Hold the mayo

Sometimes when I'm going to check my online matches I start to type "eham" instead of "eharmony"...which leads me to believe that I am actually more interested in finding a sandwich than I am in a relationship.

My subconscious might be on to something, though, especially when I am presented with options like this...

...which, ironically, involves a sandwich.  And a snake.  But of course it involves a snake.  It always seems to involve a snake.

Unless it involves an armadillo:

Or a cat in a tank:

Don't get me wrong.  I love me some armadillo and some battle cats.  But what I really enjoy is some turkey...

...on a sandwich.  

Bucket list

You wish, you hope, you pray...and the universe sends you this guy:

Really, eHarmony?  Really?  For $20 a month I should be able to filter out "men who treat a home center as a clothier" in my search options.

Dude, Chicken Little called and said it was a false alarm.  You can go back to storing your catch or mixing a small batch of concrete...or whatever else one should be doing with a five-gallon bucket besides wearing like a palace guard.  Sigh.

Sometimes I really think God is just mocking me.  The Big Guy's like, "You've got a pretty good sense of humor, Tina, but I can one-up you.  I'm God."  For example, I own a home that overlooks a Catholic seminary.  That's right, a whole campus full of single, clean-cut educated men lacking face tattoos that I can't have.  Well played, God.  Well played.

Of course, maybe He intends for me to be single.  Surely all of these mismatches can't be signs from God?  I told you, though, He's a funny guy.  But really, what would I blog about..."Cooking for One:  How not to get tired of eating the same entree for dinner three nights in a row because you couldn't split the recipe" or "Living Alone:  How many deadbolts are too many?"

Maybe He's teaching me patience.  And tolerance.  If the latter is the intended lesson, then this blog certainly isn't helping my cause.  Every post probably pushes my bridal registry back another year.  By the time it comes to fruition it won't be Orrefors crystal, a Hudson's Bay blanket and a Frozen Concoction Maker, it'll be Fixodent, a new hip and matching lift chairs.  I just keep hoping that I'll be walked down the aisle at some point by my dad before getting wheeled down by six other relatives.

Even the soda machine at work mocks my singleness.  I bought a Diet Coke the other day and got a bonus can, too.  Sweet, right?  They said this:

F*** you, Coke.  God put you up to this, didn't He?

Wiener pics

Get your mind out of the gutter, people.  What did you think I was talking about?  Oooooh, you thought I meant actual penises.  Yes, penis photos and the Internet go together like bananas and peanut butter, hot dogs and ketchup, cucumber and dill...you get the idea.  And if you find yourself on an online dating site chances are good that one slipped through their filters for all the world to see.  But really, I don't need to see that on my phone.  Or on my work computer during lunch.  

I'm talking about family-friendly wiener pics.  As in wiener dogs.  The sheer number of profile photos featuring Dachshunds (and probably miniature pinschers because I can't tell the difference when they're laying down) amazes me.  Men are fascinated by their phallus, so why not have one as a pet?

These men have a lot of fun with their wieners.  They like to pet, scratch and play with them all day--they love getting them worked up.  Wieners love a good bone, and they're always excited when you come over.

Some men take their wieners very seriously.  They judge each other's on overall size, length and hair color.  The Dachshund Club of America lists breed standards that include being "long in body...with robust muscular development," "bold and confident head carriage," and skin that is "elastic and pliable without excessive wrinkling."  No one wants to see a wrinkled wiener.  

When not involved in wiener contests, some men like to snuggle with their wiener.  This guy likes wieners by his face.

A lot of men like to play with their wieners in bed.  And they usually want you to play with it too.  

Others prefer to play with them on the floor.  Ok...it's your carpet.

     

Some men like to dress them up.  I must admit that I like this one.  Call me kinky.

And some just like to show them off.  

But remember, if your wiener is on display for more than four hours, seek help.  It's a wiener, not a World Cup trophy.  Give that wiener a rest.