I crash into my apartment Thursday night just after nine armed with a quart of fury, three pounds of hopelessness, and a box of organic cheesecake. That’s the absolute last time I try online dating. Yes, yes, I said the same thing after the clown incident, but I mean it this time. The jackass is lucky a broken nose is all he has—if my brothers had been there, he’d be missing a few fingers and viewing the world through the slit in his butt cheeks. And I left work early for this shit.
