And We All Shine On

This was originally going to be an open letter about karma, perhaps a tad overly bitter and vindictive one at that. See, I was going to provide concrete examples of karma, like the Weasel Partner back at FirstBigLaw who ruined many an attorney's careers and pulled the whole "if I don't get what I want I'll quit" schtick until FirstBigLaw finally called his bluff and now he's a small fish in a bigger pond who doesn't have enough pull to get his favorite associate hired. Or like BigFuckingLiar Associate who got me involved in a bad sitch just so he could get into the pants of an accounting chick before he left for a gig that paid more, and ended up not getting the accounting chick, going back to the shrieking harridan of his ex and finding out that the new gig was a big old clod of manure hidden beneath the group of red apples. (Like these sentences, karma takes a meandering path.) Then I was going to say to the Professionalgamerchick on match.com*, I'd really hate to be you when karma catches up, what with giving me your number, telling me you're interested in having drinks, and then at the last moment before our first date telling me you met someone who you had actually been e-mailing for the month prior to giving me your number (and who coincidently hadn't asked you out until after I did). Yeah, because treating me like a safety school, using me to get to the other guy and being a pricktease is baaaaaaad mojo.**

But then imagine my surprise when I was surfing for game release dates (damn you Sony, couldn't you have released more than three decent games for the PSP for its rollout?) and happened to come across your name in google as part of a gamer profile. And lo and behold, the profile has all of your match.com photos, and they're all from 1998. And one of the more recent photos on this gamer profile--from 2001 and which isn't on your match.com profile--explains why none of your match.com photos are close-ups. Let's just say I should be thanking you for cancelling.

See, you saved me from accidently calling you Mr. Ed when you let rip that non-close-lipped smile, or wondering why I was sitting in front of Auntie Mao instead of Hello Kitty, and then taking a long hot shower with a brillo pad exfoliant afterwards to scrub away any carnal thoughts I had before I actually saw you in person. Or as my friend Rach put it, "It looks like karma already hit her . . . at birth."

*No, Professionalgamerchick is not her real profile name.
**Yes, I know, we men have done really shitty things as well, and probably the very things I have identified (what's the male version of pricktease, oh never mind). But I note that this entry is not an "all females are manipulative soul-sucking black widows" rant, and anyway, men who do shit like this end up getting their come-uppance--there's a whole tribe of them in Jersey, balding, beer gut like burst bratwurst covered in a beaver-like pelt, smelling like Olympia beer forty-year-olds not able to get within 10 feet of a real woman.