Thursday, October 30, 2008
Come over and explore a patient/doctor fantasy. Come over to my house, and we will do a normal gynicogical exam. I will examine you in a special chair and we will go from there. I have this fantasy for years, very hot Email XXXXXX@. XXX.XXX -Hawk
Occupational fantasies have been around for centuries. Scientists acknowledge pre-historic women often fantasized about sleeping with esteemed tribal firestarters, who probably tired quickly of cavewomen's repeated sexual innuendos regarding his profession. "Yeah, I've never heard that one before," they'd sigh, as another bored and horny cavewoman suggested she knew a place he might want to try and start a fire.
Occupational fantasies continue today. While many men fantasize about sleeping with teachers, nurses or waitresses, women often fantasize about about sleeping with construction workers, police officers or firemen. But gynecologists? Not particularly, which might explain why I still have 60,000 copies of WWHM's The Erect Gynecologist Swimsuit Calendar 2008 collecting dust in my garage. If you'd like to order one today, I'll throw in a jar of cold jelly and a phone shaped like a uterus that gets all emotional and cries when it rings.
Hawk, let me turn the tables on you. Would you answer the following personal ad from a woman?
"Complete stranger would like to come over and scrape the base of your urethra with a Q-Tip."
Maybe I'm asking the wrong guy, but if you can get your dick hard when someone is cyst mining your urethra, you really need to open up and talk about what went on at Bible Camp.
Maybe im just not saying the right stuff in my posts. I wont kill or rape you i swear, just want to make you feel good because as weird as it sounds, there are actually some guys who find great pleasure in making woman feel good just to make the world a better place and dont want to just shoot thier load and dump the bitch To be honest it sickens and insults me at how insensative woman think guys are sometimes. Pael
Hello class! Welcome to WWHM 101, where today we hope to instruct Pael how a woman processes a personal ad.
Right behind a woman's ear lies an absorbent, spongy gland called the GHSP, or goddamn horse shit processor. The GHSP strains and extracts meaningful words and phrases from the virtual spraying shit hose of misinformation, false assurances, and distortions exhibited in men's personal ads. Straining a personal ad is similar to straining a pot of pasta noodles, Pael, only your flaccid penis doesn't haunt our personal space like a fucking boneless ferret hanging from a doorknob.
With the help of my secretary Dolores, I just strained your ad Pael, and her GHSP extracted the words "rape", "kill", "shit" and "bitch." Strangely, it also extracted 450mG of Viagra, a Ronco 3-gear Penis Pump, and a small Scottish boy questioning the whereabouts of his parents.
Dolores' GHSP then sent this information to her cerebral cortex where an appropriate response was formulated- she gouged her eyes out with a spork, threw her ovaries in a fern, took a vow of celibacy, and moved to a remote convent where she now harvests peas and cries herself to sleep at night.
So, yeah Pael, I think you might want to re-think some of the words in your personal ad. But I completely understand how it sickens and insults you that women find men sooooo insensitive. Because you know just what women want: just a grainy photo of your cock, some nauseating discourse, and a generous heaping of blame. That's sensitivity to a woman's needs!
In your next ad, you should offer them a free apron and a vacuum cleaner. That'll get 'em!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Lastly, don't worry about the blog trolls, guys. They don't bother me, and just like FHOTD suggests, if you ignore them they just wither back to their little holes and try to find other ways to get the attention they so desperately seek. I'll tell you right now, WWHM is immature and offensive. If you can't handle it, please don't read it. To the thousands that read it every day, thanks for your support and I love you guys.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
im fresh out of prison so dont be scared.im just a good guy who got caught up and robbed banks.no threat.im looking for a girl who wont be afraid to put it on me!im way horny and looking to wreck something!im on limited time so if there is a WOMAN out there and ur interested!hit me up and im there!! Lee
Ladies, let me tell you how horrible prison is.
Imagine getting powerfully fucked in the shower every day by an endless line of brawny, tattooed, dominant and faceless men who use you only to satiate their deepest and most instinctual sexual desires. It's a nightmare scenario that..... um....ok....... apparently we need a 5 minute break so you can all retrieve your vibrators.
Are you done yet? Geez, I haven't seen that many quivering lips since a hunter shot Bambi's mother.
Women seeking to get fucked like a common barn hen may enjoy a romp with a guy like Lee, who posted a personal ad seeking sex from someone who won't leave stubble burns on his thighs or pay him in Saltines. Lee just got out of prison, and would appreciate an opportunity to finally fuck something that doesn't laugh hysterically at farts. If you're up for the challenge, cover some plums with syrup, roll them in cat hair, and hang them from your uterine sponge. That way when he reaches down to tickle your balls, there won't be a stop in the action.
Lee hasn't seen a pussy in so long, he'd probably play Scrabble with it. The cramped confines of prison walls will do that to a man. Spending 7 years in a crowded and uncomfortable space, eating that horrible food, and dealing with such uncaring, brutal employees- imagine flying United Airlines for seven years, but throw in some confrontational ass-fucking. Thankfully for Lee, prison rarely sends your luggage to Guam and patronizes you with a fucking $5 Bartell's coupon.
Proceed with caution: a guy who hasn't been with a woman in seven years will attack your vagina like a threatened bear. Curlers, grannie panties, or Crocs- no antidote will deny his determination to live in the confines of your Levi's for at least a couple months. At work you'll walk around like you just rode a fat horse from Dallas to Fargo, because a guy fresh out of prison puts more miles on your crotch than Christmas puts on a FedEx truck in northern Manitoba.
And thanks for being honest, Lee, about the bank robberies- for a minute there we were concerned you might have committed some kind of crime or something.
ill let you have all of me as long as you want,, ill be your puppy dog,, figure that one out,, hunny,, send me a note im here for you know!! Edgar
If there's one thing that makes women hornier than your body Edgar, I'd have to say it's Lowe's "Ducks in Autumn" wallpaper motif.
But the open toilet filled with urine ought to juice 'em up just right.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Women adore worshipping my enormous perfect cock, do you want to give it a try? I'm 7+ glorious inches, circumcised, with a long hearty thick shaft, and, nicely shaved balls. I have an enormous cumshot sure to please you. Mine is nice and hard,come suck on my absolutely beautiful, hard, and juicy, cock tonight. David.
Yeah, we get it David. Your breathtaking, blue-ribbon cock is a masterpiece, a gland even more awe-inspiring than a box of kittens with bone cancer singing "The Star Spangled Banner."
We must see to it that your penis is immediately placed on a delicate velvet pillow, enclosed in an airtight oxygen chamber, surrounded by armed guards, and transported to the Chamber of Esteemed Genitalia in Vienna, Austria.
You know ladies, it wasn't always this way.
Like all men, David was once an innocent little boy just like yours, a boy happily willing to exchange everything between his legs for 5 minutes alone with a cheap Japanese talking robot with rotating sirens. Yet David has morphed into a grown man sitting at his computer, scribing an ode to his penis with the same intensity of a modern beat poet sitting on a cliffside, cursing birds for their ability to fly.
How does this awful transformation take place?
When a boy is 6 years of age, his penis merely seems a nuisance, an unsightly weed sprouting from the cracks in the driveway of his body. It pees on his Batman sheets, flops around like an agitated salmon in his Toughskin jeans, and sometimes gets hard and leaks gerbil tears.
But by the age of 11, the testicles foment an uprising against the body. Armed with millions of white-tailed, bleach-flavored soldiers, the oft-neglected penis launches a brutal takeover of the body and quickly establishes an absolute monarchy. The demands? Hustler magazine, constant visual contact with breasts, and all the vaginas you could hope to fit in the Grand Canyon. And then some. For eternity.
So it's not David talking here, it's his cock. Like all men, his cock is shaping his every action and decision. He has no choice.
As he wrote this ad, I'm sure David sat at his computer weeping lightly to himself "Please, cock, don't make me do this," but his words were wasted on pleading to the Master.
"Type it, bitch! G-l-o-r-i-o-u-s!"
So next time a guy says something offensive to you, remember, it's not him. If you need to get the message across to a man, kick him in the fucking balls. Then he'll understand.
(This entry, as are all entries, was written by The Weasel's balls. Which are far more glorious than David's.)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
36 male am intrested in meeting women coming to strip club with me Tue or Wed. I have VIP card and know the girls, not what you think it is. I will pay for dances you pay for drinks, hoping you stroke my balls hard at club or at car. Maybe come home with dancer and share?, If intrested please be disreet, email Tripp XXXX @ XXX.com
A recent study by Cosmopolitan magazine revealed that women are particularly attracted to a man with a sense of adventure. My sister, however, didn't appreciate my "sense of adventure" when she caught me masturbating to her Cosmopolitan magazine. Sorry sis, just let it dry and peel the pages apart like an avocado.
Tripp has a keen sense of adventure, and hopes you'll accompany him to his local strip club by attempting to assure you it's "not what you think it is." So if you think it's just another unemployed vacuum salesman trying to lure you into the backseat of his 1989 Toyota Tercel for a handjob with a Ukranian woman named "Taboo," let me assure you its exactly what you think it is. After all, bragging about owning a strip club VIP card earns you about as much vaginal clout as flashing around your platinum Greyhound bus pass; her pussy will seal so tight, your penis would have better luck penetrating the entry door of a launching lunar vehicle.
On a first date, Tripp, the woman you're with wants you to focus on her, not the Keith Sweat inspired anal gyrations of a woman whose pre-work regimen involves rinsing her fallopian tubes with six quarts of Pussy Dragon perfume and inflating her breasts to 36 psi at the Shell station across the street.
Unfortunately, your suggested date focuses on you and your false sense of adventure, which appears to wholly consist of having your sour-smelling trouser onions juggled in a strip club parking lot like two lone sweatsocks in an industrial towel dryer. Meanwhile, your date is inside contracting a mutant strain of bovine herpes from a $14 plastic cup of watered-down RC Cola. Yeah, Tripp, you're a real Ferdinand fucking Magellan of the dating world.
If you're feeling a little adventurous next time you post a personal ad, why don't you embark on a little sojourn over to your SpellCheck toolbar, you impotent tree baboon. If you'll notice, the only word you spelled correctly was a number, and you didn't even spell the number.
A fine way to ensure any woman that answers your ad will have the IQ of a pre-pubescent houseplant. Which is probably exactly what you're looking for.
Ok, so here's what I've learned from this site so far..... about 90% of the "women" on here are hypocritical, self-absorbed liars.... and at least 99% are sad, sorry little girls barely even old enough to know what a real date is. If there is one thing I can take from this site, it's the knowledge that most of you "women", (yes, I am using quotation marks for a reason) are looking for the same thing... and probably the same thing they just broke up with... Some pretty-boy douchbag with a jacked up truck and white framed sunglasses. Tell you what, just make it easier on yourselves and wear a tight shirt that says "I'm easy, now please take me home and treat me like garbage" Tell the truth. Let guys know that your not looking for "a smart, sesitive guy", or "Mr. right". Tell guys your looking for someone who measure up to whatever man meat is gracing the screen on whatever soap opera your watching while you sit and wallow in your own pool of washed up self-esteem. Or maybe you have and you've already popped out a kid or 4, in which case.... wow. You're on the path for a sad awakening. Chris.
Chris, I'm not saying this ad contains a lot of whine, but half my readers just drunken-dialed their ex-boyfriends and the other half are crying about a dog that died twelve years ago.
Chris is angry because no one responded to his initial personal ad. Which made him post an angrier personal ad, which even fewer women responded to, which led him to post this ad that, ironically, plenty of women are responding to. Unfortunately for Chris, I just assembled those responses into a 1,233 page manuscript titled "A Complete World History of Euphemisms for Needy, Small-Cocked and Desperate Losers," and sold it to Bantam Books for $1.3 million.
Women don't want men with jacked-up trucks and white sunglasses, Chris. If that was true, your insecure ass would be driving down to Sunglass Hut in your new lifted Ford Ranger. But inside that Ford Ranger would be the same hyper-jealous, needy fuckstick that doesn't have any motivation, calls his girlfriend 2,000 times a day to check up on her, can't make a decision for himself, and wants nothing more to spend the rest of his life inside his mother's aging, distended womb. And then you'd complain that women only like guys with tattoos and Porsches.
Here's a clue: most women would like a guy in a 1977 AMC Gremlin carrying a My Pretty Pony lunchpail if only he was a man and not a bitch to wipe the floor with.
What I think you need most is a frosted bear cookie, some warm milk, and a little nappypoo. And many WWHM'ers agree, seeing as how I've gotten this ad 5 times from my readers. That's nearly as many times I've gotten chlamydia from my readers, so readers, please stop sleeping with the WWHM personal ad posters. My season pass to the free clinic expires tomorrow.
If you really feel women are on a path to a sad awakening Chris, then I'm guessing you're already at the destination?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
We have a surprise guest today- Tom!
Normally Tom is busy at the rendering plant next door braining ducks or wading in a vat of congealed sheep testicles, but he came over today to show us his goat milking man-bra. Apparently the goats are still too young to feed into the bone chipper, so he personally nurses them until they're ready to turn into salty meat chunks for the school kids.
See, Tom really cares about the animals that he brutally slaughters by the thousands!
Anyway, folks, we're back today despite an ongoing battle with a horrible virus here at the WWHM campus. Just like my grandma said, the action was incredibly hot at pregnantcalcuttamaleprostitutes.com, but so was the download rate for thousands of malware files. And as I type, I'm never sure if I just entered the letter "k", or ordered 18,000 pounds of erection cream.
We're going to try and fix our system tomorrow so we can be back for our mid-week postings, so keep sending in all the ideas, personal ads, photos, and youtube videos you find that fit WWHM. And if you're one of the hundreds of new readers to recently find WWHM, enjoy the archives and send me an email to say hello, or just post in the comments.
In the meantime, let's go to today's posts!
The theme? Stupid words that ruin personal ads. Like always, I love you guys!
(And remember, you can now vote for WWHM on Bloggers Choice, which you can find here! Vote in any category, or vote in all three. Don't worry, they'll kick me off soon anyway!)
Monday, October 20, 2008
I'll shave your snatch if you shave my back..Foreal deal hit me up. Geoff
The staff here at WWHM regularly puts a select group of females through a battery of tests to determine which words they like and don't like in personal ads.
The first word I realized women don't appreciate is when I referred to them as our "testees."
After receiving a furious beating with a battalion of extremely fashionable purses and gorgeous yet simplistic footwear, I calmed down the participants by referring to them as "subjects," and by providing a bowl of low-carb movie snacks and telling them I really liked their new breezy, modern hairstyles.
We've discovered one of the most popular words that instantly turn a great personal ad into a bad one is the inclusion of the term "snatch." In fact, I actually have a clip of such an ad stored in my archives. Roll the tape!
".....I'm physically fit, professionally employed and the proud father of two beautiful girls ages 6 and 8. But after happily getting divorced two years ago, I really miss the sweet smell of a moistened snatch, ........."
The word "snatch" instantly drains any sexuality out of the vagina, as it sounds like a term more qualified to describe an Indian hut constructed out of palm fronds, or perhaps a certain species of flightless quail. To put it in perspective, gentlemen, imagine a lusty woman approaching you and begging to fondle your stiffened "wheat germ." Believe me, your cock will drain so fast you'll wish your taint had airbags.
Back to Geoff though, a man whose back hair could nourish a pasture full of Namibian field goats. Geoff wants to trade an unpleasant activity (shaving his back) for a pleasant activity (shaving your "snatch"). Apparently Geoff thinks he's a Early American colonist and you are a Native American Indian, a proud people who once traded away a piece of land the size of Connecticut for a jug of moonshine and a pair of pointy English lounge shoes.
Geoff, shaving your back can involve anyone with one arm, a pulse, and a shocking disregard for the disgusting. But shaving her pussy requires trust, and women don't trust their pussy to a man who calls it a "snatch".
And on a personal note Geoff, The Weasel will admit that when he was a small boy, a boy so young his hairless and marble smooth testicles still gripped to his thorax like two baby koalas to their mother, he actually used the word snatch during a sexual encounter. And even at 15, her legs snapped shut like a well-oiled fox trap onto my startled baby turtle head, and transformed the glorious pink sheen of my legume-sized penis to a color more typical of a two month old banana sealed in a Sara Lee sandwich bag.
"Never again," my brain told me.
Any other mood-killing words or phrases women hate, you can post in the comments. Or you can just bash me for actually once saying "snatch."
Hello my name is Rueben and I would love to have fun with your D cup funbags! Do you enjoy having a man put his face between your mamaries glands and just licking everywhere including your lushious nipples and arreollas! I don't want sex or a relationship, just some time alone in between your jugs. I only require that you are size D or bigger (pic is best!)and if you are curently lactating thats a bonus. I love mamas milk. Finally have a man lust after your Funbags!
Rueben somehow manages to refer to breasts as "funbags", "jugs" and "mamaries glands" all in the course of 30 seconds. Which is commendable only if one is appearing on Family Feud and the question is "Name a word idiots use to describe female breasts."
D-cup women must be thrilled to find a man that is finally willing to lavish some attention on her breasts, nevermind the fact that she could open her front door naked, blow an airhorn, and cause a stampede of men not seen since the allied invasion of Normandy. If a D-cup woman is a planet, then men are her constantly orbiting, scummy moons. In fact, if you really want to get laid by a woman with D-cup breasts Rueben, walk up to her and say "Wow, I really love your eyes." Considering she likely hasn't heard that since puberty, she'll be acidophilus in your hands.
But no, Reuben chooses the old route of focusing on breasts. He even says "I don't want sex or a relationship, just some time alone in between your jugs." So not only does he clarify he doesn't want a relationship with you at all, he specifically wants to be alone with your breasts. Tell you what Reuben, hang two cantaloupes from a parking meter, and I'll milk a giraffe over your head. You'll get the same effect, only the parking meter won't yawn.
To attract a large-breasted woman, try using an unconventional approach. First, stop with the "bend over" dates, like trips to the petting zoo, a pumpkin patch, or the Grand Canyon. If you really want to impress her, take her to an air show or birdwatching. Second, try to maintain a straight face when approaching. The last thing she wants to see is another guy staring at her breasts like there's two leprechauns doing a riverdance while tossing a frisbee on her chest. The eyes bugging out, the jaw dropping- save it for ghosts.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
I'm The Weasel, your fearless male leader into a tragic world of dangling penises, mattress fuckers, and poorly packaged genitals that emit the same tangy, gamy odors you might find emanating from the bloated carcass of a beached whale smothered with a gelatinous mix of AstroGlide and expired beet paste.
Where do we find these horrors? We find them in personal ads posted on public internet bulletin boards of course, constructed by clueless men who wouldn't know a vagina if it sat next to them on the bus and started playing the pan flute.
See, unfortunately ladies, the photo accompanying today's "Welcome" post belies a tragic truth about men on the internet. They claim to be Exhibit A, but ultimately you'll be sharing a Moons Over MiHammy at Denny's with Exhibit B and splitting the tab. He won't tip, he'll tell you he's a "bad boy", and you'll have to jumpstart his 1986 Honda Accord before you manage to peel out of the parking lot.
Our personal ads can range from bizarre to disgusting, from clueless to insecure, and they're pretty much all idiotic in one way or another.
Please note that WWHM is vile, immature, nauseating, and definitely NSFW. I, nor my thousands of daily readers, would have it any other way. This blog is read by about 80% women, and their commentary would cause even the most hardened Bering Sea crabber to blush, cross his legs, and protect his genitals with a halibut.
Who am I to judge? I am no one. I am a small, weak man with a penis more aptly suited for a cold and frightened seahorse. I cower at rustling leaves and frequently urinate in my cheap Chinese briefs at the sound of a distant thunderclap. Bunnies frighten me, and in my spare time I hide in my closet and nibble on Saltines hamster-style.
But I write the jokes, so I'm here to stay.
So for you new readers, I update 2-3 times per week. And for you old readers, I fucking love you guys! And I'd like to thank whomever nominated WWHM over on Blogger's Choice, which I've never heard of before, but is currently sending me a lot of traffic. You can apparently vote for me here. So do it! Please everyone take one minute and vote. Let's make WWHM huge!
We'll see you next week!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Yup..for real here....chill ass surfer jock into showing off to females...love getting caught jerking off...whatever your down for though most girls like seeing me nutt on my board. Erik @ XXXXXX.XXX
Oh, fucking please ladies, behave yourselves. Stand up before you stain your chair. There's so much estrogen flowing in here, I just fucking lactated and bought three pairs of shoes I'm never going to wear.
Look, I'm not gonna say looking at those hot cross buns has instantly put all you guys in heat, but if I scrambled all the eggs you guys just pumped onto the floor I could make an omelette to feed the Dallas Cowboys. You want me to put a pat of butter on those poop clippers and cover him with some fucking Golden Griddle?
Don't mind me, I'll just get back to my new job of selling flood insurance. For vaginas.
Anyway, you oversexed, horny wombats, meet Erik. Erik has placed a personal ad seeking some onanistic adventures on the beach. But I caution you, the reality of sex on the beach is never what you really think it is.
The gentle scrape of barnacle on ball sack.
The playful buttock touch of a pre-historic bivalve mollusk.
A thousand sand fleas turning your ass crack into TickleZone 2000.
The sudden and uncomfortable awareness of the depth of your fallopian tubes when filled with abrasive volcanic sand grains.
Believe me, it's bad enough when you get crabs, but imagine contracting actual crabs. The doctor doesn't prescribe a medicinal shampoo, he prescribes seagulls. And the last thing I want is a sloppy beakjob from a hungry seabird. The last thing you want is to get beak-fucked by a mangy bird that subsists primarily on discarded french fries and whatever falls off of a porpoise.
But Erik doesn't even want sex. He wants to jerk off for you, onto his surfboard. Gee, I wonder where you'll stand in that relationship.
I contacted Erik, and he told me there's a reason he took this picture for his personal ad. He wanted to show you the muscles on his back, but he didn't want you to see the mussels in his crotch. Spending half your life waist deep in seawater will do that to you. His dick looks like a coral reef in Kauai. There are so many fucking crustaceans ensconced in his genital area you could douse his nuts with butter and lemon and have a fucking clam bake.
Now why don't all 3,000 of you drooling ladies email Eric and ask him out for Halloween so you can dress up as a backyard surfboard.
With a hole in it.
But sometimes, even the staff at WWHM is horrified at what we find, and unfortunately, cock must be posted. And because we cannot unsee what we have seen, WWHM often posts pictures of animals to soften the blow- to warn you that what you are about to see you will change you as a person. You will become hollow and empty, and there's a good chance you'll be eating carrots out of a dumpster by nightfall.
But don't confuse the billowy yellow softness of this shit-eating duck for any weakness on my part. I am a man's man. I eat nails, and stomp on my own testicles when I spell a word wrong. I would buff my shoes with this duck and throw him into the spinning blades of an aircraft engine without thinking twice.
"Aw, what a cute little duck," you say. Well I know this duck personally, and he's a fucking cocksucker. Plus he owes me $50 for a sack of blow. You wanna know how cute this stupid fucking duck is?
Name: Jimmy "The Beak" Palitornio
Occupation: Pimp, hitman, small-time gambler, waterfowl.
Warrants: 1st degree arson, murder, aggravated murder, assault, felonious assault with attempt to injure, bookmaking, possession of narcotics, burglary, and two unpaid parking tickets.
Known Affiliations: al-Qaeda, People's Front for the Liberation of Lebanon, ACORN, Southern Lafayette Glee Club, FOX News, FARC, Bolivian Revolutionary Army, Curious Sam's Big-Time Country Jazz Ensemble.
Likes: Mayhem, crack cocaine, breaking bones, prostitutes, George Bush, bombmaking, bread crumbs.
Dislikes: Joy, smiles, freedom, love, pleasure, babies, herpes, eagles.
There's your cute little duck for you. He's a real piece of work. Things aren't always what they seem, are they?
Now on to the cock. You've been warned. Get your clam bucket ready.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
I am Exhibitionist Looking For Woman OVER 55 for CFNM Don't care what you look like. This I'm not so bad---just over 50 & we know what that means--we're just not quite as "desireable" as the younguns. btw--CFNM is clothedfemalenakedmale which I can elaborate on if you want. THANX! PS--discretion given & asked! Nik XXX-XXX-XXXX
You know, these looked a lot better on Daisy Duke than they do on Uncle Jessie.
Nik's an exhibitionist, and I feel strongly he'd at least win a blue ribbon if he ever entered his balls into an exhibition titled "The World's Most Disgusting Genital Area- Ever." Apparently someone inserted a sea anenome into a sausage casing and strangled it with Bon Jovi's tattered headband and called it a penis. Someone get it a fucking wheelchair.
We must remember that Nik posted this photo in an attempt to attract a woman to have sex with him. I don't think you chose the best photo Nik. You'd have a better chance of getting a woman in the mood if you posted photos of the 1994 Rwandan genocide, or perhaps a photo from a devastating car accident. When a woman looks at this photo, her eggs immediately jump out of her ovaries, split themselves open, leap into the nearest frying pan and scramble themselves.
Nik is seeking a CFNM session, otherwise known as a Clothed Female-Naked Male encounter, a popular fetish among men. I wouldn't worry about the "clothed female" part Nik, I'm sure you've been dealing with that your whole life. A woman wouldn't take her clothes off around you unless you had some rope and a barrel of moths. In fact, a woman wouldn't take her clothes off around you if she was on fire. "No thanks," she'd say, "they're just mildly irritating flames."
While you may think the teasing, wispy edges of your torn hot pants and your playful, rotted orange pubic magpie nest of a groin qualifies as you "not too bad", I think the readers of WWHM might offer a more sobering opinion in the comments section. If you're "not too bad", then Richard Simmons isn't "too gay".
Now spray that fucking thing with disinfectant and put on an armor suit so we feel safe.
Man, I suck at cooking.
One minute I'm slicing garden-fresh tomatoes, and the next minute I'm covered in Saran Wrap and violently stimulating my taint with a ribbed and cock-headed walking cane.
This recipe sucks!
But you're not here for my cooking skills are you folks?
No, you're here to peruse the worst men's personal ads on the internet, because that's what we do here at WWHM Headquarters.
I'm The Weasel, your fearless leader into the world of shady men with the social skills of a retarded seahorse.
What do I ask from you? All I ask is that you become part of the growing WWHM community! So send in any personal ads you come across that make you want to heave partially-digested graham crackers onto your cat, as well as any other ideas you might find interesting for WWHM. This includes douchebags, assholes, vanity website shitbags, and any other stupid things that men do so this man can properly analyze them for you.
That's my fucking job!
Wanna taste? Let's do the posts.........
(Editors Note: Hey readers, please be aware I post personal ads verbatim, including improper word usage, poor spelling etc. Please don't email me to point out errors in the ads.)
Hi ladies! I am Steve a single man for long time who has not had sex in a long time, but I have a lot to ofer! I am 5 foot 7 about 255 lbs (not fat) and best of all I can offer you tons of cum. You won't beleive how much cum squirts out of my 5" (kinda small)dick, it will cover your face, breasts, hair and stomack, women absolutely love it! I have measured it, it can fill the bottom of a large coffee mug. I've been storing up for days and am ready to blast you the first woman that responds. You must pick me up and host at your house, call Steve at XXX-XXX-XXXX, valley area or north only first come first serve
There is a certain segment of society fascinated with the amount of ejaculate one experiences during orgasm. This segment is called "the men that are ejaculating." A powerful, voluminous ejaculation can produce an immensely powerful psychological high for males, who feel the quantity of ejaculate symbolizes their virility. It can produce an equal and opposite low for Steve's coffee mug, which now hopes to reincarnate as a festering testicular cancer cell in Steve's nuts.
Organon Pharma recently performed a study and determined that the average male ejaculation contains approximately one teaspoon of fluid, a teaspoon that likely can now sympathize with a certain coffee mug. But researchers have noted that some men, on occasion, can ejaculate up to 6 teaspoons in a single orgasm, a quantity capable of nearly filling an entire bowl. Hey Organon Pharma, where do you keep the Corn Flakes?
So now we meet Steve, a short, fat braggart without a car who fucks coffee mugs with a penis the size of a malnourished trout hatchling, and brags about how much you'll love him coating your face with his sperm. Believe me, his Sears catalog would thank you.
He also says he's single, and hasn't had sex in a long time. Thanks for the news flash, Steve. I'm not saying there's a correlation anywhere, but women just called Merriam-Webster and registered "Steve" as an antonym for "fantasy."
In reality, women won't care about how much you ejaculate Steve. Sperm could ooze out of your dick like cold sap from a dead tree stump, or shoot boxflies off the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with laser-like precision. Either way, the problem is the sperm comes out of you, a pencil-dicked social leper that makes women sick to their stomach.
Oh, sorry. I meant "stomack."
Do you have any really uptight, sheltered Baptist friends who you really feel just need to "get loose" once in a while?
Here's a great gift idea for them, a cordless battery-operated "Super- Massager". It's a stimulation device- for your complexion!
What did you think it was for? Beating eggs? You were close.
Perfect for those nights you're all alone, the "Super-Massager" allows you to lay back in bed, close your eyes, slowly spread your legs open to a relaxed position....and then massage your cheekbones.
That's right, this vibrating, bendable body massager will penetrate deeply into any body part, providing earth-shattering relief to your um...shoulders, neck or collarbone area.
It even works on your knees! Or your feet!
The "Super-Massager" is made of flexible latex rubber, allowing you to directly stimulate those hard to reach areas that beg so achingly to be relieved- like behind your ears or your lower back.
Plus, the latex rubber allows for easy cleaning after use- you don't want it to get covered with all those eyelashes and skin cells do you? Oh, and is your skin dry? Add some lubricant to really juice up those sensitive areas you really don't like to talk about- your temples!
And how about multi-speed fingertip controls? That's right, you can ratchet up the Super Massager when you really need to get in there and pound those brows with extra intensity to culminate in some seriously mind-blowing um.....facial relaxation.
Order one today. Your husband will love to watch you use it. He may like it so much, he may even use it himself! To massage his temples. Of course.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Hello all you women out there. I am looking for a women to fulfill a sexual fetish of mine. I love getting stuffed inside a cardboard box naked! Now you must have big hands like um... something like man hands! Cause I love seeing those big hands stuff me into a box naked! But anyways you need to also be hot like drop dead gorgeous. So if you think you are up for it hit be back with a email. I will be waiting for you..... Bill
Several years ago, I compiled a list of things to avoid in life:
1. Growling dogs.
2. People with bloody hatchets running through the streets yelling "That pigeon discovered the formula!"
3. Judgemental, hypocritcal squirrels.
4. Boxes that moan and smell of old ham.
Bill here violates Rule #4, as he likes to hide inside cardboard boxes. Some may say that just makes him a big ol' kitten at heart, but I don't know too many kittens sporting such a lovely and rugged handlebar moustache.
Bill has placed a personal ad seeking a drop dead gorgeous woman with large "man hands" to seal him inside a cardboard box. Which creates an interesting juxtaposition when considering the attractiveness of a woman, as most men consider "man hands" a definite deal breaker. You might be hot, but if you're attempting to stroke my cock with 10 grit sandpaper hands that could haul a dead giraffe through the llanos, your pretty breasts aren't going to keep my mind off the fact that you're whittling scraps of precious meat off my penis.
If I want my penis torn to shreds, I'll drench my balls in salmon paste and toot an eagle whistle.
I don't know too many gorgeous women who work in the large appliance shipping department of Sears that fix transmissions in their spare time, but if I did, I still doubt any would respond to this ad. While I hear many women coo dreamily about someday getting pounded like a piling by a faceless wanderer on a black horse, I rarely hear women brag that they had the greatest orgasm of their life last night by masturbating to visions stuffing a fat man with sausage fingers into a cardboard box.
Please pack with peanuts, coat with fucking stamps, and send to:
US Senator Larry Craig
United States Senate
Washington, DC 20510-1203
Monday, October 13, 2008
Did you miss me?
I have been thinking about you non-stop. So much so that I put on my grandmother's CountryWhore lingerie collection and went outside to anally violate a 1989 Toyota Land Cruiser doggy-style whilst whispering your name softly into my expired tabs.
It felt just like I was fucking you- without all the snoring.
But now you're here. Let me make love to you.
And don't worry if my penis smells a little like Valvoline 10W-40 high-mileage motor oil, because the viscosity is great for your vagina. Plus, it guards against leaks, sludge, and unwanted deposits- well, at least that's what it says on the easy-pour spout. Do you mind if I check you for leaks and sludge?
Fine ladies, I'll go take a shower instead. But just know this:
WWHM is back! And it's going to be worse than ever, and that's a promise!
We'll post the worst and strangest personal ads the internet has to offer- all served up by you, my beloved WWHM readers. What else do we have in store for the next few weeks?
We have an informative lesson on the penis coming up, plus an analysis of some sweet sex toys.
So stay tuned ladies, WWHM is making a comeback, just like those retarded kids they used to make after-school specials about.
And we're all going to learn a lesson about Why Women Hate Men.
New posts start tomorrow!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
This is The Weasel, your fearless leader into the world of all that is foul and horrifying in men's personal ads.
Folks, once again we've had some things come up at WWHM Headquarters, and suddenly we are off to Los Angeles to have some important meetings, hopefully very important meetings.
We'll fill you in on the details when we come back, but until then, please enjoy the hundreds of archived entries we've put up in the three months since our inception. Yes, it's our three month birthday today.
I'd like to thank everyone that has participated in the sudden and unanticipated growth of WWHM these past few months, and hope you continue to enjoy the site and check back as often as possible. I never imagined this site would gather more than 1,000 hits in three months, but we're approaching 200,000.
We'll be checking our email, so keep sending your ideas and material in, and we'll be back soon!
I fucking love you guys!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
What I think would be hot is for a woman to wear a pair of rubber under pants for a few weeks, only removing them to use the toilet. She would shower in them (but if you let your BO build that would be nice too), sleep in them exercise in them. and during those few weeks the musk from her vagina will build and stew. only to be released from the underpants when I take them off so that you can sit on my face and I can enjoy the flavor and aroma of you.
If this scenario interests you please email Tom at XXXXXX@XXXXX.com
My mother owns some strange breed of dog, I have no idea what it's called, but it's something like a "Twice-Baked Parking Spaniel". I always get it wrong, and my mother scolds me for it, as though I might somehow offend the dog by mis-characterizing its heritage. Sure, it doesn't know its fucking asshole from a green pepper, but don't insult its ancestry.
The dog has two purposes in life: first, to annoy the fucking shit out of everybody within a 10 mile radius, and second, to find the most disgusting, foul, horrifying dead and/or rotten substance known to man and roll around in it long enough to ensure every single hair on its body is completely saturated with the thick, savory juices of whatever has deceased and/or was excreted from some mysterious, long-gone anus.
Dead seagull? Sure, why not take a spin in the entrails. Huge pile of St. Bernard shit? Sounds like a zesty snack. Two week old moose carcass lying on the side of the road? Don't mind if I do.
Tom feels the same way about women. When he says he wants a dirty woman, he doesn't necessarily mean a porn star. He means an athletic nun with no running water that masturbates with the rotting head of a sea bass. Massengil? No way. Bass-engill? Bring it on! We had a term for this smell when we were 16 years old; we called it "proof." Nowadays we call it "disgusting." Tom? He calls it "tangy."
I don't know how popular a fetish this is amongst men. But The Weasel can attest more than a few times we've been out at the bars and this particular olfactory assault wafted through the air like a distant tornado siren. "Watch out," it says.
If I'm going to enjoy something intended to "build and stew," let it be the vegetable flavors in a hearty shrimp gumbo. Pussy? Not so much. The general rule is if you can smell the onions in the kitchen, you should just stay the fuck in the living room.
Unfortunately Tom, most women find doucheing light-spirited and fun! Dad and the boys watch football, while Mom and daughter bond with light-hearted douche talk! Doucheing. Bringing families together since 1954.
As you can see, I had some very important calls to make yesterday.
Make sure you check back tomorrow for more reasons to acquire a taste for lesbianism......
.......and God knows I'd support that decision.
As long as you tell me about it.
With graphs. And charts. Pics. Video. Re-enactments. Whatever you deem necessary to get the point across.