Friday, January 30, 2009

So Who Is The Real Bitch Now, Bitch?

Welcome to WWHM.

As our thousands of faithful WWHM readers know, we've put up a couple posts on WWHM in the last few months showing some of the psychotic, pathetic and bizarre missives crafted by recently spurned men.

We thought the idea was interesting enough to make a suggestion to WWHM readers that they send in any letters, emails, texts or recorded phone messages they have stored on their computers from men who currently house a piece of your goddamn foot straight up their ass.

Because when you dump a guy, he's trolling around with his buddies telling everyone what a fucking bitch you are.

Meanwhile, when he's at home all alone at night in his scared little place, he's writing you pathetic, psychotic and rambling emails and letters because he's a fucking pussy and he can't own up to the fact that he loves you or wants you or whatever.

And believe me, these motherfuckers can write. These guys are writing goddamn novellas, minus the dainty ponies, the dewy fields of wheat, and that weird Indian guy that always pops up with some wise ass shit to say.

We got quite a response from our request for letters, and we decided to post them in a new companion blog. Now, you will find some but not all the sarcastic commentary you find here on WWHM, but you will indeed find the darkened and trampled hearts of guys who apparently should have a background check done before they are even allowed to wield a pair of dull second-grade art classroom scissors. Is WWHM going anywhere? Absolutely not.

So without further ado, I present to you a new blog from WWHM.

The Psychotic. The Pathetic. The Bizarre.

A forum to show men who the real bitch is.

Psychotic Letters From Men

Monday, January 26, 2009

Disguised

I need a meaningful relationship... 53/m

I really want a relationship, but I need to find out why a woman justs wants to have sex with me and nothing else. I mean they're all willing to come over for sex, but anything else is out of the question. They just want sex and all I want is a meaningful relationship. Is it too much to ask?

Is it about my manhood?
I have such a great package, and what I do with it is even more interesting.


Maybe it is my amazing oral abilities that scares them?
My tongue is a normal length, but the softness, and the way I flatten it out, and how I move it makes even my lesbian ex's miss me.

Maybe they can't handle all the gushing orgasms?
I know women like it when I move that slow dance I move. For some reason that move I do makes things very very messy...But in a good way. In a way that makes them wonder what the HELL just happened to me? I've never done that before! Maybe it's because I know how to make woman just explode everywhere. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.

Oh well, still if there are any of you woman out there that want to help me figure out what's wrong with me, you know what to do... I just want to be in loving relationship with a good woman. Seth

For his next trick, Seth will place his balls in a teacup and tell you it's fucking won-ton soup.

In a brilliant move, Seth has attempted to ingeniously disguise his personal ad seeking sex as a genuine plea for a meaningful relationship. Yeah, that works out pretty well for you Seth. As an encore, I'm going to tape two bee wings to a horse and tell everyone it's a fucking canary. Your ad doesn't fly Seth, but it certainly attracts flies.

It attracts flies because your personal ad is nothing but a shit sandwich. Your false pleas for a relationship at both ends of your personal ad merely symbolize the slices of softened bread which you desperately hope to crisp in the nearest woman's cock toaster. And betwixt these flaccid and flimsy slices of bread, you present an unbelievable layer of shit, bespeckled only by the hollowed kernels of corn that symbolize your empty lies. Let's have a chew on some of those peanuts of truth, shall we?

"My tongue is a normal length, but the softness, and the way I flatten it out, and how I move it makes even my lesbian ex's miss me."

You weakly attempt to make a preposterous point that you eat pussy better than a lesbian. But even the pea-sized hypothalamus of a teenage barn snake could extract the deeper meaning within- the interesting fact that more than one of your exes is now a lesbian. Coincidence? I think not. Perhaps your penis fulfills a prescription for Sominex, yet cannot fulfill a woman- understandable when an intial penetration feels like inserting a quartered snack carrot through the St. Louis arch. And perhaps one might equivocate your oral technique to that of an elderly woman tongue-suckling the juice off the nubbin of a moistened pickle at a senior home gherkin expo.

"Maybe it's because I know how to make woman just explode everywhere. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

I know three things that make women explode everywhere; cheating men, unripe green apples with skin, and food poisoning. I don't know which method you use, but my ex-girlfriend read your ad and immediately stated her preference for fucking a punchbowl of E coli.

"I know women like it when I move that slow dance I move."

At 53 years-old I assume you employ some type of ancient Viagra-fueled Lawrence Welk penis polka set to the pleasant musical fumblings of Dick Sitka and His All-Harpsichord Quartet. "Sweatin' to the Oldies" was a Richard Simmons workout tape, not a fantasy theme for desperate women.

What's wrong with you Seth?

You're an ass of the highest order, a false and embellishing braggart humiliating himself in the name of a piece of ass for which you will never have a taste. Enjoy meandering through the fog of your scripted sexual past, because when you come to the clearing that is reality, the crisp and cool air of truth shalt emerge:

If you were that good in bed, you wouldn't be wasting your days dreaming up wayward schoolboy sexual scenarios for a desperate and delusional personal ad.

Monday, January 19, 2009

The Power!

Looking for a fun date 28m

I'm looking for a beautiful woman to accompany me to dinner. Hopefully you are interesting and appreciate my sense of humor. Honestly, I want to get laid of course so you must be the sexual type.

Long term is possible. I am an avid rock climber and enjoy water skiing and hope to compete next year at XXXXXXXXXX. I hope you might enjoy these things but once again I want have sex so please keep that in mind. If you aren't horny than please don't waste my time.

Matt


Today the Weasel will channel Matt's ad to teach women to truly understand and appreciate the overwhelming power of Sperm.

I don't think women spend much time thinking about Sperm. Sure, they know it's something they have to chisel off their ribcage in the morning with a fingernail. They know it tastes like something that leaked out of a helicopter gearbox, and the nuanced flavor tends to haunt their mouth like a Tide-flavored poltergeist. Most importantly, they at least know not to let Sperm around their free-range eggs when nature calls for the cock of a tattooed fry cook born with webbed flippers and some type of fucking bird beak on his forehead.

To men however, Sperm is a version of God. Just take away the powers of fire, lightning and locusts, and replace them with the Power of Pillowstaining, the Power of Bleach, and a wide array of refreshingly original freestyle swimming strokes.

What women don't know is that Sperm makes guys do stupid fucking shit. Ask any guy the stupidest fucking thing he's ever done, and undoubtedly that act will lead directly back to Sperm. Confront Sperm with the evidence, and He'll just sit there whistling and shrugging His shoulders, as if He actually had shoulders. We, as men, must take full responsibility for Sperm's actions. Because without Sperm, we are weak. We are pasty little lambs frightened of our shadows and the wind created by passing flies.

Matt's ad is a perfect example of the power of Sperm. I'm sure Matt's actually a great guy and not as self-centered as his ad appears. So let's take a closer look at what actually transpired:

Matt: "I'm looking for a beautiful woman to to accompany to dinner......".

Sperm: "YOU WILL WRITE 'I HONESTLY WANT TO GET LAID'."

Matt: "I don't know Sperm, I think that's just a little forward and some women might construe it as........."

Sperm "YOU WILL DO IT NOW!"

Matt: Yes sir.

Five minutes later:

Matt: "Long term is possible. I am an avid..........."

Sperm: "YOU WILL WRITE 'IF YOU'RE NOT HORNY DON'T WASTE MY TIME!"

Matt: "Now come on Sperm. I will have zero chance of .... .... . "

Sperm: "YOU WILL DO IT NOW OR I WILL SHRINK YOUR FUCKING SACK AND COAT YOUR FUCKING FACE WITH ACNE!"

Matt: Yes, sir.

As you can see, Matt is simply a worthless pawn in Sperm's game. And the problem is Sperm simply has no game with women.

So how, you ask, do you release a man from Sperm's grip? You must release the Sperm, and if you don't know how to do that yet, you need to visit a Bakersfield biker bar at 1 am with an edible thong, five tabs of ecstasy and a three-ply dental dam.

For after a man ejaculates he is finally a man of his own devices for five minutes, a man with no Sperm. And as you'll immediately discover, a man powered simply by his own devices is a weak, whining little worthless bitch who doesn't want you to touch him and just wants to sleep in the fetal position. So what is a woman to do?

Nothing. You're totally, completely fucked.

Sorry.

(Thankfully, we don't have to listen to the endless confusing ministrations and 577 languages of Vagina. That thing has more opinions than fucking CitySearch. I'm surprised women don't just walk around in circles clucking like a goddamn chicken.)

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Just Another Day at WWHM......

CUCUMBER, CORN, and Toys - 34m

I have CUCUMBERS and Corn and other toys, for any local women that are interested.

They are kind of like cocks, except we can eat it when your done! :)

Mark

They are kind of like cocks, except unlike Mark, they can stay hard.

I don't know what etiquette class you took Mark, but I believe cock extenders go on the right, and the anal lube goes on the left.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Picture Perfect

NEED A GOOD WOMAN

Looking for a nice woman to chat with and maYbe meet sometime. Age and size does not matter to me. If you like my pic just hit me back I have more pics for you to see and you can send me one to

THANKS Adam

Fairweather maidens, please behold with squinted eye and sealed nostril the fucking unstoppable sex tractor that WWHM proudly presents today if only to stir your loins like so many industrial urns full of frothy International House of Pancakes waffle batter. "Stop knitting me that odor-absorbent open-crotched thong, good woman," he might coo, "I need you to perform a thorough hand recount of my hanging chads." You wanted class, and nothing screams class more vehemently than a mule-cocked ex-con in sunglasses testing the limits of the stretchy and forgiving fabrics of mid-80s pop-n-lock Hammer pants in a Photoshopped personal ad.

Good women seeking a good man need look no further than Adam. A confident man besmocked
with discounted linens, fully-engorged genitals and poorly clipped houseplants, Adam maintains the visage of an everyday man, just as comfortable talking shop with your yarn group as he would be mowing down hundreds of innocent civilians in a hail of gunfire at your local feed store. And behind his mysterious sunglasses, Adam finger tickles the hidden clitoral fantasies of the sheltered vixen hiding inside all good women by simply leaning back, showcasing his erection like an item up for bid on The Price is Right, and pondering the unanswered question “Whence forth shalt a prudent, church-going missus come gnaw on my enormous tubesteak?”

Cast aside assumptions his moth-gnawed off-brand leopard briefs emanate a potpourri of nasal flavorings ranging from the muted tanginess of unscrubbed taint to hints of the sour morning breath exhaled by a hungover chain-smoking street pigeon gargling the amniotic fluids of a pregnant housecat.

Extract the chewed badger innards from his wiry beard, surround him with children, and show him a close-up photo of his grandmother bent over the stove in a set of crotchless panties to gingerly deflate the skin blimp taking flight in his trousers, and you practically have Pat Sajak teaching Bible study at a church camp.

Take heed vibrators, Adam just guaranteed you another six-month contract.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Unmet Needs

feeling very needy right now-39M

my girlfreind left me for another man leaving me all alone, Do you want to be helper in making my life better, I need someone to take care of me and cook for me help me wash my clothes and help me going to work until my car is fixed. I am 6 feet tall and avergae sized, would like to meet women, and please have car for work, i will try and help you pay you back. i am alergic to cats also so don't have cats

Ben xxx-xxx-xxxxx xxxxxx @ xxxxxx.com


A friend recently offered WWHM some insight on how she views a personal ad. “I take little bits and pieces from a personal ad and put it together like a puzzle,” she said. “Simple words and phrases offer tremendous insight, and by assembling the pieces you can create an image of whether he's a curious adventurer, a powerful businessman, or even an intellectual genius.” WWHM applied this thoughtful technology to Ben's personal ad, and all we could create was an image of a colostomy bag chain-smoking Pall Malls in a high chair.

Ben has written a personal ad primarily to tell you all about his needs. He needs someone to cook for him, he needs someone to do his laundry, and most importantly he needs someone to give him a ride to work … …. and something tells me you won't be pulling up to the front door of the Goldman Sachs trading floor.

Interestingly, after reading Ben's personal ad women also discovered they had some needs. Needs such as a burlap sack full of minted sheep balls to slap the 18th century off Ben's face into his snot-soaked Snoopy bib. Needs such as an areola extractor to decouple Ma Kettle's dehydrated teet from Ben's pursed and quivering lips. Needs such as a twine and oak ass joist to hoist Ben's sorry butt from the Frito-encrusted second-hand couch he's been living on to the laundry room at the Poughkipsee Eazy-Snore Inn where he could learn that even a mildly retarded and legally blind penguin can do a fucking load of laundry with a flipper tied behind his back and a rat gnawing on the webbing between his toes.

The truth is we all know a someone who dates a guy like Ben. "He's just misunderstood," they say with a frozen block of Bullseye TV dinner mashed potatoes over their blackened eye, "he just needs to get out of a rut." Yeah, we know honey. If the unmotivated genius inside would just crawl out of that tangle of Schmidt beer cans he's been hiding under for the past eight years, surely he'd cure cancer, run a Fortune 500 company, or even clean up a piece of dog shit that's been sitting on the carpet so long it can stink in six languages. Meanwhile, she calls you every day whimpering "..... he's ..... just ..... not .... changing."

If you want change, go buy an Atlanta Apartment Guide with a $20 bill, and you'll have two opportunities for change in one second.

But meanwhile you're destined for the set of Judge Judy to argue over a 1982 Men at Work cassette tape left in the glove compartment of a station wagon that's been sitting on bricks for four years. "I'm fixing the station wagon," he says, leafing through a Ferrari catalogue to choose which model he might buy once he gets out of his Dairy Queen greeter career if only someone gave him a chance.

Then he blames you for stale soup crackers and the minute surface temperature changes of his napping pillow. Because he has needs to be met, and you will never meet them. So why do women stay with guys like Ben?

Oh yeah, that's right.

Because he loves you!

Feel free to admit you've dated a fucking loser in the comments.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

A Charitable Donation

ALLOW ME TO HELP SOLVE YOUR HUSBANDS INFERTILITY PROBLEM

I am a 56 year old male. I have decided to get a vasectomy next month and I would like to impregnate a woman before I have this procedure done. It would behoove you to act quickly for maximum exposure to my sperm. I will only do this naturally without condoms. If your husband can't do the job, I can.

Having been asked previously by several couples who were friends of mine to donate sperm, I learned from their doctors that I have an extreme sperm level. I can give you multiple loads of sperm per meeting to increase your chances of getting pregnant.


Many of my physical traits are influenced by recessive genes. Therefore, it is most likely that the child would resemble the mother in most instances. It will be easy to deceive your family and friends into thinking it is your husbands child. It will be our secret. You will not see me again.

If you are 18-24, healthy, attractive, I am available to you. I will be very attentive, supportive, and encouraging, during this process. My vasectomy is in 5 weeks so it would behoove you to contact me as soon as possible.
Gary xxxxxxxx@ xxxxxx .com


….. and just when you think you will never have to think about Gary again, the baby will utter his very first word …...

Behoove.

Gary has decided to lock his birds in the aviary, but not before he makes a last ditch effort to pass on his modesty, his charming demeanor, but most importantly, multiple loads of his totally fucking "extreme sperm". Unfortunately, at 56, extreme sperm might refer to five or six sperm bickering about seasonal weather changes over a Denny's breakfast menu. Put a Bingo sign on your vagina and install a wheelchair access ramp, and you may be able to lure them into your womb if only to proudly display a sprouting assemblage of severely inflamed bunions to your yawning, disinterested eggs.

Free impregnation personal ads like this one continue to flood WWHM world headquarters like so many Valtrex coupons and genital crab pamphlets. Thinly disguised as charitable offers, a trained eye can easily spot the elderly author's willing donation of his piping hot semen as a disingenuous attempt to coerce female participation in repeated rounds of totally hot and juicy, if not tantalizingly forbidden, teen sex. “I will only do this naturally without condoms,” Gary says, forcing hundreds of ovulating young ladies to immediately book reservations for a candlelight dinner with a cold petri dish and a bag of dry ice.

Gary claims veteran status when it comes to impregnating his friends, his erection rotating like a lawn sprinkler to repeatedly apply a generous and even coat of recessive genes to the hats, scarves and reproductive organs of ever-thankful townsfolk. Acquiring recessive genes may sound appealing at first to a woman hoping to bear a child with a likeness similar to hers, but she may re-consider when she discovers that would also involve sexual intercourse with a thin-lipped and bald albino hemophiliac with a double-jointed forehead and fused eye sockets. Beauty might be only skin deep, but when you're fucking a nearsighted yard gnome with permanently flared nostrils, WWHM strongly suggests you first incorporate alcoholism into your own genetic traits.

Every man has a natural predilection to spread his seed from the moment he first attempts to impregnate a Cosmopolitan magazine binding staple at 12 years of age. But WWHM feels Gary crossed the line with this pathetic attempt to get laid before he snips the feed lines to his udder. If you want to get laid, earn it or pay for it. But don't masquerade as a knight-in-shining armor when you're just the village milkman with a van full of spoiled and sour product.

"You will not see me again."

We can only hope Gary.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Self-Tanning Gone Wrong

Eyebrows tweezed: check

Proper application of Sav-Mart mousse: check

Lipstick for men: check

Self-tanning lotion applied: check check check check check check check check check check check check check check check check check.

By the end of the night, this poor girl is going to look like she got in a fight with some poo.

(photo courtesy of HCwDB)

Monday, January 5, 2009

WWHM Goes Balls-Free!

WANTED: SNUGGLE BUNNY!!!

So much cold weather lately has got this lad missing having a snuggle bunny to curl up with. Don't you wish you had the soft, warm touch all over your body while being gently caressed and kissed? If so, read on!

My bunny looks cute (in everything) & loves to snuggle & has a soft nice relaxing voice (don't want ear screeching when we're snuggling) & available to snuggle as early as this weekend. Color of fur, tail size, floppy ears, doesn't concern me!

I love all types of movies, lots of hobbies, great listener, love to bunny hop(dance), listen to music, nature walk, walk on the waterfront at sunset holding hands followed by dinner at a nice restaurant of your liking........ This bunny is 21, handsome, cute, funny, sensitve, six feet tall, and has been described as having "lovely" hazel eyes who gives a really warm hugs!

Please bmail (bunny mail) with a picture and lets hop from there. This bunny's selections criteria is the cutest little furry bunny tail and smile. Being a great kisser adds bunnypoints!!! Jason xxxxxxxx @ xxxxxx.com


Ladies and gentleman, sometimes WWHM feels our poor readers deserve a break.

A break from the flavorless buffet of impotent assclowns who pepper the internet with personal ads surmising that all a woman requires to be happy in this world is a semi-hard dick, a milk crate to sit on, and a new ironing board every Christmas. A break from the braying, mouse-cocked barn mules who soak internet bulletin boards with their obese and hair-matted torsos, cursing the supermodels of the world for not promptly attending to their untrimmed toenails. And if you think WWHM is bad now, just wait until Google releases OdorBlogger v. 1.0. During WWHM test runs, the unbridled and freewheeling aromas of uncleansed male taint forced us to gasp for fresh air by plowing our deep-green faces into the bloated and unforgiving carcass of a decomposing narwhal full of undigested piling barnacles.

So today WWHM thought we'd throw our readers for a loop by showcasing the softer side of male personal ads. Personal ads that force upon you the cruelest irony of sexual attraction. When WWHM finally features an ad that nary mentions balls, the first question on many women's minds is “Jesus Christ, where are his fucking balls?” That collective yawn you just heard was 18 million vaginas tuning in to "The Hills."

His balls have recessed into his body cavity, making a delicious and deep-toned slurping sound as they did so. And when a man loses his balls he becomes a pussy, so with Jason you will have effectively have two pussies. One pussy to carry in your pants for solo pole-gnawing orgasms, and the other pussy to carry your purse, who, if he's lucky, may provide an occasional halfgasm that causes you to squeak briefly in the same manner a trained dolphin might beg for a beachball.

Women enjoy surrendering to rabid animal attraction, but that animal is rarely going to be a bunny with floppy ears. A bear, a lion, perhaps even a mild-mannered rock ape if there's a couple of large beers involved. My point is Jason has emasculated himself beyond the point of redemption for most women. Snuggling is great, but not when he wakes you up in the middle of the night to say one or more of the following:

“I'm so excited for the parade tomorrow I can barely sleep!”

“Who doesn't get excited by the springtime aroma of freshly dried bath towels?”

“Boy I love the way these cotton sock garters hold both my socks equidistant from my kneecaps.”

WWHM realizes we will catch some flak for posting this ad, but many readers forget that WWHM is written by man, and a man sometimes has to call it as he sees it. And this man sees another man who lanced his fucking testicles to find a woman who in the long run will demand he produce exactly that which he lanced to find her. A man who irons his jeans and weeps during life insurance commercials. A man who giggles eating pudding and sits when he pees.

I think my sister put it best.

"My pussy has so much gravitational pull I can suck Orson Welles out of a pool drain," she said. "But if that pansy motherfucker put his hand anywhere near my panties he'd have to consult a pirate how to put a rubber pussy on a hook."

Well said, sis. Well said.

I put it into the hands of WWHM readers. Would you respond to this ad?

(Ed: For inquiring minds, that is the picture he posted with the ad. Weasel says: SOFT!)

Sunday, January 4, 2009

WWHM Program Note

WWHM readers such as this guy may have noticed I haven't been posting as frequently since the Christmas break. I recently landed my first paid writing gig, and along with my co-worker here, I have to keep up my side job of plastics stress testing as well. It's going to be taking up a lot of my time over the next couple of months.

I will continue to post as often as possible, but the time constraints and deadlines of my new job must now take precedence over WWHM. But don't worry, posts will continue to go up! And remember, you can always subscribe to WWHM at the bottom of the page. You guys have been the greatest fans in the world and I hope you stick with me.

-The Weasel

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Test Drive

Just trying VigRX - Need a test run before use on girlfriend

Just a shot in the dark here, but I've been trying out VigRX for a little while now, and I do notice that I'm getting harder and longer lasting erections (while in self-satisfying mode). It's supposed to be a penis enlargement pill, but apparently it has viagra like qualities as well. I do feel a lot harder. Before, I couldn't keep it up for very long with my girlfriend, but now I think that it might be helping.

Was wondering if any ladies out there would like to help me give it a test run before I try it on my girlfriend. She won't be back for a week so I just want to make sure. Steven XXX-XXX-XXXX


Ahhhh yes, just another day at WWHM, and just another man scribing an ad to attract a woman by first admitting he takes penis enlargement pills, then admitting he suffers from premature ejaculation, then revealing he has problems maintaining an erection, and finally, acknowledging he already has a girlfriend. Who says romance is dead? As far as I can fucking tell, if a duck took a wade into the vast depths that is the current male dating pool, he'd emerge with unsplashed kneecaps.

But thankfully Steven is a mime, so at least he can still simulate having sex with no one. But impotent at 29? At 29, I could get my dick hard watching one of the Golden Girls have a stroke.

The general problem with the lot of male personal ads these days is that women tend to think of the penis as an appendage to the man, while most men write their personal ads as though they were the appendage to the penis. “Look at this amazing penis!” their ads bellow, “have you ever seen such a glorious organ?” But she's looking at the background of the photo, where a mangy dog is eating a seagull in the living room, there's a dinner plate on a milk crate, and the bed showcases what appears to be a rubber vagina consuming a carrot. She could care less about your penis; she's essentially fucking an apartment with all the welcoming conviviality and charm of a mid-winter downtown Detroit Greyhound bus depot during a NAMBLA convention.

Yet guys like Steven, who constructed an entire personal ad dedicated to the minute ministrations and daily struggles of his genitals, exacerbate the problem by attributing their failures with women to- what else?- a small penis. Men are putting the cart before the horse; no women are going to know you have a small penis if they don't give a shit about it in the first place. Yet Steven spends $932.99 on herbal penis enlargement pills (I checked; comes with a free exercise video!) in hopes of making himself more attractive to women. Believe me, if herbs and spices made your dick bigger, I'd beleaguer my genitals with chipotle Underoos until my penis resembled a family-sized can of beef broth.

Here's the facts: 95% of men have an erect penis that measures between 5.3 and 6.1 inches. 95% of women have a vaginal depth between 3.8 to 4.6 inches. In a nutshell, most of us are going to fit together pretty well. Even if you're a little shorter than average it's not like you're heaving a cocktail frank into the Grand Canyon, and she'll be thankful you're not beating her damn cervix like a catcher's mitt.

Guys need to hear it from the source. Do you ever want to see or hear about a guy's dick before you've even met him? Does size matter? Feel free to post anonymously.

This "show-and-tell about your dick" in a personal ad business has reached a breaking point here at WWHM.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Have At Him Ladies

As posted by Anastasia in the comments, and way too good for WWHM to pass up. Thanks Anastasia!

http://www.louisvillefreeface.com/index.htm

Courtesy of Something Awful.

"We can consider my admiring your naked body to be my payment for services rendered."