Everything was going perfectly for Jim LaFontaine. The former programmer for YouTube and avid computer gamer had picked up his date from her apartment and treated her to a fancy dinner at her favorite restaurant, Artista. By the time the check was dropped off, he was sure that the two of them would be having mindblowing sex later that evening, but all hopes of that happening went out the window with the utterance of three seemingly innocuous letters.

“L O L,” Jim recalled to Hardcasual with a pained look. “She had just told a joke about her grandmother’s funny accent. It wasn’t all that funny, so my reaction was to… you know, second nature. Jesus, you should have seen the look on her face. I might as well have called her grandmother a cunt.”

Jim downed his cocktail and motioned for another before adding, “And you know what? Her grandmother is a cunt! Print that! Not like anybody reads your stupid fucking blog anyway. Where’s my highball? Bartender!”

The disastrous date couldn’t have been at a worse time for Jim, who was recently laid off from his job of seven years and was mourning the death of Banksy, his fifteen-year-old German Shepard, to cancer only days before. Since having the girl of his dreams walk out on him in a crowded restaurant four days ago, the twice-recovered alcoholic hasn’t left his local bar, The Downer.

“I really coulda used some trim, if you know what I mean,” Jim told Hardcasual later that evening, after about eleven drinks and a confrontation with a coat rack. “What a week. I guess… Oh well. I’m gonna go take a bio break real quick. Don’t start the event without me. BRB.”