter quite frequently, but I'm not sure of the physical characteristics of its attendees. I would most likely have just drawn a nerd with a fetus in a jar behind him.
Also, we'll be at Popped! all day today drawing festival-goers which will be featured on our site next week. Get your game face on. No one is safe. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Step right up! This here is the first ever Shmitten Kitten contest. Pretty exciting, right?
Here's the deal: we wanna know what you'd like to see us cover next on our site. Which stories or drawings would you like to see us take a stab at? We're open to any topics your little heads can think up. You are in the driver's seat here, Philly. Come up with something awesome for us!
Submit your suggestions to tips@shmittenkitten.com by tomorrow and we will pick the best idea outta the bunch. That lucky genius will win two tickets to the Popped! Festival happening this weekend and will get to see their brilliant suggestion fully realized on our site (with our own unique Shmitten-spin on it, of course). Yup, you and your best homie will soak up the sun, scope out some hot young thangs, and rock out to some rad bands. We'll be there at Popped! too, hanging out and sketching some dudez. Come find us and give us high-fives.
We're excited to see what you guys come up with. Think! Submit! Win!
Hot weather, sticky ice-cream fingers, bad, poofy hair, and even smellier guys can only mean one thing...SUMMER IS HERE! And with summer here and happening, we felt we would talk a bit about two very important topics: the summer fling and the vacation boyfriend. Enjoy!
We'd love to hear about your own summer sweethearts and vacation Romeos. As always, feel free to submit your thoughts, drawings, stories, rants, raves or whatever to us at our Shmitten Kitten emails listed somewhere over there! ->
As summer rolls in and temperatures rise, you might find yourself pursuing a summer fling while you are on vacation. Go for it! But, just be sure to keep your wits about you and don't get involved emotionally. So, with you in mind, dear readers, we have compiled a Guide to Summer Dating. Check it:
1. Keep it simple and keep in mind that casual is key. Allow all expectations of further contact between you two to fade along with your tan lines. The thrill of an arrangement like this is that it is so fleeting. Embrace these fleeting feelings!
2. Don't Add Each Other to Your Social Networks: It can seem tempting to accept his MySpace and/or Facebook requests, but believe me, you'll cringe at his obnoxious status updates, insistent PARTY!!1! bulletins and his constant stream of group party pics come fall. This guy will lose all of his charm when the only contact you have with him is through awkward Facebook emails riddled with grammatical errors. Besides, summer guys, as a rule, don't look as hot in turtleneck sweaters come autumn.
3. Lower Your Standards: You might be surprised at the dudes you find yourself entertaining while summer flinging. He's a pizza delivery boy? Sure, why not? He still lives at home with his parents? As long as he makes a decent effort and is polite, sure we'll keep him around for a few weeks. Does he wear a hemp necklace, shave his chest and wear mandals, i.e. mens' sandals? Oh wait, hold up, that's a no go. Come on, we still have some standards left.
4. Don't Get Too Involved in His Family: Summer guy might try to drag you along to some barbecue shindig or a miniature golf game with his fam, but don't fall for it. Although the allure of possible free food and drinks might be tempting, the truth is that you're gonna forget him in two weeks and it's not worth the stress of making small talk with his bratty little sister or his creepy Hillbilly uncle. Trust us, just say no!
5. Enjoy Yourself: Summer flings are meant to be as fun as chomping on a snow cone on the boardwalk. It is as ephemeral as cotton candy. And it's as scrumptious as a big basket of cheese fries. Wait, what was I talking about? Now I'm just hungry.
Anyway, if you follow these simple steps, you can be sure to flaunt your fling with the best of 'em!
As we’ve turned the corner to summer time, my daydreams of water ice and sunshine have become a sweet, sweaty reality. I can find something nice to say about all of the seasons, but summer is by far my favorite. There ain’t nothin’ better then an iced cold Tecate beer with lime and salt on a warm summer's eve, or BBQing in the park with my bar-b-crew and bar-b-cuties. And the ultimate best thing about summer is the fact that my poor, over-worked, underpaid-- actually UNpaid--medical student self finally gets to take an itty-bitty vacation! It’s only two weeks off, but I’m still super stoked on it.
I love vacation. It’s a three letter word for me: VAY-KAY-SHUN! I screamed it from the hills on my last day of school this year. PS, I am now a fourth year medical student, so hooray for me! One year to go! Anyway, I decided to make the most of my quick break by traveling abroad. Well, more like I traveled with a broad, my girl Coco, to the distant and foreign country of Canada. You need a passport to get in there now, so it feels more along the lines of a strange and mysterious land and not just our friendly neighbors to the north. Actually, it’s just more of a terrible wait at the border while some dude that talks like the mom from Bobbie’s World takes his sweet time looking over your legal documents.
Despite the long-ass wait and Canada’s lack of exoticism, Montreal proved to be as awesome as everyone says it is. I had a super excellent time up there. They have amazing coffee and a thriving circus culture. Their hacky sack park guys could kick the sacks out of our hacky dudes, anytime. There are attractive French-speaking people everywhere, too. And, they even have LARPer’s battling each other in the park! I think our West Philly battle knights should take a field trip up there and battle Montreal’s Styrofoam sword wielding dorktards. That would be awesome.
I also got inspired in Montreal to write about a very bizarre yet entertaining phenomenon that happens but once a year: The Vacation Boyfriend. Why is it that you can go away for a mere blip in time and manage to meet someone awesome, fall in love and then fight and break up all over the course of a few days? It’s like Rick Moranis got a hold of a real relationship and shrank it down. [Note from Anna: You did not just drop a Honey, I Shrunk the Kids joke in here! THAT IS AMAZING!]
I also find it hilarious that you can never find someone decent in your own city, but the second you step out of town you find someone totally amazing. It is true that your vacation boyfriend is always the man of your dreams. Mine was tall and blond, hilarious and handsome and smarter than a smart car parked at MIT.
It is also likely that you will always meet your vacation boyfriend on your second to last night in town. It is a weird phenomenon and I can’t quite figure out why it pans out the same way each time. My best guess is that there’s a monkey in the sky riding a satellite wearing a tinfoil hat who controls the way vacation boyfriend operates with an Atari joystick. Or something like that. Maybe the monkey uses a giant remote control with a 6 foot long antennae and one giant red button in the center. Whatever the mechanism, I find it baffling that vacation boyfriends all turn out the same.
I met this Vacation Boyfriend on my second to last night in Montreal. He made googly eyes at me at a party and instantly my pupils turned into red, throbbing cartoon hearts and my tongue unrolled out of my mouth and across the floor. As soon as I looked at him, my peripheral vision became blurred and starry and “Dream Weaver” drowned out everything in the room. We hit it off instantly. He was intelligent and sweet and extremely handsome. Within the first hour of meeting him, I was already imagining how beautiful our children would be.
We ended up kissing that night in front of a roomful of sloppy Montreal party kids at some sort of bogus after-party. I’m not usually one for the PDAs but, hey, I was on vacation and I didn’t know these fools so give me a break! A girl’s gotta cut loose every once in a while. The last time I kissed somebody at a party was two New Year's ago at Making Time. As a side note, I think every single person in Philadelphia has a sloppy public kiss story about Making Time. Something about that party makes drunk people want to smooch. They should call it “Making Slime” because of all the spit and slobber that happens there.
So, vacation boyfriend and I ended up smooching and talking until the wee hours of the morning. It was sad saying goodbye to him, as I thought I was leaving that morning. I was annoyed that I met an amazing person just long enough to say goodbye. We talked about him coming to visit me in Philadelphia and my last words to him were “get a passport.”
The next day when we were supposed to leave, due to extraneous circumstances, Coco and I decided to stay in Montreal for one more night. We were hanging out drinking beers and eating amazing Indian food in a rad little restaurant when Coco goes “HEY! It’s vacation boyfriend!!” I couldn’t believe my luck. Vacation boyfriend had just sauntered his handsome self past the bar we were at. He had no idea I was still in the city. I ran out after him and caught up to him a block up the street.
I felt like I was in a movie as I jumped into his arms. Life was just too good to be true at that moment. Vacation boyfriend looked utterly floored to see me. He gazed at me in bewilderment and amazement before planting a smooch on my lips. I was so excited! I had one more night to spend with him!
Well, that’s when things starting sliding downhill. First of all, since it was our last night in Montreal, all of our friends were hanging out. Of course, I invited vacation boyfriend to come along and hang out with everyone. He was really nervous around my friends, which made me feel awkward. Then, vacation boyfriend wanted to leave so I reluctantly said goodbye to my buddies.
After we left, he immediately tried to get me to come over to his house and bed down with him. I had to politely tell him that I was only up for smooching. I’m just not going to go sleep with some guy two days after I meet him! Sorry to you slutty boys out there, but it’s just not what I’m into.
As a side note, to you slutty girls out there: you go on with your bad self! I just want to go off on a quick rant for a second and say I feel kinda silly for using the term "slut" because I typically hate words like "slut" due to the context they're usually used in. I'm using it in the most friendly and non-derogatory way possible! I have no problem with people expressing themselves sexually, and my only advice to all the ladies and gentlemen out there is to just stay safe and protected. Even though my own personal choice is not a promiscuous one, I am not judgmental at all towards other women, or towards men for that matter. I'm using the term "slut" very lightly here.
Actually, I typically hate words that are used to degrade women about their sexuality. It is my opinion that a women should be able to express themselves sexually without have a social stigma attached to it. Even though I can be a bit of a prude, I just want to let you ladies out there know that I'm not one of those girls that judges my fellow sisters! Just stay safe, happy and healthy! Now, excuse me while I go blast Bikini Kill and jump on my bed.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I absolutely hate when a guy tries to move too fast when I've been very clear that I'm not interested. When I’m really into a guy and he ruins it by trying to pressure me, it is a huge turn off. Am I right? Why do guys do this? Don’t they like to smooch and cuddle!? And then make me an omelet in the morning? Vacation boyfriend acted a fool that night. I think he actually used the phrase “You’re such a tease!” What is this? An '80s after-school special? What a dork. We ending up smooching for one minute and thirty-two seconds and then I rolled over and promptly went to sleep.
As a side note, I fully realize that my after school special link had absolutely nothing to do with what I'm talking about. It was just too hilarious and awesome to not share with all y'all. The line that says "you're gonna look like cooked spaghetti" is probably the sickest dis ever, and definitely the most poignant lyric I've heard all day. I plan on taking this insult to the streets. Soon all the young ragamuffins will be using it. Just wait. You'll see.
I wrote Vacation Boyfriend a nice email when I got home. I told him I had a nice time with him and that I'd like to continue talking to him. All he wrote back was “I’m glad you got home okay.” That was it. One line. Wow. So my dreamboat Canadian man turned out to be just another crappy dude that was only after one thing. On the brighter side, at least he can be crappy in a whole other country! And, at least I can be sure there will be no awkward run-ins at my local haunts.
And with that, I leave you with this informative and educational video about Canada. You stay classy, Philadelphia. And thanks for stopping by.
We've been busy over here at Shmitten Kitten headquarters.
I, Anna, have been the guest editor on Philebrity this whole week. Yup, while Joey and Ruth have been relaxing shoreside, I've been cranking out the posts--about 10 a day!--and having a total blast while I'm doing it. Bop over and check it out, if you haven't already.
Shannon and I will be taking our sketch books to the Popped! Festival and drawing some festival goers for ya. We are really looking forward to meeting some of our readers and watching the bands play. If you see us there, please stop over and say hello.
If you've noticed, we have a "Store" section now too. It's right up top under our heading. If you wanna buy any of our posters, give a shout and we'll hook it up!
Additionally, we have been busy putting some new posts together which we hope to debut soon. We have been working on some hysterical stories that we think you'll really enjoy.
So, stay tuned. We have some rad stuff coming your way!
To wrap up our "Park Life" series, we have one last dude for all y'alls. Anytime you go to the park, this guy WILL BE THERE. Guaranteed.
This guy is kind of the worst. Someone should call PETA on his ass. No, he doesn't abuse his animal in the physical sense, but we all know he is using that animal for one thing and for one thing only: TO GET GIRLS!!!
He will walk past an entire bench full of young children "oohing" and "ahhing" over his dog without a second glance. But the minute a moderately attractive female shows interest in his dog, the brake lights go on and he'll screech to a blinding halt. He is more than willing to tell a cute girl about the entire veterinary history of his dog, but God forbid he lets an old man pat his puppy's head.
Shame shame, Puppy Pimp! We know what you're up to! Without the dog, you ain't nothin' but a boring White guy. We were going to say you're like Superman with the dog but like Clark Kent without it. Then we realized that Clark Kent is hot, and you're not! Rather, without the dog, you're just the dude that does data entry in the cubicle next to Clark Kent at The Daily Planet.
Still, your dog is the cutest. Especially when you let it swim in the fountain.
This guy...swoon! There ain't nothing cuter than a man with a baby. Don't y'all remember those movies? The '80s don't lie. Anyway, a dude playing with a kid is always pretty freakin' adorable, especially when they're trying to scale the park's ugly lion statue or playing ninjas or something.
He looks great in a ringer tee and his kid is probably named something awesome, like "Ruby" or "Alistair." He would totally be your dream man if he wasn't already snagged by the bespectacled, tattooed, rock 'n' roll lady otherwise known as "The Cool Mom." (Uh, someone needs to draw her. Get on this, Philadelphia!)
With Urban Outfitters located a hop, skip and a jump away from the park, this little guy can be seen milling around daily. He is a chain smoker--which he uses as an excuse to take a smoke break every 15 minutes--and he constantly checks his cell phone for incoming texts. He might help you find the t-shirt you need if he's in the mood to be nice, which depends on if he's just had a coffee or not.
This is his second retail job ever, as his first one was at the Hot Topic at Cherry Hill Mall. His pants are slim and his attitude is shitty, but if you're his friend he will hook you up with a discount, BIG TIME.
This next guy is the guy you secretly love to love even though he's a total weirdo. If you tried to bring him home to meet your family, your mom wouldn't say anything negative at all, but would definitely raise an eyebrow or two.
He also reminds us of every '80s movie geek that never got the girl. In school, he played the trumpet, competed on the debate team and even won the science fair two years in a row. The two things in life that he would never admit to anyone are that he used to worship "Weird Al "Yankovic when he was younger and that the first concert he ever attended was Milli Vanilli.
But now this geek has grown up, gone to college, studied communications and seriously loves Leonard Cohen. He is still totally obsessed with his ex-girlfriend and contemplates boom-boxing "In Your Eyes" outside her bedroom window on a daily basis.
Oh God, every park has this toolbox dude kicking around. Did I miss a memo? Do you need to have one of these champs on display to qualify for park funding from the state?
He is harmless, for the most part, but becomes severely grating when he's either drunk or stoned. He'll bring his own boombox to the park and blast something cliche like Bob Marley or Sublime. Sometimes he'll just tune in to the radio, which will further catapult him into public nuisance-land.
If this guy were an action figure, he'd come with douchey wraparound shades, a Jeep and a sunburn.
Thanks, Elaine, for this awesome submission. In particular, I love the Pete Wentz reference because I'm a closet mallpunk.
I feel like this is total "first boyfriend" material right here. When you look back over your yearbook and see his dorky piercings memorialized in his portrait, you can't believe 1) that you ever found this guy hot and 2) that you were practically suicidal when he dumped you to date some lame freshman. You'll be like, "this is the guy I cried myself to sleep over for an entire summer? What the hell was I thinking?"
This guy will also think that hanging out at a diner constitutes an actual date and he'll always insist on splitting the bill. However, being the Suburban, we know that his parents have a sweet house with a comfy couch, a huge television, and a fully-stocked pantry that always made his offer to "just stay in and watch a movie" so damn appealing.
A huge thanks goes out to everyone who attended our art show reception last week at Conspiracy Showroom. It was a thrill to meet our loyal readers and to finally put faces to names. And, to all of our buddies, thanks for coming out and giving us hugs and high-fives.
We'd also like to give a shout out to the ladies at Conspiracy, who were top notch and a complete delight to work with. We couldn't have asked for a more friendly, welcoming, hospitable team. A huge thank you goes out to them for hosting the party.
While we are handing out thanks, we'd also like to thank Monica for the write-up in the City Paper that ran this week. We love it!
Our drawings will be up in their store for the next month so feel free to pop in and check it out. We still have a few posters left for sale at $5 bucks a pop. Snatch those babies up, yo.
Thanks again to everyone for their support. We truly, truly, appreciate it.
Speaking of our art show, Brady Dale got a wee bit over-excited when checking out our work. In the grip of distraction, his fancy fruit juice took a nosedive onto the cheese tray. Frown.
Being the good sport that he is, he decided to engage in some good ol' fashioned self-mockery. Below, you will see his sketch of the "Pours-Juice-on-Cheese-at-Opening Guy." It's actually pretty awesome and totally on the money. Brady, we salute you!
Wow, our reader Paula has been busy! Here, she cranked out two sketches of some Philly peeps.
This one is a comprehensive sketch of the sneaker phreak you might see lurking around Ubiq. Personally, I didn't know guys like this existed after their sophomore year of college. I feel like they all cleaned up their act when they had to get a job at Starbucks to support their baby mamas. Shrug.
Here's Paula's incredibly detailed interpretation of the Hip-Hop Hippie. Um, wow. Just, wow.
She's like a cross between Lisa Bonet in High Fidelity and that girl who used to sit next to me in study hall with Grateful Dead stickers on her trapper keeper. Shudder. Oh, and she probably doesn't wear deodorant because the chemicals "will give her Alzheimer's."
Yes yes y'all, you heard right. We're having an art show! This is gonna be a good time, we swear.
If you're new to our blog, here's the scoop: we are Anna and Shannon and we write about Philly and its illustrious dating scene. We also adorn our blog with cartoons of various characters and stereotypes around Philly. Now, these illustrations are going to be featured in our very own ART SHOW! Hip Hop HOORAY!
WHEN: Thursday, May 15th from 6-9pm. ALSO: It's on Shannon's birthday! All the more reason to celebrate. WHERE: Conspiracy Showroom on 910 N. 2nd St., which is across the street from the North Bowl in Northern Liberties. WHAT: The artwork featured on Shmitten Kitten, plus drinks, snacks, friends, fun and surprises!
We do hope you can come! Here's the flyer, feel free to repost it:
Blind dates, by nature, are anxiety-ridden and stressful. Both parties involved show up with their own set of expectations and often times, these expectations differ wildly. For instance, we expect them to be gentlemanly, clean, and polite. Pretty crazy, right? And, God knows what they expect from us. A pulse and a pretty face, perhaps?
This is gonna seem like I'm nitpicking. Nothing about this date was THAT horrible. It's not like this guy ran over a gaggle of Catholic school girls on his way to pick me up or wet his pants in the bar or something. It's not like he had a glass eye that he snuck in the jar of pickled eggs to gross me out. (Actually, that would have been kinda awesome in a Fear Factor sort of way.) Nothing about this date was particularly horrifying, but still, this date really sucked for me and I'm gonna blog about it. If you don't like it, start your own dating blog.
"I'm part hipster, part yuppie." Cringe! What was I thinking? I really have to poke fun at myself for actually going on a date with someone that would describe themself like this. I was in a very desperate place, I suppose.
3) I realized this guy was not so cool. On the two block walk to the theater, I managed to find out that this "software engineer" really uploaded porn to the Internet for a living. Wow. Imagine explaining that one to Mom. Also, this guy went on and on about how he's a "metrosexual" and loves to shop. Going to the mall is one of my least favorite things to do, so already I was going, "Uh-Oh" in my mind. Then he told me how much he paid for everything he was wearing so I could be impressed at his savvy bargain hunting ablities. I realized then that this dude and his 35 dollar pleather boots had to go.
6) I had to buy the drinks. We went to the Khyber as it was the only decent bar in the proximately of the movie theater. When we got there, we ordered two beers. The bill was seven bucks or something. He attempted to pay with a credit card, which was not gonna fly as the Khyber is a cash only sort of place. I was mildly unimpressed that this guy would show up to our date with nothing but two pennies and a ball of lint in his pocket. Needless to say, I had to buy the beers.
7) His conversation skills were lacking, to say the least. We're at the bar and he turns to me and says "tell me something interesting about yourself." What is this? A pop quiz? I felt put on the spot and awkward. I didn't know what to say, so I said "I don't know! Jeez! What do you want me to say?" Again, he demanded I tell him something interesting about myself. I realized this guy was not going to drop it, so I told him about the time a spotted leopard almost ate me in the jungles of India which--I kid you not--is a true story.
8) I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. After I relayed my cunning and danger-filled tale of leopards and near-death experiences, I asked him to tell me something interesting about himself. I know my leopard story is a hard act to follow, but i figured he had something interesting up his sleeve. I mean, why else would he demand that I tell him something interesting if he didn't have something interesting he wanted to tell me? He looked baffled and confused by my request and said "Ummmmm, wellllllllll, I don't know." I was really annoyed because I coughed up something interesting on demand and without warning and he was the one that started this awful conversation. The least he could do was reciprocate! I said, "Come on! Tell me something interesting about yourself." He looked at me and says "Well, I'm left-handed."
Not bad, Maya! Once you hit Jr. High and play a few rounds of spin the bottle you might have some material to contribute.
Here's the deal: we wanna know what you'd like to see us cover next on our site. Which stories or drawings would you like to see us take a stab at? We're open to any topics your little heads can think up. You are in the driver's seat here, Philly. Come up with something awesome for us!
1. Keep it simple and keep in mind that casual is key. Allow all expectations of further contact between you two to fade along with your tan lines. The thrill of an arrangement like this is that it is so fleeting. Embrace these fleeting feelings!
4. Don't Get Too Involved in His Family: Summer guy might try to drag you along to some barbecue shindig or a miniature golf game with his fam, but don't fall for it. Although the allure of possible free food and drinks might be tempting, the truth is that you're gonna forget him in two weeks and it's not worth the stress of making small talk with his bratty little sister or his creepy Hillbilly uncle. Trust us, just say no!
I love vacation. It’s a three letter word for me: VAY-KAY-SHUN! I screamed it from the hills on my last day of school this year. PS, I am now a fourth year medical student, so hooray for me! One year to go! Anyway, I decided to make the most of my quick break by traveling abroad. Well, more like I traveled with a broad, my girl Coco, to the distant and foreign country of Canada. You need a passport to get in there now, so it feels more along the lines of a strange and mysterious land and not just our friendly neighbors to the north. Actually, it’s just more of a terrible wait at the border while some dude that talks like the mom from Bobbie’s World takes his sweet time looking over your legal documents.
I also find it hilarious that you can never find someone decent in your own city, but the second you step out of town you find someone totally amazing. It is true that your vacation boyfriend is always the man of your dreams. Mine was tall and blond, hilarious and handsome and smarter than a smart car parked at MIT. 
My best guess is that there’s a monkey in the sky riding a satellite wearing a tinfoil hat who controls the way vacation boyfriend operates with an Atari joystick. Or something like that. Maybe the monkey uses a giant remote control with a 6 foot long antennae and one giant red button in the center. Whatever the mechanism, I find it baffling that vacation boyfriends all turn out the same.
We ended up kissing that night in front of a roomful of sloppy Montreal party kids at some sort of bogus after-party. I’m not usually one for the PDAs but, hey, I was on vacation and I didn’t know these fools so give me a break! A girl’s gotta cut loose every once in a while. The last time I kissed somebody at a party was two New Year's ago at Making Time. As a side note, I think every single person in Philadelphia has a sloppy public kiss story about Making Time. Something about that party makes drunk people want to smooch. They should call it “Making Slime” because of all the spit and slobber that happens there.
I felt like I was in a movie as I jumped into his arms. Life was just too good to be true at that moment. Vacation boyfriend looked utterly floored to see me. He gazed at me in bewilderment and amazement before planting a smooch on my lips. I was so excited! I had one more night to spend with him!
As a side note, to you slutty girls out there: you go on with your bad self! I just want to go off on a quick rant for a second and say I feel kinda silly for using the term "slut" because I typically hate words like "slut" due to the context they're usually used in. I'm using it in the most friendly and non-derogatory way possible! I have no problem with people expressing themselves sexually, and my only advice to all the ladies and gentlemen out there is to just stay safe and protected. Even though my own personal choice is not a promiscuous one, I am not judgmental at all towards other women, or towards men for that matter. I'm using the term "slut" very lightly here.
