More than you ever wanted to know.

So.  A few weeks ago, I applied to win a date with a man who owns several restaurants.  The deal was, he'd take the winner out to one of his restaurants and then go to see a taping of Rachael Ray.  Applicants were to explain why they thought they deserved such a date.  I applied.  Because, I mean...why not?  I did not win, friends.  I know you are shocked.  Shocked and chagrined.  I am telling myself it's just because they ended up drawing names from a hat.  At any rate, this is my application.  I am sharing it with you now because...why not?

First of all, I realize the assignment is to tell you why I want to go, not why you should want me to go.  But what kind of terrible marketing would THAT be?  Let me tell you, the salesmen who suck me in are not the ones who say, “Buy this car so I can win Salesman of the Year and get a trip to Hawaii.” The successful ones are those who say, “You need this car like a cowboy needs a belt buckle as big as his head.”  You know what I’m saying?  But then again, you’re requesting applications for a date.  OBVIOUSLY you know what I’m saying.  So.  I’m going to tell you why YOU should want me to go, not why I want to go.

Here’s why I’d make a great date:

I appreciate good food...I like to cook it; I like to eat it.  But I don’t appreciate it in quite the same WAY Rachael does.  I can’t roll my eyes as far back into my head as she does when she bites into something she’s cooked, for example.  But I’m ok with that, because my mother always told me that if I did that, my eyes would get stuck that way.   And who am I going to trust, some woman on the Food Network or some woman who went through 11 months of pregnancy followed by 37 hours of unmedicated labor to bring me into this world?  That’s right: Mama always wins.  And that’s because Mama’s got a mean right hook.

You will find it easy to impress me with your knowledge of current events.  This is because I live under a rock.  (No, I don’t mean that literally.) (Not that there’s anything wrong with rock-dwellers.)  (It’s just that I really, really like indoor plumbing.)  As I was saying.  My knowledge of America’s stars ends with the era of Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton.  After that, I found it too painful to continue to pay attention.  I understand those two have been supplanted by some more women called the Kardashians.  They are sisters, I believe.  Or possibly there is a whole tribe of women called the Kardashians.  Possibly there is an entire race of creatures called Kardashains on Star Trek, if that show is even still on the air.  I am not sure.   See how easy it will be to impress me?  Like shooting fish in a barrel. 

I won’t stalk you afterward.  Now, you’d like to think that goes without saying, wouldn’t you?  But then again, you are soliciting applications from members of the General Public.  And if there’s anything I know about members of the General Public, it’s that most of them are Grade-A Crazy.  I’m a little crazy, but in that “take your shoes off and run through the sprinkler” kind of way, not in that “make a shank from a toothbrush handle and run from the cops” kind of way.  It’s a subtle but important distinction.

I have sweet moves.  Not those kinds of moves.  Get your mind out of the gutter.  This is a family-friendly application.  No, I have the kind of sweet moves that once allowed me to drive halfway to work with an aluminum pie pan full of cinnamon rolls on the hood of my car.  That’s right: my hood.  Not my roof.  Or my trunk.  But my hood.  They arrived intact and still delicious.  This tells you two things about me.  The first is that I may be slow, but I’m also smooth.  The other is that I am fairly oblivious to what is happening around me (see also “current events”).  Both of these attributes can work in your favor if you let them.

I won’t correct your grammar.  I feel the need to say this because I am currently an editor and was at one time a high school English teacher.  When I tell people these things about myself, they immediately ask me not to judge their writing or speaking.  Of course, you probably don’t even need this disclaimer.  I am sure you have very nice grammar, the kind of grammar that calls its mother every Sunday and sends thank-you notes promptly.  But I needed to say it anyway.

What I lack in culinary skill, I make up for in culinary knowledge.  This is because I read cookbooks to calm down when I am stressed out.  (Yes, really.  Stop looking at me like that.)  I read them like novels, cover to cover, marking the ones I’d like to make.  I even read the conversion and substitution charts.  This little habit has resulted in my knowing scads of information that is virtually useless in everyday life.  I’m like an iPhone app.  Only crankier.  I’m not sure how this makes me a great date, but I am including it on account of You Just Never Know.