I'm totally writing the next 50 Shades of Grey.

I leave for university in three days. THREE DAYS. Considering the fact that I’ve taken naps which exceeded that amount of time, it’s safe to say that I’m currently under about as much stress as a minivan used to transport a support group for the morbidly obese. Since I’m still at the stage where putting off packing seems like an okay thing to do (it’s totally not, but I’m over it), I’ve spent the last few days doing what I do best: procrastinating by watching shit like America’s Next Top Model, drinking a lot of caffeinated beverages and painting my nails. But I’ve tossed something else into the mix in an attempt to have a hip topic to discuss whilst meeting my new university peeps (lord knows I’ll need the help considering the fact that I just used “hip”, “whilst” and “peeps” in the same sentence): I’ve started reading 50 Shades of Grey. If you seriously don’t know what 50 Shades of Grey is by now, please remove your head from your ass and go look it up on Amazon. I’m not explaining what it is because I already had to deal with the trauma of purchasing it from an elderly cashier at Indigo and I really don’t want to relive the judgement. Anyways, I’m not that far into the book, but I’ve read enough to reach the conclusion that I could TOTALLY write this shit! If you weren’t already aware of this, I make a whole lot of terrible, corny jokes, and since 50 Shades of Grey is 90% cheesy pick-up lines (the other 10% being food porn, mild alcohol abuse and strongly worded emails) I figure I’ve got what it takes to pen the next big erotica romantic bestseller. I realize that in order for my novel to become wildly successful and make me immense amounts of money, I’m going to need to strike while the metaphorical iron is still hot and start it ASAP. I’ve already drafted a list of preliminary ideas in the form of puntastic synopses. They’re all pretty damn good if you ask me, but I’ll let you be the judge. Read on!

•50 Shades of Clay: A famous sculptor and his young prodigy embark on a romance far more heated than any kiln. She came to learn the art of pottery. She ended up learning so much more.
•50 Shades of Hay: A rancher’s daughter and a lowly stablehand begin a torrid love affair behind barn doors. But will he be able to “reign” her in for good? Giddy up, indeed.
•50 Shades of Cray: Two dangerous patients in an insane asylum meet while waiting for frontal lobotomies and discover a spark that no electroshock treatment could ever replicate and no straitjacket could ever restrain.
•50 Shades of Flay: Two budding culinary students must cope with the stress of working under Iron Chef Bobby Flay. You know what they say: If you can’t handle the heat, have sex in the kitchen.
•50 Shades of Whey (Protein): Two bodybuilders find themselves drawn to each other’s primal grunts and profuse amounts of sweat while occupying the same weight room. Will their hearts prove to be their strongest muscles of all, or will their training prove to be futile?
•50 Shades of Sleigh: The North Pole can get pretty cold during the other eleven months of the year. Santa and Mrs. Clause have to stay warm somehow…
•50 Shades of Tupee: Something involving Donald Trump. I haven’t hammered out the finer details yet.
•50 Shades of Billy Ray: A mulleted country star relies upon an underaged white-trash groupie to mend his achey breakey heart. When the trailers a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking
•50 Shades of Filet: An epic romance starring that one chick from Ni**as In Paris who orders the fish filet. Or two people in a fishing village, once again I haven’t worked out the finer details.
•50 Shades of Kay: Rival jewellers embark on an intense quest to run each other out of business, but soon find themselves engulfed in the throes of passion. They say every kiss begins with Kay. So do some other things.
•50 Shades of Eh: Two Mounties in the Canadian Rockies must work together to capture a moose poacher with a diabolical plan to deprive the nation of maple syrup. What happens in the Great White North, stays in the Great White North.
•50 Shades of LOL JK: Two internet trolls meet after simultaneously invoking Rule 34 in a Doctor Who forum. Will they end up a living testament to Rule 63, or will they be #ForeverAlone?
•50 Shades of Heyyyy: It started with a sloppy drunk text. It ended with a love story for the ages.
•50 Shades of Oy Vey: Rumor has it that Mordecai Goldenberg is pretty fly for a rabbi. This Hanukkah, he’s setting out to prove that statement very, very right.

You’re totally itching to get your hands on those books right now aren’t you? I have a way with literature, I know. But unfortunately you’re going to have to wait until I snag a publishing deal with Oprah, I’m sorry to disappoint. If it’s any consolation I’ll totally sign your copies with a heart or an eagle or something badass like that next to my name to make them special and catch you more money when you inevitably sell them on eBay. Anyways I must be off, I have a bestseller to write. I’ll try to remember you little people when I’m famous!

You date like you drink.

I’ve always fancied myself to be a bit of a matchmaker. It all started back in grade three when I passed a Crayola-artwork-adorned love note from one of my friends to the object of her affections. The two went on to have a lasting relationship of three whole days and even almost held hands at one point, so I think it’s safe to say that I helped them find true love. Admittedly, I haven’t really been on my matchmaker A-game since those fateful days, but it’s totally not because I’m bad at it or anything; I’ve just been taking a brief ten year hiatus to hone my skills. And I think it’s paying off: whenever I watch Millionaire Matchmaker on Slice, I ALWAYS call whether or not the couple’s dream date will result in a successful relationship within the first five minutes. If that doesn’t scream “expert!” to you, then you probably have something wrong with your ears and should really see a doctor. Anyways, while on a recent Millionaire Matchmaker bender, I realized that the majority of the places people go in order to meet potential luvas as well as the majority of the places people take said luvas on dates have one thing in common: alcohol. “EUREKA!” I cried, frightening my elderly dog and both of my parents, for I had just had an epiphany. If people drink a lot on the dating scene, why not take advantage of that when gauging who’s a suitable mate? After some extremely scientific research and philosophical pondering into the very nature of love, I managed to draft a list that, if taken into careful consideration, pretty much guarantees you’ll be gettin’ some when you leave the bar. The list not only provides brief descriptions of the type of person who generally orders each specific type of drink, but also what kind of drink the member of the opposite sex most suitable to said person would be most inclined to order. So read on, singletons, and prepare to fall in love.

Disclaimer: I used hetero couplings in this because I love members of the LGBTQ community too much to stereotype them based on their drink choices. But I feel straight people are fair game. Let’s be real, we had it coming.

Disclaimer 2: I might have made most of my scientific research up… YOLO?

FEMALES- If she’s drinking…

Beer in a bottle: A laidback, no fuss kinda gal. In rare instances a beer bottle girl may actually know about sports or be able to belch impressively, but I wouldn’t test her on either of those to the point of annoyance because she could probably whoop your ass. Perfect Match: The guy drinking a tall boy.

Beer in a can: She likes the taste of beer and is somewhat low-key, but not low-key enough to risk having a bunch of bottles break in her brand new Kate Spade tote. Perfect Match: The guy drinking whiskey on the rocks.

Beer in a red plastic cup: This girl probably doesn’t actually enjoy drinking beer and most likely got it for free from a guy trying to get in her pants. On the bright side, she’s thrifty. On the not so bright side, she’s clearly not opposed to getting roofied and that’s a slight cause for concern. Perfect Match: The guy drinking wine he stole from his parents.

Wine: If it’s red, in a glass and sipped at slowly, she’s a classy broad with a vast knowledge of 18th century poets or something equally befitting to a well-bred female. If it’s white and sipped a little faster, she’s still somewhat classy, but in more of a “If I take off my top in the hottub I’ll pretend it was an accident” kind of way. If it’s pink and sparkling and she’s downing it from the bottle, she’d like to think she’s classy but will probably end up passing out on the party host’s bathroom floor before midnight. Perfect Match: Depends on the type of wine. (See male descriptions for each wine’s match)

Vodka: Having a vagina and drinking vodka kind of go hand in hand, so it’s a bit hard to judge these girls. Female vodka drinkers can choose any one of a vast bounty of fruit flavoured, cleverly named mixed drinks and thus essentially any chick can find something that floats her metaphorical boat in the world of potato-derived alcohol. However, if she foregoes the mixed drinks in favour of shots, one thing is clear: she’s setting out to get drunk and make some bad decisions. If you’re lucky, you just might be one of them! Then again, so could that creepy guy lurking in the corner wearing an Aquaman t-shirt. Perfect Match: The guy drinking beer out of the bottle.

Rum: Female rum drinkers are generally former vodka drinkers who, after overdoing on more than a few occasions, find themselves overwhelmed with nausea at even the slightest mention of the USSR or any words that end with -off. With this in mind, a rum drinker may very well be a binge drinking wild child, but a binge drinking wild child who’s slowly on the way to reform. Perfect Match: The guy drinking vodka.

Whiskey: Two words. Daddy. Issues. Perfect Match: The guy drinking beer out of a red plastic cup.

Tequila: A tequila-drinking girl loves to have herself a good time. She’ll probably flirt with you ruthlessly as she does shots and promise you a good time, but if you take her home with you there’s a 50/50 chance that she’ll end up throwing up on herself at some point and spend the rest of the night crying. Perfect Match: The guy drinking Jagermeister.

Smirnoff Ice/Mike’s Hard Lemonade/Bacardi Breezers: She’s too young for you, bro. Perfect Match: The guy drinking Four Loko.

Gin: I’m like 90% sure that no one drinks gin… Hipsters maybe? Yeah. Let’s go with that. Perfect Match: The guy drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and wearing flannel.

Cristal: She’s either dating Drake or Kanye West. Perfect Match: Either Drake or Kanye West.

MALES- If he’s drinking…

Beer in a bottle: Beer is to males as vodka is to females. As far as bottles go, they’re equivalent to the classic fruity mixed drink that every girl is down with. This guy could be anybody. Perfect Match: The girl drinking a fruity mixed drink.

Beer in a can: A real guys’ guy who probably enjoys shotgunning, funnelling and doing manly things, but will proudly proclaim “I love you, man” to one of his bros while drunk and maybe even tear up a bit in the process. Perfect Match: The girl drinking beer from a bottle or can.

Beer in a red plastic cup: He’ll probably get drunk enough to break several valuable objects and yell a lot of sexist remarks. He also sees nothing wrong with frats. Gross. Perfect Match: The girl drinking whiskey (Daddy. Issues.)

Wine: There are two possibilities here. If it’s a one-time thing where he bought the wine because it was on sale, stole it from his parents or was given it as a gift, he enjoys saving money. If he actually likes it and drinks it frequently, he probably owns multiple blazers and/or turtlenecks and has a penchant for quoting Chaucer. Perfect Match: If he’s the first kind, the girl drinking beer out of a red plastic cup. If he’s the second, the girl drinking red wine out of an actual glass.

Vodka: Whether he be straight, gay or anything in between, he’s comfortable enough in his sexuality to drink what is often classified as a “bitch drink” in order to get drunk without having to ingest something that tastes like death. Kudos, man. Perfect Match: The girl drinking rum.

Rum: He might secretly be a pirate. I’m (almost) kidding. Perfect Match: The girl drinking white wine.

Jagermeister: You don’t drink Jager to get a little buzz on. You drink that shit to get belligerent. A Jager-drinker will get drunk to the point of becoming really red, stumbling around and throwing up in weird locations that they think are hidden, but will deny that they’re actually drunk until they’re in bed with a bottle of Gatorade the morning after. Perfect Match: The girl doing tequila shots.

Whiskey: This dude probably enjoys country music and owns at least one shirt with the sleeves cut off. He likes to think of himself as a modern-day cowboy, yet is incapable of riding a horse. Perfect Match: The girl drinking pink sparkling wine out of the bottle.

Four Loko: He’s too young for you, gurl. Perfect Match: The girl drinking Smirnoff Ice/Mike’s Hard Lemonade/Bacardi Breezers.

Gin: I still can’t think of a group of people who actually drink gin so I’m just going to go with hipsters again. Perfect Match: The girl wearing thick rimmed glasses and an “ironic” t-shirt.

Cristal: He’s either Drake or Kanye West. Perfect Match: Big booty bitches.

So next time you leave your house with the intention of combining romantic interactions and heavy drinking, I advise that you keep this list handy. It’s totally basically kind of almost not really guaranteed that you’ll find your soulmate. And hey, even if you don’t, just have a couple shots and I’m sure you’ll feel better. Cause drinking totally solves everything, right? … Uhh here’s this just in case: http://www.aa.org/?Media=PlayFlash