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I was all set to run with a friendly evening warning from Ron Paul about the dangers of government during and after the dangers of a storm or disaster. See: Paul says Gubmint Bad!

True. But not as interesting as the following:

When it comes to internet or app dating I usually think about dullness, crazies, tubbies, has beens, and maybe the occasional serial killer. From now on I’ll think about this: Man’s Tinder date gets stuck upside-down in window trying to grab her own poo. Hmmmm…

Who says romance is dead? A Tinder date ended with the unforgettable spectacle of a young woman stuck upside-down in a window, trying to grab her own poo.

The unnamed – but athletic – girl ended up upside down inside the window after making a valiant effort to get rid of a massive poo she’d done which had blocked the bog.

Why not just break it up with the toilet brush, like any sane person?

The unnamed girl had been for a romantic meal at Nando’s with student Liam Smyth, 24, before they went back to his place for a nightcap.

But a bizarre chain of events unfolded after she went to the toilet and blocked the pan.

In panic, she picked up the stool and threw it out the window – but it fell down into a narrow gap.

I’m Perrin Lovett and I say romance is dead. Dead or going down the toilet. I really can’t tell. Is it swipe right or wipe right?

Epic poo problem

Not the gymnastics I like out of a girl… A sad corner of the interwebs.

The poor poo-chaser accomplished the dirty job but got stuck in the window. She was retrieved by firemen. The window was smashed. The date went on – I suppose.

So, is this sort of thing that one places on a dating “profile?” “Acrobatic dung disposal maven….” “My heart and toilet overflow….” “Looking for Mr. Plumber…” “Don’t call me. I’ll call… Call the fire brigade!” “Let’s poo this again…”


Plenty of Crap


I have never been on or used any electronic dating service. And, with this story, that isn’t likely to change.

I kind of understand the allure of these sites. After my divorce I waited a while then ventured into the “real” dating world. Or, should I say, ventured into some strange alien planet. What the hell happened to you people while I was out?!

Nine tattoos, three psychotropic drugs, three convictions, and two kids/live-in exes/cats/whatever (all by 23!) isn’t exactly what I’m looking for in a woman. The good news (ha!) is that I seem to be a crazy magnet and the pool has gone utterly insane. The bad news (yeah) is that I seem to be a crazy magnet and the pool has gone utterly insane. I see a quality, not quantity, problem.

Things like Tinder seem to me just a virtual reality version of the nut house/bar scene – but maybe worse.

That’s my first defense against on-line “love”: I don’t need it. I have no shortage of available options (usually hot, almost always loony); it’s just a matter of my … tolerance.

Second, I’m a Sigma (just found out about that designation!). We cause problems but we never have problems. Okay, we have them – we just don’t care.

Lastly … did you read the freak show story above!?

“How’d the date go? Get to second base? Third? All the way?!!!”

“Naaah. We got stuck in the toilet under the stands. Fire department came. No biggie. Got her number.”

You can keep this big steaming pile of dung. A literal, actual pile of …

Now, please tell me YOUR success story with (fill in the blank) service! How the picture was only 15 years and 40 pounds out of date. How she only turned out to be a he once. How you only got stabbed that one time. Stuff like that. Go on…