20 reasons I suck at being an adult.

For the better part of 3 years I have assumed I was in the midst of a quarter life crisis. I'm starting to find out though that maybe it's not just a phase. Maybe I'm just a bad apple. I'm arrogant to an almost sickening level even though I have nothing to brag about. I'm writing a non-fiction memoirish book right now and I feel like my tales of awesome raging can compensate for the unlikable person I come off as, spoiler alert...it doesn't. Yet through all of this I have no desire to change in the least because fuck you I live in LA and my life is more interesting than yours.

Sometimes when I'm browsing the internet something will hit me over the head to remind me of this, let's do a breakdown of Post Grad Problems 20 reasons you suck at being an adult.

1. Maybe you have a 401k. Maybe it’s an IRA. Either way, you don’t know how it works, you’ve never checked it, and you don’t care.

I'll do you one better, I've never withheld a penny from one of my paychecks and I always take out the maximum number of exemptions on my taxes. The reason I do that is because that $50 that I would put in my IRA might provide me with financial stability some day down the road...or it could get me a gram of Molly this weekend. Easy decision.

2. “Buying groceries” consists of loading up on perishable foods that you’ll fail to eat on time, but they’ll remain rotting in your fridge for weeks.

Buying groceries? Do they sell those as Taco Bell? Buying groceries is code name for me rewarding myself with a steak after a grueling week of working one or two days. Although it is nice to load up on my beer and fireball from the grocery store, it's a nice masking tool for those of us who still have our parents ties to the old Chase account.

3. You don’t know how to make a doctor’s appointment.

Ha! Doctor's appointments require health insurance! Besides everyone has a friend in dental school or something that can write them prescriptions and "doctor's appointments" are for giving yourself a legit 2 hour delay for work on Friday when you know in advance it's going to be a big Thursday night.

4. You still casually drop curse words into everyday conversation, and it’s inappropriate.

Fuck that, if I lived in a world where I couldn't routinely drop the word cunt I would be lost.

5. You joke with everyone that you’re a “functioning alcoholic,” but it’s not funny and you’re “functioning” at an unacceptably low level.

I tend to be an unapologetic degenerate, I used to lie to my adult co-workers when they would ask me about my weekend, but it's much more entertaining to give a brutally honest account of the events and watch the color drain from their face.

6. Your parents still pay your car insurance, and cell phone bill.

Well obviously. This iPhone 5 with unlimited data isn't going to pay for itself. And also my parking tickets.

7. People around you are getting married and reproducing, but you’re single and can’t keep a goldfish alive for more than 48-hours.

Oh good for you! Enjoy that loose vagina and stretch marks homie, I'll be meeting desperate 19 year olds for tinder blowjobs while you tell your inflating wife that she looks beautiful. True story I bought a beta fish in college, it died within a week. I got a cactus in Chicago, a fucking cactus and I couldn't keep that alive either.

8. You know nothing about cars. The mechanic could tell you that brake pads cost $5,000 and you wouldn’t argue.

Oh this is another thing that gets invoiced to the patriarch, but I'm the kind of guy that will just go ahead and just live with a rattle, my car would have to literally explode before I would willingly take it in to get looked at. Furthermore I still have Indiana plates and haven't done the CA emissions test yet, because fuck the environment.

9. You’re terrible at making yourself presentable, whether it’s buying clothes that fit well or getting a haircut that doesn’t make you look like Lloyd Christmas.

My wardrobe consists of my polos from college, whatever I get for Christmas every year, and whatever shirts I steal from the Chive when I am blacked out. I also still wear Kilroy's and Phi Psi t shirts all the fucking time just to make sure people know I was a frat guy who spent a lot of time at the hot Greek bar.

10. You’re too lazy to vote.

I've grown increasingly apathetic as I've grown older. I used to care SO much about the ideals of conservatism, now I just put up the facade so people mistake me for a waspy blue blood. I have a dad from Iowa and a mom from Pittsburgh. The whole old money thing is a fraud, Moeller is German for Miller. My ancestors were blue collar wind mill operators. Yay.

11. Something as simple as a speeding ticket absolutely destroys your budget, and sends you into a self-destructive spending spiral.

At this point in my life if I get pulled over the consequences would probably be disastrous. There's certainly some sort of warrant out for my arrest, I have an unregistered car, probably 3000 in unpaid parking tickets, and yet I still drive tipsy from time to time...Whatever, I'll trust in fate and hope.

12. You stay up until 2:00am every night, and complain about being tired every morning.

Of course. Because when you go to sleep the next thing that happens if you have to wake up and go to work. That sucks. But I can derive the smallest amount of entertainment from one more episode of The Sopranos, I'll pop an adderall in the morning and just deal.

13. When people ask, “What do you do?” you craft your answer to be as vague and confusing as possible to avoid further conversation on the subject.

God this one is so true. When I lived in Chicago I couldn't fucking understand why people would ask this question. WORK FUCKING BLOWS WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. As I've grown older I realize it's probably because before a girl fucks you she wants to make sure you don't work at the post office. Now that I work in a cool industry I make it sound like my job is WAAAAY better than it is. "Oh I work on a tv show for Fox." Oh what do you do? "I'm in production." Never say PA. No one knows what "I'm in production means." But then you talk about how the actors are SUCH A PAIN to deal with and you sound important. Then start talking about somewhere you have traveled recently. Everyone loves to talk about travel. Congrats, you can probably bang this chick at least 3 times before she finds out you're a glorified barista!

14. 75% percent of your workday is spent mindlessly surfing the internet and purposely testing the company’s web filters to see which sites aren’t blocked.

I've just kind of come to terms with the fact that I have a horrible work ethic. I really like to write, but outside of that I am pretty fucking worthless. I would prefer to spend every second at work straight up zoning out and working 4 hour days. Every time I'm against the ropes I'm like "I would literally do anything to make my dreams come true." But I wouldn't. I would like for my dreams to come true, but outside of writing my self-indulgent screenplays and this blog, I don't really actively strive for greatness.

15. Your dad still does your taxes.

I did my taxes this year. I said I gave several thousand dollars to charity because I think the government expects normal Americans to tithe. I did not tithe. But I probably have a 1% chance of getting audited. Living on the edge!

16. Instead of doing the dishes or cleaning your apartment, you call a maid service once a month. 

Well someone has to employ the illegals in Southern California. If the government would wise up and build that big ass fence, this wouldn't be an issue! I'm kidding, I don't care about illegal immigration, it probably keeps the price of drugs lower.

17. You haven’t hit the gym since freshman year of college.

I still go to the gym for several reasons. 1.) I take pleasure in knowing that I could beat most people up. 2.) I like checking in on foursquare and letting people know I'm at the gym and reminding them that they are fat 3.) When I look physically fit my dad tends to let all of my other flaws go, ignoring my thousand dollar charge at The Body Shop in West Hollywood. (It's not a mechanic)

18. “Going out for a drink” means blacking out, passing out on your couch, possibly pissing yourself, and calling in sick for work.

My friends and I have probably used every collective excuse in the book for calling in sick or coming in late for work after going on a bender. One of my buddies started killing off members of his family, that's extreme. I tend to use the classic, "my car got broken into or my apartment flooded" these can be reused and make people feel bad for you, but not to the point where they will follow up.

19. If you’re at a concert and somebody offers you drugs, you still haven’t learned to just say no.

Or in the bathroom at a bar.

20. Your Google search history includes both “Kardashian porn” and “naked Harlem Shake"

"When does Chloe Moretz turn 18"

I think the main takeaway here is that maybe we're growing older and my sophomoric outlook on life is starting to look a bit immature. I may not be great at being an adult, but I still love my family, I pick up my friends from the airport and I read non-fiction books from time to time so I think I'm doing all right. I'm not going to win any citizenship awards any time soon, but I just might have enough villain in me to have a happy ending because nice guys finish last.

SingleDudeVlog Old dudes and models

Your desire for what you find physically attractive will probably never change, so stop beating around the bush and just own it.

#SingledudeVLOG The Wetsuit

#broellervlog is now #singledudeVLOG enjoy my struggles as I attempt to adapt to daily life with these 1 minute vignettes of a twentysomething trying to figure it out

String Theory

Evidence!

I never had to clean up after myself. Ever. Growing up you take for granted that your mom cleans up after you. You could slide head first into home just to feel like a hero, cut yourself jumping over a fence and shit yourself because you ate too many Walking Tacos from the Skiles Test Little League concession stand (literally a bag of doritos with chile meat poured inside, I know AWESOME) but if you threw said vomit stained, shit/blood covered dirty clothes in the dirty clothes it was guaranteed to come out looking immaculate.

See I grew up in a semi-affluent area during the 90's when all the dads were bringing in low 6 figures, the moms were "raising the kids" and as long as you batted above .400, hit 70% from the free throw line and scored a goal per game not much was asked of you. Needless to say I never learned "chores" or "how to clean up after myself."

This behavior was reinforced when I got to college and had legal slaves cleaning up after me. Except these people you didn't even have to treat with civility like a mother, so after 18 years of an awesome mom, and 4 years of slaves, when I moved into a house at the age of 22 sans a mom or pledges clearly I was doomed.

My first few years operated under a general understanding that nothing would get clean ever unless it infuriated the other roommate to no end and he (or his girlfriend) would eventually crack and clean it up...or pay for a maid to come clean it. Needless to say I was much better at this waiting game than most, I do not need cleanliness to be productive or happy, and laying on the couch is always going to take precedent over picking up broken glass in the kitchen.

Lately I've become a much more considerate roommate, but there are still things that I shrug off. A burnt out light bulb, eh the other 3 still work. The carpet is stained, eh whatever, if I schlep over to Lowe's to rent a carpet cleaner I'm just going to get drunk and spill again. But I keep my mess in my room (my writing den is a landfill of coffee cups, cheap wine bottles and about a thousand beef jerky wrappers,) because I'm evolving into something of a grown up that is at least aware of the feelings of others.

But now a new roommate has moved in and for the first time I'm not living with exclusively my best friends. I can't just expect her to play the waiting game with me while AIDS slowly infests our apartment and hope she cracks first and cleans the whole thing, that would be unfair.

For example, yesterday I discovered our sink is clogged and the disposal doesn't work. A rational person would have immediately called a plumber, but instead I walked to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet plunger and used it on the clog in the sink. Miraculously it worked! Big win for me! I washed said sink afterward in case there was any lingering bacteria, and I felt like the problem had been solved.

Of course it hasn't been solved because the root of the problem is that on St. Patrick's Day we did a bunch of shots of Jameson from glass Kirloys shot glasses and when I drunkenly cleaned the apartment I'm sure a few of the shotglasses shattered and fell through the drain, breaking our disposal. But fuck it, it won't clog again for a few days and then I'll just plunger it again.

Later in the day I went to take a piss and when I tried to flush the toilet the flushing level literally snapped off...Fuck. So I opened the top tank and upon further inspection I realized the contraption that lifts the plug to let the top water flush into the bowl thus creating the scientific process of a toilet flush was no longer being lifted.

Again, I probably should have just called a plumber, they probably fix shit like this in 30 seconds. But alas, I felt it a path of lesser resistance to find an old pair of shoes, and rig a shoelace tied to the plug that will flush when said shoelace is pulled. I was actually quite proud of myself. This is a handy innovation, look at me, might as call me fucking MacGuyver.

Later in the evening as I was doing a load of laundry (whites and colors not separated of course) I had a realization. If I lived alone I would probably be content with my shoestring toilet and my plunger sink for the rest of eternity. What if I had some babe over to watch a movie, we have dinner and wine and when she's doing the dishes (gender stereotype holla!) afterwards she notices a clog in the sink and I come heroically in with a toilet plunger...or she has to go pee at some point in the evening and I say, don't worry just pull the shoestring when you're done.

This is not how adults are supposed to live. So this morning after conducting an hour long interview with my healthcare company assuring them that I do not use tobacco or drugs nor am I sexually active, I called a plumber and my problems will be fixed tomorrow. And my landlord has to pay for it!

This is fucking sweet!

So you're saying any problem with my apartment that isn't an egregious violation of my lease, my landlord has to completely and in an expedited manner fix at no charge? Why would you ever want to fucking own?

I think my aversion to calling my landlord to fix things is because in the past I've always had an unspoken understanding with my landlords: I'm going to rage this place to the ground and do lots of horrible things here at all hours of the day, but I'm never going to bother you.

Well the thing is, I've tamed down quite a bit so I shouldn't just endure a broken heater because I'm afraid my landlord is going to find a beer can or something. I'm 26 AND I live in California, everything short of murder is legal here.

So roommates, visitors and people genuinely interested in my emotional development I can proudly report that the string flusher will be gone at 10am tomorrow morning. That said, I know for a fact I'm going to grind some more shot glasses in the garbage disposal so I should probably keep an extra plunger under the sink just in case.

Site news: I went to Easter in spanish

I drank until 4 in the morning this Saturday because I knew as soon as I stopped I would pass out and it would be Sunday. I treat the end of Saturday night the way I think most people mourn the death of a child that had a congenitive heart defect. You know it's going to end, but you cherish every moment of it and are devastated when it's over. Ok so perhaps the end of a weekend isn't as bad as the tragic death of a child. The death of a child is way worse. But fortunately most families have more than one child, and there's always another weekend. So that's a positive right?

So when I woke up at 11am all normal protestant Easter services were over in the greater Venice/Santa Monica area, Baptist services notwithstanding. Legit, if you are in Venice there are 5 Baptist churches within 100 feet of you at all times. But I definitely didn't want to go to one of those. Black people dress UP when they go to church. We are talking suits and shit. Plus their shit goes for like 3 hours and the old black women like scream and all that gospel choir shit...not for me. Granted it may have gotten me some clout with the homeys on the block but I also didn't want to offend them by rolling out of bed in what I wore out the night before.

This left me with only one option. The 12pm spanish language service at the Catholic church.

Bingo.

Catholic services are short and there is only one time you are forced to interact with others. Learn how to say "peace be with you" in Spanish and I'm good. Also if I piss off some Mexican gangbangers who gives a shit Mexican gangsters aren't scary only black guys. (Ya I saw End of Watch, if you really want me to fear the Latin Kings don't cast Ugly Betty as the antagonist)

I swear to God I get there and there is a fucking mariachi band playing contemporary Spanish hymns. I was totally digging it. Sure I looked out of place being the only white person there (and wearing a sweater vest) but no one gave a shit. It was all pregnant 18 year olds, their screaming newborns and their tatted up factory worker husbands sauntering in 20 minutes late. People wearing ripped up jeans, oversized tshirts and backwards flatbills, it was such a beautiful justification of every stereotype I have. Seriously, you want a judgment free zone, go find a Mexican church. These people are the chillest of all the church going folk.

I tried to convince myself that people listened to the latin services for years without knowing what the fuck the priest was talking about so it was cool, but like come on I know the story of Easter, I just need to take this communion so I can keep my Chreaster streak alive and bail to my dinner party.

It might intrigue you that I write this blog laced with high brow vulgarity but still make such an effort to make it to church on Easter. I'm kinda banking on being that bad guy next to J man on the cross who was like "Hey man, I'm was a thief but I believe in you" and that dude totally got a VIP pass into heaven.

Ok enough religion that shit makes me as uncomfortable as a guy sharing a heroin needle with a gay prostitute he just met in West Hollywood. How about some light site news?

Cool.

As you've noticed I have started making short one minute videos, they are usually me ranting to a certain extent about some Sophomoric qualm about growing up. I do this because people are too lazy to read, but it's also a nice change of pace. I am going to absorb those into the blog, I am also going to make a Facebook fan page where you will be able to find links to all the videos and the actual blogs. Maybe some pictures and shit too.

Basically I am trying to streamline your SingleDude experience.

I'll try to be more active and if anyone has any suggestions please let me know.

Kickstart this

Everyone has been internet high fiving all week (plus 1'ing each other's tumblers probably) because Veronica Mars gave crowd sourcing a huge win. If you are unfamiliar with crowd sourcing and/or Veronica Mars that's because you aren't a tech obsessed web 2.0 faggot. Allow me to explain.

You are probably familiar with Kickstarter. Some jackass has a terrible idea, and you can make all of his hopes and dreams come true if you just donate $10 to the cause, you won't be charged unless he hits his goal. And you are a total dick if you ignore him and pledge nothing. So what I usually do is wait until the last minute when it's clear this person won't reach their goal...oh shit 5k away and only an hour left? I'll pledge 20 bucks and look like a fucking saint. But it will never actually hit my bank account because this Kickstarter campaign has FAILED.

Then with 5 minutes left, this asshole's mom pledges the other 5 grand so he hits his goal, now I just gave 20 bucks to some vegan tool in my office who wants to invent biodegradable jeans. Motherfucker.

Recently Kristen Bell aka Sarah Marshall was part of some campaign to make a Veronica Mars movie. (Apparently it was a cult tv show that ran for like 3 years on the WB in the mid oughts.) If they could raise 2 million dollars, they will make a movie. Thus, the power is in YOUR hands internet. In pledging you get silly rewards for each benchmark. 10 bucks you get like a movie poster, 20 bucks you get a ticket to an advance screening, 100 bucks you get a signed poster, 1000 bucks you get a SKYPE date with one of the cast members. OH GOD, I CAN'T wait to talk to the 5th billed character actor about how important my contribution was. And for like 10 grand (only 5 slots available) you and a guest get to go to A HOLLYWOOD PREMIERE!!!! OMFGGGGGG.

Basically any homeless person that hangs around the ArcLight Hollywood long enough gets invited to a film premiere, it's really not that tight.

But anyway, by making these pathetic middle class folk dish out their last shekel to fund this movie that would otherwise never get a green light, a win win situation is created. The production company has 0 risk because the movie has been funded partially (or entirely) by YOU! The fans win because they got to help revive a product they were still holding onto nearly 10 years after the fact. Nevermind the fact that the stars of the movie could easily scratch together that cash together to independently finance the film, the financiers (you) will never see a penny of potential film profit. I suppose I would hate this idea a little less if you were in effect purchasing shares of this film, but no, you're just helping nudge the process along.

So that's that. I guess it's not all bad, the people that are donating don't seem to be too upset about it and other than the fact that studios are now NEVER GOING TO FUND ANOTHER LOW BUDGET MOVIE when "hey, have you thought of Kickstarter? Veronica Mars raised 2 million dollars in 11 hours!" It's the other unintended consequence that scares me more.

This story was very fucking public. And it was celebrated as a win for the internet and the common man, you can vote with your dollars! Now everyone...even those that aren't high on internet/tech/start-up culture. They fucking know this happened. Every fucking jackass you know in the next year is going to hit you up with his retarded fucking kickstarter.

Subject: Help me fulfill my dreams.

Message: As many of you know, I have always wanted to help people. Early on I felt my calling in the medical field, but it turns out that a life as a male nurse is not as fulfilling as advertised. I realize now that my true calling is to be an actor, make people laugh and give others hope. Please help me fulfill my lifelong area  by paying for my acting lessons! Donate 10 dollars and I'll send you a video of me acting out a famous scene! 50 dollars and I'll write and perform a monologue for you! 100 dollars and I will thank you at my first Oscar Acceptance LOLZ! Thanks for helping me fulfill my destiny!!

I mean, you have got to be fucking kidding me. That bullshit reminds me of a scheme I once tried in college. I was studying abroad and I badly wanted to return for Little 5. I thought "how epic would it be if we just casually flew back to Bloomington to rage and then hopped on a plane back to Italy. It would be legendary, I would get a minimum of 4 blow jobs that weekend. So I pulled a alumni list and shot out an email to old frat guys asking for 1000 bucks so I could go back and "support the bike team." What. A. Fucking. Joke. We actually raised like 300 bucks before some guy ripped us a new asshole, seeing right through out bullshit.

I quickly donated all of the money to IUDM and abandoned the idea. But Kickstarter is making half cocked shit like that happen all day. I might as well say "I just had a bad break up with my girlfriend, please help me get over her by donating 1000 dollars to my Kickstarter campaign so I can finally realize my dream of doing cocaine off of a prostitute!

Srsly guys that's a more noble cause than your high school drop out friend who wants to revolutionize the caramel apple packaging business. It's a fucking joke.

Perhaps I'm just not into that whole "entrepreneurial thing." I mean I guess it would be nice to be able to sleep until noon every day without fear of being fired but I think people should just give up on their bullshit yakked out ideas and go work for a paycheck.

Or...you do it the RIGHT way and build a solid business plan and reach out to investors, banks, loans, establish strategic partnerships and work YOUR ASS off to make your dream a reality. But don't fucking lean on your friends and family's politeness to finance an idea you had while taking a shit. Look I want to sell scripts. I may ask you to read one from time to time. You are welcome to read it or tell me to fuck off, you can tell me it's good or that it's bad, and I will appreciate that a lot and some day you will be partially responsible for my success.

But you will never get an email from me saying "Hey, writing quality work when you have a full time job is really fucking hard, donate to my Kickstarter campaign so I can quit driving scripts around LA all day and sit around and actually write without worrying about how I'm going to pay the rent."

It's not supposed to be fucking easy, if it was everyone would do it. That said, if you do enjoy my blog and ever see me out and about, feel free to get me an IPA on draft and we'll call it even.

We Need to Talk About Tinder...

Well let's just dive right fucking into it. If you have been living under a rock for the past 2 weeks, there is a new Facebook app called Tinder. It pulls your picture and interests from Facebook and operates more or less like Hot or Not. It acts as a speed-online dating platform operating on near 100% superficiality, but you already knew all that because you are taking a shit right now scrolling through which girls you deem fuckable or not.

Now that we have that out of the way (if my 2 sentence explanation wasn't enough ask a friend, download it or read one of the other thousand articles written on the topic) let's move on. I haven't delved into the whole online dating thing at all which maybe I should seeing that I've been hung up on the same chick for like forever, but alas I think online dating is for the pathetic. If you can't go to a bar and charm a drunk girl into bed, you don't deserve to be having sex. But this Tinder thing blew up so quick to such universal generation Y fanfare, that I had to give it a spin.

I signed up and immediately saw that my profile picture wasn't going to cut it, I had some photo of a post blackout Mardi Gras picture with 7 dudes. That's not going to get it done, I know from personal experience that's an automatic x. So I spent 45 minutes looking through the depths of my Facebook photos and found 1 picture taken 3 years ago that makes me look somewhat cool and good looking. This is the first pitfall of tinder, I could have easily put on 50 pounds since then...remember this, this will be important later.

Ok, so now I have my picture, I'm ready to start Tindering. I believe the app makes some sort of effort to connect people with similar interests because on the bottom you will be told of your mutual friends and mutual interests. The problem is that my Facebook page isn't really a good reflection of who I am. I think all my Facebook says about me is that I like Boo the dog, musicals, The OC, Gossip Girl and has a quote from Wicked. It might as well say I love sucking dick. In fact, maybe I should just put that on there, and Tinder will match me up with some chicks that actually do. It's funny because our Facebook profiles aren't really a reflection of who we are, it's a reflection of what we want to be perceived as. I remember when I was much more active on Facebook I always tried to make myself come across as the cool guy (I play lacrosse and sail! Please mistake me for someone who has a house on Martha's Vineyard!) I don't know when I shifted into a flaming homosexual, but at this point I'm too lazy to change it...but that's really inconsequential, that would be using the assumption that people are using this tool to match up interests, in search of their soul mate.

They aren't. They are looking for someone attractive that is down to fuck...like right now (hence the mileage, I don't even fuck around with the 20 miles+ away)

So you start scanning the chicks, at first you are a very harsh critic. I would say the first 10 minutes or so I have a 10% acceptance rate. 8's and up only. But then after a while you get bored and anyone skinny gets the thumbs up. And then as I get more and more drunk (yes Tinder is the new lonely thing to do at a bar, its akin to checking Twitter and Instagram like 6 months ago) I just go on massive streaks of YES, until what do you know!!!?!?!?! A fucking match.

Her name is Diana and she lives in Brentwood...she's 18. Well now what the fuck do you do? I'm 26 and this girl is likely a Freshman at UCLA. Are you supposed to assume that any girl on Tinder that would say yes to a 26 year old has a fake ID. What kind of date are you supposed to take her on? I know in the movies they do coffee...but no fucking way. I'm too nervous on a first date, I need to booze hard. Do you tell her you will get her and her friends booze and throw a party at her parents house? Do you take her to a Runyon Canyon look out spot and get a handjob while looking at the stars? Is she about to ask you to her Kappa Alpha Theta Freshman Crush Dance? This is feeling very predator-ish.

I'm getting ahead of myself, I haven't even said hello yet. See, that's the thing. Saying yes to a match doesn't magically transport you to a Chattsworth Motel 6 full of her pleasure condoms. It just opens a magical line of communication with the other person, similar to double clicking their name in your AIM buddy list. So what the fuck do you say?

Me: I notice we both clicked yes on each other's picture meaning that we both agree there is at least a slight sexual attraction betwixt us. I can pick up some wine if you want to come over and watch a movie?

Ya fucking right...it's more like this.

Me: Sup?
Her: nm, looking at prom dresses...

I forgot...An 18 year old during the spring second semester means high school abort abort, pull the rip cord NOW!

But even if it's a 25 year old who I have friends in common with it's just destined to be a disaster. I guess you can lead with the, "Hey we have X friend in common!" "And YA I love Boo the dog too? Did you see his outfit today?" "We should hang out some time"

It's just a matter of time before I get hammered and start sending college blackout text messages like..."Where are you" "Come over" or the worst... "Wake up"
I don't know if that last one ever worked, I hope for the sake of that girl's father that no one ever woke up where they were, walked over to shingles with the intention of hooking up with me, only to find me passed out with half a Jimmy John's in hand.

I guess if you aren't a degenerate it could be a way to set up dates with someone that you are loosely connected with, but I see things from a more cynical point of view and think it's more likely I would ask for her snapchat name and then demand to see pictures of her tits. You know, cuz I'm like a really good guy.

This is just my opinion, I haven't heard a ton of reviews from friends, but I know one of my buddies set up one of the aforementioned scenarios and BOOM the chick that showed up was a whale. The photo was 5 years old, and he was fucking stuck. You can't just send her home at that point, what if she works at an agency or something and trashes your reputation. This is why I would suggest a little due diligence, check out all 5 pictures. An ugly person can fake it for 1 photo, much tougher to fake it for 5.
Conversely, I also have a friend who got a total clean score from Tinder. He basically used it like the gays use Grindr when he was visiting an unfamiliar city. Let's just say he saved on hotel accommodations that night. HEyooooo. And that's really what it is, it's a one night stand generator. Maybe you can use it to get phone numbers, set up a fun night out with good company of the opposite sex, but I think the prevailing theory is that if you say yes to someone you're saying "I wouldn't mind getting a bj from this person" (I saw that on Twitter somewhere, I can't take credit for that genius)

I suppose it's good for a laugh the way Chat Roulette was back in the day, I seriously doubt you will find your future spouse on Tinder but it can be flattering (or depressing) to find how many people "match" you...and what the hell maybe some night you'll be bored at home cruising Tinder and a beautiful 19 year old Persian will say yes...and then what do you know SHE initiates the conversation, and SHE happens to be at her parent's beach house in Malibu and is having a few friends over...do you want to come?

Ok so it's a fucking long shot...but it's better than playing Doodle Jump...and besides, is a dry handjob at Lookout Mountain really the worst thing in the world?