Survey Says . . .

I used to have a mad love for Family Feud.  I would watch it often with a plate of Kraft Singles nachos & scream the answers at the television.  I always thought it was cute how the people would act supportive except when that guy answered ‘turkey’ to ‘something you bring to the beach.’
I’ve decided now, however, that I don’t much like surveys anymore.  I see them in magazines while I’m in line waiting to buy Drano & I wonder how they actually base these statistics on real life.  I’ve never been asked about money, relationships, work or sex.  That’s just what I talk about when gin & tonic meet in my mouth.  There should be a survey about how un-attractive you look to the opposite sex when you start talking about money, relationships, work or sex.
The only time that I have ever related to a survey was one I heard on the radio once about how you could tell if your significant other was cheating on you.  They said that if you asked them something & they repeated it, they were trying to quickly figure out a lie in their head.  This is how the scenario in real life actually went:
Me to my ex-boyfriend – ‘Did you sleep with Boobs Mcgee?’
Ex-boyfriend – ‘Did I sleep with Boobs Mcgee?’
I think shortly thereafter I ripped the door from it’s hinges & threw lots of things around the kitchen.  I wish, though, that the survey would have been more of a helpful list of ‘How to not act completely crazy after you find out.’
My point to this is that none of these things really help.  There wasn’t a survey to help me handle the situation when a guy pulled over to help me fix my car.  When he asked if I needed help I just said, ‘No, I think I got it.”  I should’ve had a survey that told me to say, ‘Oh yes, I have no idea what I’m doing!  I think my something is broken under here.’  Then, we would’ve gone to a diner & talked over coffee about how much I hate cars & how much he hates shaving his awesome sideburns.
I think surveys are just a buffer from the burn of actual life.  And it kind of takes the fun out of it. I don’t have time to think about how my body is positioned towards him, I really need to actually focus on my joke punchlines.  I can’t focus on being able to tell if he’s really into me because I’m actually wondering if 90% of my eggs are going to be dead after I turn 30.  No survey is going to tell me how to keep the mice from shitting in my silverware drawer or why I received a flyer in my mail for a new senior living facility.  It was actually addressed to me & offered me $1,000 off of my first month.  (Let’s not talk about why it costs that much to eat applesauce & watch Wheel of Fortune).  No survey can help me deal with this conversation I just had with the ex.  Let me set it up for you.  He wants to give me a thumb drive with my pictures/music on it:
Ex: ‘I’d like to drop that off at your work.’
Me: ‘Yeah that’s fine, just leave it with someone else.’
Ex: ‘Alright, I love you . . . ‘
Me:  . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ex: ‘Oh God sorry, wrong person.  I’m used to saying that all the time.’
Me: I just hung up at that point because I didn’t even know how to process it.  And I didn’t have a magazine article or a radio station to tell me how to feel.  I just felt it.  I was pissed that he said it, & then I felt my eyelids welling up with saltwater.  I bit my lip really hard & thought about how I ran the clothesline over with a lawnmower when I was younger so that I could deviate from the crying over this walnut, AGAIN.  I just looked at my dog, laying in the front seat next to me & realized, he’s the only guy I need to cry about right now.  I did just that after I got home & he immediately puked on the floor.
So friends, it’s fun to read surveys I guess.  I mean, I guess we’re keeping some people employed by partaking in them.  But if that guy didn’t find you sexy because you just fell off the table you climbed on top of, I bet the guy that picks your ass up will be ok with it.   Somebody will find that really awesome.  In fact, 79% of people asked appreciate when people do stupid shit while everyone else is watching.
Cheers friends,
-a damsel & her dog-

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s