Who Ate All Da Kookies?

Well, I did it. I went speed dating last night. Not that's it's something I ever aspired to do. But, lucky me, I was the, "sure, you'll do" choice of a friend to replace someone who opted out at the almost last minute. Speed dating, in theory, should be better than suffering through an entire single date with someone you don't like. But...nah. In fact, it may be more annoying than being stuck on a bad date. Because people who speed date on the regular have the M.O. down. They sit down, they ramble on about themselves, inserting any information they deem pertinent, they ask you to ramble in a similar manner and then the whistle blows and you go on to the next. My problem with this is I'm not a rambler, so I end up awkwardly trying to say things like, "Um...I like hockey...and...I have a daughter". Perhaps it was my subconscious trying to intentionally derail the experience. Whatever the reason, I didn't meet anybody I wanted to date (although one woman did ask me to marry her after finding out I can cook and do Miss N's hair all by myself). But all's well that ends well since I have a couple of dates this week. If nothing else, it provided me with a good story and thus hilariousness from my partner in speed dating:

Her: All these men are creepy. Pretend we're together.

Me: ...If we're together, then why are we at speed dating?

Her: We're swingers looking for another couple.

Me: Again, why are we at speed dating? Swingers look for other couples.

Her: You know what? I don't wanna be married to such a mouthy bitch. We're divorced now.

Me: Cool. You take the kids, I'ma go find a newer, younger model.

Her: If I weren't halfway drunk, I'd object to that statement.

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Me: Damn, look at that chick's makeup...it's....a lot.
Her: She looks like like a cross between Snookie and Cookie Monster. She's Snookie Monster. Can you imagine Cookie Monster with a Snookie accent? 'Oh my gawd Elmoww, you ate all da kookies."