Santa is on strike due to global warming. All presents this year will be delivered by Sasha the Christmas Tiger. Milk and cookies may not be sufficient.
Due to the well of my friends’ “def not an axe murderer” date recommendations drying up, I have turned to that most sacred of modern relationship institutions: online dating. As a very busy person trying to get it in with other very busy people, I prize honestly and directness above all else when it comes to profile creation. I include full body shots in my photos, try to minimize the use of MySpace angles in selfies, and write at the very top of the summary/caption/profile that I am fat. Not “curvy,” not “thick,” not “lots to love”–I’m f*cking fat. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also known that weight is a dealbreaker for lots of people. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.
About a year ago I met “Evan” via Tinder. We exchanged friendly messages for a few hours one night and agreed to meet up for drinks the following evening. I waited for a full hour past the designated time, and just as I was getting up to leave, the texts started rolling in.
“I can see you sweating from here.” “How long does it take you to roll out of bed every morning?” “Is there an earthquake or are you just getting up for more pretzels?”
Really idiotic, juvenile shit. Four separate numbers, commenting on things like my clothes, which clued me in that the senders were nearby. This went on for 15 minutes before I finally saw Evan, trying to hide in at a corner table and giggling with a group of buddies. I made eye contact, saw that he saw me, and then walked out. The texts kept up until I blocked the numbers a few hours later.
I ran into Evan about 3 weeks later. We got on the same elevator, and he tried really hard at being super interested in the emergency phone instructions. I just confronted him, and he admitted it was just some “game” that him and his friends play. He knew I was fat before agreeing to meet up; they all did, because that’s what they do. Match up with fat women, then either ghost them or “troll” them at the meet-up. It was also kinda obvious he’d never seen any consequences from this bullshit, as he was sweating pretty hard and looked more humiliated than I felt. I just said whatever and walked out, expecting to never see him again.
About a month ago, some local foodie wrote a great review of the restaurant I own, and we’ve been slammed ever since. In the past, I stayed mostly in the kitchen, but I’ve been doing more and more front-of-house stuff lately, and Valentine’s Day I was working a bit of a split between the two.
I saw Evan just as he was pushing in his date’s chair. My name isn’t on the restaurant, and he didn’t see me. I checked the section up at the hostess stand and saw that one of my favorite old-timers, Nan, was going to be his waitress. I went to the bar till, took out $400, put it in her hands, and said, “This is going to be your only table for the rest of the night. You are going to make this the worst date he has ever been on.”
She spilled every single thing she brought out to the table, all over him. I was waiting for him to blow up on Nan, but he bottled it up, obviously trying to make a good impression on his date. She seemed like a perfectly lovely lady; I told Nan to make sure everything was good for her and terrible for Evan.
She poured ice water on his d*ck. She smacked the back of his head with the edge of a tray. Spilled soup on his shirt. Dropped every fork he asked for. I personally oversalted his food, used the shit liquor for his drinks, used flour instead of sugar on his dessert. To be honest, I don’t know why he didn’t just walk out. He must have really wanted to f*ck this woman.
Finally, he cracked. Demanded Nan find the manager and bring her out. I was only too happy to emerge from the kitchen with my chef’s coat and say what, I’m not ashamed to admit, I’d been planning out all night.
“I would have said hi earlier, but I didn’t want the earthquake to disturb your dinner.”
I will savor the look on Evan’s face for the rest of my life.
He was a little too flummoxed to explain, so I pulled a chair up to the table and introduced myself to his date, Amanda. Told her how I met Evan. Showed her some fun old messages. Then I told gave her a voucher for a free meal on her next visit and told Evan to get the f*ck out and never come back.
Man found the stoplight cameras were activated during yellow lights and decided to cut the wires of it.
Florida Man: Chaotic evil. New York Man: Chaotic good.
Holy shit. Nah dude look up the entire story, it’s INSANE.
The dude got arrested once before this for using a painter’s extension rod to point the stoplight cameras into the sky instead of cutting the wires. He didn’t cut the wires until AFTER he got out after being arrested the first time–which he did after posting facebook videos that prove that the stoplights are intentionally rigged to trick drivers into citations–the yellow lights at intersections with cameras only last THREE SECONDS, as opposed to the five seconds they last at other stoplights without cameras in the same county.
When he cut the camera cords, he reported his deeds to the news -himself,- and then politicians pressured the local police force into arresting him. The local police and sheriff deputies actually SUPPORT him for his actions because the lights have been killing innocent people! During his most recent arrest, one of the Sheriff’s Deputies actually -offered to bail him out-.
When he got home again after these incidents, there was a surveillance camera planted at his house BY THE GOVERNMENT to watch him! His reaction to being surveilled? He painted over the camera in America’s flat out fucking ballsiest “fuck you” to the gubmint I’ve ever heard of.
And it gets EVEN CRAZIER. After painting over the camera, suddenly this guy–his name is Stephen Ruth by the way–started GETTING ATTEMPTS ON HIS LIFE. He reports that a car intentionally tried to hit him in a head-on collision, and after talking about the car to his neighbors, they confirmed that the car in question (Or at least, one that was visibly identical, its occupants included) had been staking out his house! Somebody was legitimately trying to MURDER HIM over his discovery and his actions!
As a final insult to injury, Ruth pointed out that the VAST majority of the cameras were found SPECIFICALLY in lower-to-middle-class neighborhoods. As well, the victims of these rigged stoplights tried to go to the local news station to talk about the deaths of their family members that occurred from the rigging. Aaaand… The local station, “News12″, never aired their interviews.
Remember how I said that, after cutting the cables and calling the local news station, Ruth was arrested because of pressure from politicians? Get this: News12 is actually owned by CableVision, who PROVIDES INTERNET SERVICE TO THE CAMERAS.
Whereas mister Ruth was only trying to help people and save lives, he’s been caught up in a full-blown fucking government conspiracy that’s out for his blood. This guy isn’t Robin Hood, he makes Robin Hood look like a -CHUMP-.
