It is with great pleasure I bestow on you the award for the Worst Blind Date Ever. This is an honor which many have striven for, but few have achieved. Not only are spectacular qualifications needed, but also fortitude, grit and endurance. Tonight you showed all of the above, plus some!
The previous holder of the title, Mr. Jeremy Padsworth, kept the honor for five long years, and few thought his awkward, mismatched outfit two sizes too small and nasty case of Tourette syndrome could ever be topped. However, when you showed up on a Segway with one of its original wheels replaced with a bicycle tire, I knew you had potential to take his crown.
As you made your way across the busy plaza to meet me at the agreed upon park fountain, I immediately knew the Segway’s mismatched tires failed to impart enough speed to derive any wind to cool you from the heat of the July sun. Your clothes were sopping wet with what appeared to be a slicker, slimier sweat than I am used to seeing. And, boy howdy, you do not have to tell me twice you use one of those organic deodorant rocks over products that, say, work—like actual deodorant. Your smell actually made a couple of children standing in the plaza cry, and that, my friend, is the smell of a champion.
You sealed the deal for the award with your lovely greeting for me, which I imagine you had practiced several times while preparing for our blind date. I can just see you, staring nervously into your bathroom mirror going over your lines while you rolled that rock up under those horrific pits. As I stood and extended my hand, you stopped, looked at me from head to toe, then spun me around and I assume did the same to my backside (smooth move, sir, smooth). Spinning me back around to the front, you then said in a voice much louder than necessary, “Shit fire and save the matches! I’ve got me a live one here! You’re a little plump for my normal tastes, but daddy’s back is hurting from riding my Hog down here so a little cushion for the pushin’ is just what I need tonight.” If ever there were a better opening line for the WBDE Award, I am not aware of it. Bonus points for calling your broken-down Segway a “hog.”
As I pulled my key chain mace-dispenser out of my pocket and turned my back to leave you, I allowed myself a smirk and a shiver. I knew I had just encountered a new douche master. It was an honor, similar to being the first murder victim in a horror movie, to meet you.
Again, congratulations and know your story will live on for many years in the Worst Blind Date Ever Hall of Fame!