A journey in ridiculousness...

"Excuse me. But I believe you are in fact my soulmate. Would you like to step into the travel section and discuss china patterns?"

Hmmm. Still doesn't sound right. Perhaps the travel section is the wrong location. Maybe biography sounds more appropriate? Or maybe I should forego Barnes & Noble altogether. Huh.

Ah the brain workout that occurs when trying to plan a Saturday morning.

As far as conversations with my best friend Lauren go, ridiculousness is paramount. Henceforth the debate of how I should spend the hour between my haircut and second appointment at Bayshore Saturday.

For the past couple months I've been throwing rocks at Lauren's single box and prodding her to take herself on a date in hopes of her meeting a tall, dark and handsome stranger who will buy her coffee and then a puppy and eventually a huge diamond ring. A meet cute. Serendipity. Kismet.

Those sorts of things don't happen in the online dating world. Which is why I've been trying to arrange a similar meet cute in my own life every weekend. Turns out fish fries are not the best way to go.

Given my hour to kill (although ungodly...I'm not sure how many single, attractive guys wander an outdoor mall in Wisconsin between the hours of 10 and 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning when most normal human beings would either be sleeping or at least somewhere warm) it was Miss Lauren's turn to throw the rocks back.

And when Lauren tells you to do something. You do it.

And I like to think I did it so well that I'll be writing a how to book on scoring a man by taking yourself on a date by the end of the month. So went the creation of a ridiculous game plan.

Step 1: Location, location, location

For the most part I come off looking like Neve Campbell from the Scream movies when in a coffee shop alone. My face gets all scrunched up in positions that ensure my need for botox injections in 20 years. My eyes dart from left to right as if the barista has every intention of spiking my chai with roofies and then cutting me up into little pieces with stir sticks.

** Shudder **

Travel section of Barnes & Noble it is then. To ensure I call attention to myself, I will steal one of the tiny wooden stools from the kids section and camp out looking at oversized maps of Moldova, sipping a hot chocolate and downing pounds of gummi bears. Perhaps I will also invest in a traveling Billy Bass so that every time someone happens upon me they will be greeted with a singing fish.

That's definitely better than any old pick up line.

Step 2: The Cheat Sheet

With a limited time to win hearts with my singing fish, I must know exactly what I am looking for. Therefore, pasted in my map of Moldova (so that everyone thinks I actually truly care about the location of Lapushna), I shall have the following gents for reference points.

-- Mayor Barrett (for height)
-- Jonathan Rhys Meyers (for intense eyes)
-- Anderson Cooper (for brains and well-dressed sensibilities)
-- Hugh Grant (hair has never looked so well)
-- Dane Cook (for general hilariousness)
-- Old Yeller (for kick butt companionship abilities)

Step 3: Pick up Lines

It must be quick. It must be witty. It must get straight to the point. By the time I've secured my stolen stool and popped the batteries in Billy Bass, I'll likely only have 48 minutes to kill. They must be used for the fullest potential.

"Will you be my Henry VIII?"

Nah. I'm not really into the whole decapitation and have six wives thing.

"Where'd you get your clothes...from the toilet store?"

Ugh. Too early for insults. He might steal my gummi bears.

"My friend told me to come and meet you, he said that you are a really nice person. I think you know him. Jesus, yeah, that's his name."

Crap. That only works on Catholic Mingle. Not in real life.

>> Update: Monday morning, officially two days after the great find a date game plan:

Apparently gummi bears and a map of Moldova aren't the greatest strategy to finding a date. I'll scratch that and fish fries off my list of manhunting activities.

Next weekend's activity that will hopefully lead to finding a nice Catholic man in real life (as in not online):

Iowa.