Tag Archives: how to

How to Write an Online Dating Profile

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I think we can all agree that I’m a magical human being who has not only managed to land a husband and a fake boyfriend (real Dave, I mean real), but who is also an expert in everything from open heart surgery to fixing your broken lap top (the trick is to jump on it and then throw it out the window).  But today I want to help you with what I do best besides manufacturing home made soap from leftover toothpaste and Matt’s tears as well as designing and distributing a garishly provocative line of watches featuring naked pictures of drunken mole rats to various members of my extended family (don’t think you can get out of owning one Uncle Ted.  Aunt Bernice gave me your new address.  I’ve been out here on your front stoop for hours!  You have to come home some time!!): online dating profiles.

The key to the online dating profile is to make sure everyone knows how much better you are than them at everything.  This also stands true when it comes to pretty much everything else in life including but not limited to bob sledding, macrameing your husband’s college diploma to his computer screen when he asks you to stop practicing your roundhouse kicks next to his car and your ability to start a pretend relationship with a cast member of one of the most respected television programs the American public has ever had the privilege of viewing.  So without further ado, online dating profiles.  Let’s dance, bitch.

How to Write an Online Dating Profile

Picture of a girl with dark hair.

Axes or no axes? That is the question.

1.  Start with the picture.  Your picture should be somewhere between “convicted axe murderer” and “not convicted axe murderer.”  Right now you’re looking at my picture thinking “Hmm…should I get her an axe for her birthday or would that be a really bad idea?”  Nailed it.  Also, throw in an awkward background setting like a bathroom (personal favorite) or the hospital waiting room right before your sister’s c-section.  People like to know you’re a real person with a camera in your phone that’s liable to go off at a moment’s notice even though your uncle didn’t want to invite you to his colonoscopy in the first place (just take the damn watch Ted!!).  Oh and for my birthday feel free to buy me an uncle who knows what’s good for him and/or a blender.  I really love blenders.

2.  Your name.  What?  You really thought you were going to type in your REAL name?  Oh my, somebody’s named Dave Coulier and he’s about to get all weepy because he just realized using his real name on an online dating profile is uber lame-o and I may or may not have sold his cat to buy a blender.  Come on, guys.  Let’s get creative here.  Would you rather date a Ben Johnson or a Woodchuck Firelog??  Exactly.  Ben Johnson may have a “car” and a “job” and doesn’t look like an “axe murderer,” but he also doesn’t have a tattoo of an ancient Chinese symbol on his lower back or does that cute little thing where he calls you “hey tits face!”  I rest my case.

3.  Tell your prospective dates who you really are in that way that sounds like you’re not bragging but everyone knows you’re bragging and if they were any where near your car they would have already keyed their initials in it and taken that stupid smiley face ball you keep on your antenna and sent it back to you all torn up in a dirty envelope.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  I just really love using that damn blender.  And keying cars.

4.  Be honest about what you want from the relationship especially if it involves late night trips to toilet paper your ex’s house and/or eating a shit ton of slim jims right before going sky diving.  Both of these things say “living in the moment” and if getting arrested at 3 a.m. in your ex’s front yard (that he never mows, Brian!!) and vomiting mid-air isn’t living then I don’t want to know what is.  Unless it involves blenders.

5.  If someone finds your profile and is interested in you (congratulations!  You’re almost as attractive as me!), be sure to write an introductory email acknowledging their existence and find out where they stand on important issues like Alf, Skechers Shape Ups, keying cars, my husband half naked in a sombrero, aspercreme, silly babies, rabid giraffes and the state of our economy.  Also, blenders.

There you have it, folks.  An easy way to meet someone who has the same level of axe murdery face as you do and who doesn’t mind leaving your ex’s refrigerator open all night (lock your stupid doors, Brian!!).  If for some reason you find potential dates are turned off by your profile send them my way.  I have more than enough drunken naked mole rat watches to go around.  Hear that Ted?  I don’t need you!!!

How Not to Write a Query Letter

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When I’m not being awesome at marriage and then posting about it on my husband’s Facebook page so his ex-girlfriends can be jealous about the way I look pretty much exactly like Kate Beckinsale if you squint your eyes and look slightly to the left, I like to spend my time writing, reading, eating, imbibing and making sure my daughter doesn’t cut out circles where my boobies should go in all my shirts.  I do pretty well when it comes to all my hobbies except for that one shirt she got a hold of without my realizing it (was that a crazy parent/teacher conference!  And Miss Simons, my eyes are up here…).  But lets focus on my one true love: writing.  Whenever you write a novel and it’s nicely edited and revised and only twenty-seven people who have read it have called the police, then its time to query it.  All over the Internet you’ll find articles on how to write a query letter as well as cute pictures of kittens wishing they “haz cheeseburgerz” so I thought I’d post a picture of a cat who actually “haz pizzazzz” and tell you how NOT to write a query letter.

A picture of a cat that, and I quote, "haz pizzazz."

So query letters. Let’s dance.

HOW NOT TO WRITE A QUERY LETTER

You’ll find a ton of helpful information on the interwebs about how to do things the right way, which I find unfair to everything that’s done the wrong way, so I’ve decided to break down the wrong way to write a query letter. You can trust me. I’ve had tons of practice.

Dear Sir, Madam or Harold (I don’t know…you look like a Harold),

When Abby Abberson decides to go shopping one day, she ends up accidentally buying two pairs of shoes and when she gets home there’s a half-naked man in her bed.

Words: 12 Genre: Paper napkin.

Sex Shoes is an autobiographical account of my weekend in the Berkshires visiting my Aunt Beryl, except I bought a tube of Aspercreme instead of the shoes. And instead of a half-naked man in my bed it was a leftover Cheeto from the night before. Don’t judge.

I think you should publish my novel because Abby Abberson represents the majority of American women who believe they should be able to enjoy a peaceful night at home with a pair of shoes (or two!), a half-naked man named Chester (get it), a few delightfully neon colored snacks, and a joint cream without their toothless aunts nosing into their business (to be fair it’s only the one tooth but it’s in the middle of her mouth and she’s named the vacant hole “Harriet.” Who the frack names a hole, Harold? Who??).

Anyhoozle, let me give you my stats so you can now see how legit I am at this whole writing business. I worked at the Dairy Queen from the ages of fourteen to seventeen and then that one year when I was thirty-seven, and I donated all my money to my boyfriend’s “I don’t wanna get off this couch” fund. Not tax-deductible as I later learned. *Shrug* I’ve entered numerous writing contests under the pen name “Hugh Pecker” and I currently own a wildly unpopular see through t-shirt business called “Teezers.”

As you can see I know lots of stuff about men, questionable clothing and dairy products, hence I think we can both agree Sex Shoes would be a perfect candidate for Oprah’s Book Club. She’s still doing that right? If not, just ignore this query.

Sincerely,

Ericka Clay

P.S. – When you’re done with the napkin please mail it back. Beryl thinks buying napkins is the devil’s work.

There you go.  So when you’re finished with that glorious piece of hastily written dreck for NaNoWriMo, you’ll know exactly how not to send it out to agents who steal your napkins via certified mail.  Good luck to you all and to all a goodnight.  Wait, it’s only 8:35 a.m. on a workday?  Fuck.

I won’t be posting my fiction on Friday for Red Writing Hood because we’re going on a ten hour trip to spend Thanksgiving in a dry county.  I’m sorry, I have to go.  My keyboard is short circuiting from all the tears. 

How to Make Men Think You’re Attractive

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Picture of a girl sitting on grass, wearing sunglasses.

Me, just sitting in a parking lot, waiting for a butt load of guys to “get with this.” Or as I like to call it: “every day.”

Step one: be me.  Hahaha, no that’s not all the way accurate even though it very much is.  But there are still ways you can be attractive to men even if you didn’t rip through my mother’s abdomen as a newborn and then proceed to hold up a finger when she wanted to swaddle you because you were still reading your infant sized copy of David Sedaris’ When You Are Engulfed in Flames.  (She was a tad put out by that, but let’s face it: her daughter harbors an inexplicably rageous hatred for any shoe other than Skechers Shape Ups and is the proud owner of a working email account, so I think we can all agree I turned out just fine.)

This “how-to” post was inspired by the uber hilarious Becca at 25ToFly who has been relying on her devastating good looks and charming personality to win men over.  Ameteur.  Right now I’m going to pull out the big guns to show all you single ladies out there how to really land a man who can never find the extra toilet paper and once accidentally sent a naughty text to my grandmother.  (You’ll get your cellphone back when I say so, Matthew.)

So without further ado…How to Make Men Think You’re Attractive:

  1. Men like it when you’re not trying.  So don’t.  You know how he says things like “You really shouldn’t wear makeup.  You’d be just as beautiful without it”?  Prove him wrong.
  2. Men like it when you take a vested interest in things they like.  If he likes football?  Dress like a football.  If he likes hockey?  Buy a hockey stick and practice your moves near his car.  If he likes bean and cheese burritos?  Eat ten of them during his cousin’s christening.  He’ll never make that mistake again!
  3. Sometimes men say things like “Dude, why did you just snip off some of my hair?  Not cool.”  Just laugh and wave the scissors around your head in a jovial fashion.  They’ll admire your childlike sense of wonder.
  4. Sometimes men need your help, and when you help them they think things like “I would totally give up having sex with random women to be the father of her children.”  I’ve been known to do things like wash my man’s car and iron his shirts.  Sure, the soap turned out to be paint thinner and nobody told me you can’t iron clothes with a lit match but details aren’t what make you attractive.  Nakedness is.
  5. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  That’s why putting sleeping pills in his food is a good idea for two very important reasons: 1) He’ll forget how much your cooking tastes like a roasted foot.  2) You can Instragram pictures of the two of you “snuggling” then accidentally send one to Melanie Haberkorn who in the sixth grade said no boy would ever snuggle with you even if he were comatose.  Showed that skank!
  6. Dancing is an art form all men appreciate.  It’s important to reveal your moves at the perfect time like when his parents invite you over for dinner or when he’s crying because his cat ran away.  Let your gyrations wipe his tears.
  7. Change your name to Gertrude.  It will remind him of the great aunt he was very close to.  Don’t forget to offer him a handful of Werther’s Original stuck in a used Kleenex whenever he calls you by name.
  8. Buy and wear copious amounts of underwear.  Men like underwear so much because they’re incredibly fearful of accidentally seeing their mothers naked.  You can trust me on this.  I have a doctorate in psychology.  Actually it’s just a regular degree in creative writing, but I still force my husband to call me Dr. Ericka.  I call him Toodles.
  9. Showering should be optional and yoga pants are an aphrodisiac.  Men like knowing you claim a scent that hasn’t been funneled into a plastic bottle at Bath and Body Works and yoga pants just scream “I’m so comfortable, I think I’m going to do you later!!”  You’re not, but he doesn’t need to know that.
  10. Tattooing your initials on someone after they’ve eaten a plate of sleepy food is not a crime as long as it’s done in a place that’s not entirely visible.  Two words: butt cheeks.  Two other words: rabid giraffes.

What’s that?  You’re already married and you’ve only gotten to step number three??  Damn right you are!  It just takes a little underwear and a little crushed up ambien to ensure a lifetime of happiness with a man who accidentally sent a naked photo of himself to your sister.  (Ten more months, Matthew.  Ten more months.)

How do you attract guys or girls or both or giraffes?

*Be sure to stop by Black Box Warnings today to learn a little more about my struggle with social anxiety and depression.  It’s in no way funny, but in every way true.  Sorry about being a downer all of a sudden.  Poop on a stick.  That’s better.  

How to Write a Book

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I love how-to posts like ones that teach me how to make a blog button, or fashion a pair of crotchless panties from floss and a handkerchief or the best way to punch myself in the teeth.  So I figured it’s practically my duty to teach you folks something that I do best: novel writing.

Be sure to follow these steps in order to create a 350-400 page albatross you can lovingly wear around your neck:

  1. Go to a coffee shop to write.  And make sure everyone knows you’re going to a coffee shop to write.  Be sure to type “stopping by the coffee shop to add a few pages to my novel” as your Twitter and Facebook statuses.  Casually mention you’re in a big hurry and simply must use the five items or less lane at the grocery store because the coffee shop is closing in an hour and you probably don’t even have enough time to flesh out chapter five as it is.  And if at all possible, wear a t-shirt that says “I’d rather be writing at the coffee shop.”
  2. Speaking of clothing, you might want to burn everything you own now and start over with a completely new wardrobe.  I enjoy wearing a pair of thick framed glasses and donning a knitted scarf.  The scarf comes in handy because it not only soaks up summertime sweat but it also says things like “I am more important than you because I’m writing a novel.  What are you doing besides raising kids and performing heart surgery?” and “MFA programs be damned, I’ll publish this baby completely uneducated, thankyouverymuch.”
  3. When you arrive at the coffee shop (and you will arrive at the coffee shop.  In fact, you’ll know the know the route to the coffee shop by heart and will have to set up a security system in your home to keep you from sleep driving there at night) be sure to take out your cell phone and call your deaf grandmother or the operator.  Be sure to mention the plot device you’re toying with and why Aiden’s character development in chapter seven is taking you for a loop.  You might be tempted to only pretend you’re talking on the phone but don’t.  The phone will most certainly ring if you do.
  4. Cry at random intervals.
  5. Order lattes with triple shots of espresso and when the barista mentions it’s practically illegal to sell something with that much caffeine in it, say “It’s okay.  I’m a novelist.”
  6. Stretch every twenty minutes and be sure to swivel your lap top around so that everyone can capture a glimpse of your word document painted in courier new.
  7. Carry a ginormous notebook with a cover page on the outside that reads “blah blah blah: the novel.”  Fill the notebook with printed addresses, menus of your favorite restaurants, a list of people you’d enjoy beating with a giant stick of salami.  Be creative here.
  8. “Accidentally” send out an email to a group of five or seventy of your closest friends that captures the correspondence between you and an imaginary agent who just loves your work.  Send out a follow up email letting your friends know that you’re embarrassed by your little faux pax but are hoping to “share some exciting news really soon.”
  9. Make sacrifices to the gods.
  10. Take up an unseemly habit like drinking or smoking too much (preferably both) and quote memorized lines from authors who died from cirrhosis of the liver or depression (preferably both) when your best friend has broken up with her boyfriend.  She’ll appreciate it.
  11. Don’t edit.  Ever.

This should pretty much do it.  It’s been my system thus far, and all I know is that a few agents (I won’t name names.  but I want to) think my work is pretty stellar.  I mean they don’t want to publish it right now but that’s only because they’re busy and their kids have school and they don’t want their wives to catch on so it’s probably better if we enjoy my work in private together.

But I’m still holding out hope that good things will happen one of these days.  In the mean time I’m stocking up on scarves.

How do you write a book?