Where do I even begin with Chad, AKA Date #3? We have been good friends for three years—ever since he came to my house to decorate gingerbread houses. Our friendship did go through a rough patch after he called me fat and couldn’t lift me onto a buffalo. But it was that incident (and many, many, MANY more since then) that earned him the nicknames “Captain Tact,” “Tactless Chad,” “The Tact Free Zone” . . . you get the idea. He takes the abuse well, which is good, since he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter.
When I first posted on Facebook that I was looking for dates and promising awkward moments, Chad was the first to speak up and ask if he could bring his mom. Serious? Joking? You never know with him.
It seems his mom had other plans that night, so Chad and I ended up on our date alone.
It’s clear that Chad understands me and my love for all things cheeseburger, because we went to Five Guys for dinner. I have to admit that I’m not usually a fan of their fries, but tonight they were soooooo good. Maybe it was the company, or maybe it was the fact that I’ve deprived myself of fries lately, but whatever it was, I’ll take it!
From there, Chad had big plans. Plan #1: hold my hand in an awkward game of chicken, or in this case a game of “who will let go first.” And not that it matters, but I totally won. Although that meant I had to hold Chad’s hand for an extended period of time, so I don’t know if it can really be considered a victory on my part.
Plan #2: Turn four pink flamingos into the perfect Christmas lawn ornaments. Yes, you read that right.
Chad had originally said he wanted to toilet paper someone’s house, but given the snow and cold, we opted to forgo that option. I suggested that I had some pink flamingos (don’t ask) I wanted to use for something fun, and Chad ran with it. You see, Chad is an engineer, and while he claims this is “the dorkiest thing he’s EVER done,” I find that very hard to believe.
Chad had bought red LED lights, wiring, battery packs, and a few transistors (or some type of wire thingy with a knob in the middle—why they don’t just call it that, I’ll never know), and I supplied the flamingos, the batteries, and the mocking commentary.
After a little flamingo filleting and some wiring, we were in business.
Comforting a flamingo in surgery is harder than you think.
Plan #3 involved writing a story about our little flamingo friends. Whatever you do, please don’t judge my skills as a copywriter by this piece of work.
Rango the Red-Nosed Flamingo
You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. But do you recall, the most wonderful flamingo of all?
Rango the red-nosed flamingo. Had a very shiny nose. And if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows. All the flamingo ladies, used to text and call him a lot. They all wanted Rango, because they thought his nose was hot.
Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say, “Rango, with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”
This made the ladies crazy. They cheered and chased him all around. But Rango was just a flamingo, so Santa’s sleigh never left the ground.
Then all the ladies ditched him. They said his nose was filled with snot. Rango felt rejected, the top flamingo he was not.
That’s the story of Rango the red-nosed flamingo. Poor Rango was so embarrassed after “the incident” that he was determined to win back the hearts of the lady flamingos. So every Christmas, Rango travels the globe to find special people on Santa’s nice list. He takes up residence in their yard until Christmas and signals to Santa where to land. So please treat Rango nicely. Feed him twice a day, and make sure his batteries never die. Then, on Christmas Eve, Rango will repay you by guiding Santa’s sleigh to your house.
With the story completed, Plan #4 was to deliver them to unsuspecting neighbors. We opted for the “ring and run” method, although it would have been much more effective if Chad’s car didn’t have a loose belt that loudly warned the neighborhood when we were making our getaway.
Finally, Plan #5 was to go back to my house and end the date the way any good date should end—with a rousing game of Dr. Mario on the Wii.