My most recent invention is a dating service called Hater Mater, where people are paired based on the things they dislike rather than the things that they like.
This is the preliminary questionnaire I have written for people using the App:
1. On a scale of 0-10, how much do you hate the sky?
2. Please choose the stupidest fucking sign in the zodiac.
3. Order these celebrities in the sequence in which you would most want to see them surreally injured in a crossbow incident:
Amy Schumer
The Ikea Monkey
Ethan Hawke
The entire cast from Orange is the New Black
Eric Trump
Adam Driver and Terry Richardson
4. On a scale of 0-10, how much do you hate the ocean?
5. Which Margaret Atwood novel gives you the worst stabbing stomach pain?
6. What do you hate more, squirrels or birds? (Please elaborate)
7. Do your parents hate you more than you hate them, or do you hate them more than they hate you?
8. Is you best friend kind of an asshole?
9. Do you find chopsticks to be infuriating and stupid and pretentious?
10. Do you often find yourself fantasizing about making over-rated Canadian author Margaret Atwood cry?
11. Which part of this passage from a celebrated Margaret Atwood novel do you despise the most?
“Who are you? And I mean really. Who are you?”
My gut tells me that if I tell her right now, in this moment, it will not be well-received. “A friend,” I say, my gaze lowering to her lush mouth and lifting. “And the man who wants to kiss you. Really kiss you. Can I kiss you, Myla?”
“You’re asking?”
“Yes. I’m asking. After all you’ve been through-”
“He hasn’t destroyed me. He hasn’t beaten me and I don’t like that you think he has.”
“I don’t think he’s beaten you.”
“He hasn’t,” she insists. “I’m not giving him that power and damn it, you better not either by treating me like I’m broken and fragile. So kiss me if you’re going to kiss me or let me go, if you don’t want-”
I cup the back of her head, and slant my mouth over hers, my tongue sliding against hers, stroking, caressing, and the taste of her, one part hunger I welcome, but the other part, the torment, I intend to drive away. I deepen the kiss, my hand pressing beneath her tank top, finding warm, soft skin. My fingers splay over her rib cage, while my mind reminds me that no matter how big she talks, she wants this escape for a reason. She has been abused, used, hurt. “
12. “Everybody loves a parade,” true or false?
13. Is Real Estate for fools?
14. When you hear the word “Mindfulness” do you want to build an attack drone or buy a magic killing sword?
15. What do you hate more, having to use a sink or writing with a pen?
16. Which superhero would you most like to beat-up in a fight?
17. Do you hate it when people say, “Good Morning!”
18. Are relationships insanely unrealistic and entirely impossible?
19. On a scale of 1 to 100, how much do you hate non-Spanish speaking people who pronounce Nicaragua as ‘Knee-ah-rah-hah?”
20. If you heard that Margaret Atwood opened a restaurant and that all the sandwiches were named after her poems, would you immediately vomit?
]]>He has a few words, but they’re still unreliable and slippery. His verbalizing remains musical, each vocalization a note to a song that lives only in him. And so we were startled when he began to utter words, words we had never heard him say before, with absolute clarity.
The first time, while upsetting his food, he suddenly stopped and clearly said, “Osprey.” He then receded back into his activities, but within five minutes our friend Ottilie showed up at the door. ( She was having a panic attack because she’d lost a contact lens.) It was a bit of a freak-out, that.
Did Jones have ESP?
Later, while he was throwing building blocks at our chandelier, he stopped and said, “Pree-Pree.” Two minutes later, the delivery of my cheeseburger from Burger’s Priest arrived.
It was at this point that I realized our boy had a gift.
And as I am a Tiger Mother Dad, I decided to immediately implement an ESP training plan:
***************************************
Ouija Board Exercise
My son and I seek to contact a spirit.
1. Jones flips ouija board over.
- Jones flips ouija board over.
- Jones flips ouija board over.
Pokemon Go Exercise
Pokemon Go uses the GPS in your phone to help you locate the “spirits” you must capture in order to win the game. After showing Jones a character from the game, I take him out into the city to see if he can lead me to the Pokemon in question without my help.
- Wigglytuff
Jones obsessed with stairs at front of apartment. Must climb up and down. Like baby robot obeying dark master. Feel like he’s been doing this for hours. Possessed? J certainly has his mother’s endurance, that’s for sure! Forgot to get her special grapes at the store! Fuck!!
2. Dewgong
Again Jones was dazzled by front stairs. Tried to lead him away but very, very stubborn!! Just dug in and yelled until I quit. Could a passage to a spirit realm exist there? Might have to start digging.
3. Ponyta
Jones drawn (summoned?) to empty bottle on street. Bangs it against twig as if conjuring super cute fire pony Ponyta. No Ponyta, though a Charmander was near. (N.B: Old Asian women dominant in bottle reclamation! WHY???)
Card Test
I select a playing card at random from a deck and attempt to telepathically transmit it to Jones.
- J sticks something dangerous and sharp from ouija board in his mouth. Next several minutes spent trying to take thing out of his mouth. Forgot card I was sending him.
- Jones finds raspberry bowl. Dumps on floor. Stamps. Purple red splatter everywhere.
Like Pulp Fiction in here. Actually traumatic. J then throws dust pan into my face knocking off glasses. Funniest thing he’s ever seen. Unresponsive to psychic message of 3 of Clubs.
- Concentrating on sending card while Jones screams. Shouting very piercing, very upsetting. Bad for health. Such a fucking headache. Sometimes just want to give up, turn into water. Take emergency pot brownie I keep wrapped in Kleenex in my pocket. Conclude experiment.
What follows is a partial transcript of what some of their surveillance revealed:
2:43 am: Ford drives his Escalade, distinctive Ford You license plate and brass balls hanging from the vehicle’s undercarriage visible, into 7-11 parking lot. Tom Cochrane “Life is a Highway” plays loudly through the speakers.
2:45 am: Ford urinates against a nearby dumpster and enters store.
2:46 am: Ford buys large bag of Cheesies, opens them and begins eating them.
2:47 am: Ford says that each Cheesie is like “ a little orange blow-job,” and then offers some to the clerk.
2:48 am: Ford associate Sandro Lisi drives into the parking lot.
2:49 am: Ford asks clerk about his accent, wants to know if it was real or just something he made up.
2:50 am: Cheesie dust all over the mayor, he tells clerk that if city hall wasn’t so stuck-up, he’d speak with an accent all the time. Loves the Jamaican accent he says in Jamaican accent.
2:51 am: Ford gives clerk his business card, tells him to call if he has a pothole problem.
2:52 am: Sandro Lisi honks car horn.
2:53 am: Police receive tip from psychic that Ford might be in New Jersey. Helicopter dispatched. Possible we are currently following a double. Ford not to be underestimated.
2:54 am: Ford hurries out of 7-11, avoiding all eye contact with Lisi, unrolls Escalade driver’s side window and then goes and hides behind the dumpster.
2:55 am: Lisi, one arm in a sling, enters into 7-11 and buys a pepperette, bottle of Gatorade and a Scratch N’ Win ticket.
2:57 am: Lisi scratches ticket and wins. Very happy. Punches good arm up into air. Cashier gives him $10. Lisi buys five more tickets, scratching each one at counter. No wins. Lisi, angry, but clearly more disappointed in himself.
2:58 am Lisi leaves 7-11 and drops small parcel into front seat of Ford’s car.
3:00 am: Lisa makes cell phone call to Rob Ford. Undercover detective working as 7-11 clerk hears ringing behind dumpster. Lisi drives away
3:01 am: Rob Ford pops up from behind the dumpster and runs to car, looks in window at parcel Lisi had placed on the front seat. Does window of vehicle back up and returns to 7-11, buying rolling paper, matches and a copy of Maxim Magazine.
3:05 am: Ford exits 7-11.
3:06 am: Ford returns to 7-11, buys chocolate milk, drinks it, sticks several “Ford for Mayor” fridge magnets on a variety of products and surfaces.
3:10 am: Ford exits 7-11. Spots raccoon near dumpster, throws empty chocolate milk carton at it, shouting “Go deep, raccoon, go deep!”
3:11am: Two more raccoons emerge from shrubbery near dumpster, they all stare back at Ford with determined, glowing eyes.
3:12 am: Ford hurries into car and quickly departs parking lot.
*1 “I don’t want to be conceited and I don’t want to toot my own horn. But I believe when it comes to my fiscal policy, I am by far the best mayor the city has ever had.” Rob Ford, Nov 3, 2013
]]>