When I saw that my classy-but-wacky friend Restaurant Refugee had been inspired by my evening with the Jew of Doom to hold a Worst Date Ever contest, I welled up a little. How sweet! But when I saw I was ineligible to compete, I sobbed a river of broken dreams. Then I remembered that I’d get to read funny tales of dates gone awry, and I perked up a little. Then I remembered that being an FOR (Friend of Refugee) was the best prize of all, and I returned to the giggly happy dances.
So, while I’m doing a gringo jig around the reception desk, y’all ought to head over to Refugee’s blog and read all about the contest. Because if you’ve dated someone worse than the Jew of Doom, then you’ve got a fair shot at winning.