Thursday, April 24, 2008


Looking for a good women - 39

This is new for me but I am willing to give it a shot I want a woman that can share my love for writing, cats and movies. I have two cats that are my baby’s I love a women that loves cats Purrrrrrr…… So if you are between the age of 34-55 send me a reply and a picture.

There's only one thing more pathetic than a woman whose life revolves around her stupid cats.

And that is a single man that simply has cats.

Thinking about a single man owning cats causes me to heave violently like a dog who just ate a wheelbarrow full of lawn clippings.

But, perhaps ladies, you enjoy tugging incessantly for hours on a small, flaccid and utterly useless penis. You could probably blow this guy for 15 straight minutes and still use his penis as a twisty on a loaf of bread.

But if you ever really want to get him hard, you just have to whisper two simple words into his ear:

David Beckham.

Don't Smile For The Camera. Please. God.



If this guy is really into spooning, he might want to start by spooning some of those dry roasted almond skins out of his gums. I haven't seen a grill like that since I worked the fried fish bin at Denny's.

You know, I am good at pretending. For example, my ex-girlfriend used to tell me that I was pretty good at walking around pretending I was a man, when deep inside I knew my penis was the size of a common housekey.

But this guy can't possibly pretend to not know how bad his teeth are.

I used to have bad teeth myself. So bad that I shelled out $12,000 for a set of porcelain veneers, so essentially my teeth are now made out of the same material as a toilet.

When I tried to explain this concept to Consuela, my non-English speaking Mexican housekeeper, she thought I was asking her to poo in my mouth. She quit, and I was promptly arrested, but that's beside the point.

The point is women are very attracted to a nice smile.

And having made that point, this man's mouth will make a woman's legs snap shut like an alligators mouth on a steaming hot butter-basted Hormel turkey.

A case study in vagina repellant at its best.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Master of the Obvious

looking for woman- man 4 woman 35 years old

sex please. or would like more head.

This guy needs more head like he needs to walk through an airport security checkpoint with a clock, a fuse, and a bottle with a skull emblazoned on the side labelled "Poison- for the pilot."

Look at that dome. It doesn't even fit in the picture.

I could park a Hyundai Elantra in that skull and have enough space left over for a church bus full of retards to play catch with a boxload of pre-softened frisbees.

Yet I digress.

I think that the key to a successful personal ad for males is to differentiate oneself from the pack.
One way to not differentiate yourself in any way as a guy is to state that you "want more head."

For women, trying to find a guy that "wants more head" is like trying to find a guy with a nose on his face. Yeah, it's not too difficult.

In fact, even if you were to find a guy born without a nose on his face, and you asked him if he could have one thing, anything, in this world, even while pointing at the obvious absence of a nose on his face, I know what his answer would be.

"Hmm. I guess I would like more head."

Friday, April 4, 2008

Car Ad from 2003

Can of Lima Beans - $1000.00 (1990 Acura Integra included)

You are gambling on a 1990 blue (“bi-polar depression blue”) Acura Integra GS with 263,000 miles on it. No, that is not a misprint. This car has travelled the equivalent of 10 times around the earth. Believe me, there’s nothing left you can do to surprise this car. If you don’t buy it now, within 3 months you’ll see 18 soldiers in this Acura rolling around in war-torn Nigeria with two machine gunmen on top and a Van Halen sticker on the door.

It comes with a can of Western Family Lima Beans. Delicious!

I purchased this car two years ago with 212,000 miles on it for $1200. I thought I’d drive it for 10,000 miles, or until it spontaneously exploded or started releasing it’s own parts onto I-5 in a pathetic plea for death. Amazingly, that has not occurred.

Acura originally marketed the Integra as a “luxury touring car”, but this particular vehicle is now a non-luxury, mobile pack-donkey designed only to take you to Circle K to buy Twizzlers and meat sticks, or take you to your miserable job and back.

In the past 40,000 miles, I’ve installed a new timing belt, radiator, some new hoses and a couple of spark plugs. The previous radiator blew at 230,000 miles with my mother in the car. The car was fine, but my mother had a heart attack. I no longer get birthday cards.

I have the oil changed every 4,000 miles or so. I used to take it to Minute Lube until some fucking inbred with a Lita Ford T-shirt figured out a way to charge me $60.00 for an oil change. I had to spend a week in a rape crisis center for that one. Minute Lube, kiss my ass.

This car will remind you of a street hooker. You look at it and you’ll be startled because it looks like it was just attacked by a pack of zebras. And like a hooker, you don’t know where it’s been or how it got here, and it’s best if you just don’t ask any questions about it’s history. I’m the fourth owner, I don’t have the answers, and I’m thankful.

Starting it up is like trying to wake up your drunk roommate for a Mother’s Day brunch. At first it’s angry and confused that you woke it up, and it tries to go back to sleep. Give it a little encouragement, and it gets up, but it gives you an attitude for about 30 seconds, like you had asked it to take out the garbage. Then it runs smooth as a man’s ass at a gay bar on a Saturday night.

Here is a COMPLETE list of the major flaws:

1. It has a cracked windshield. It has been cracked since I bought it, but you can see fine. The car also comes with a fake undated estimate I got from an auto glass store, so if you do get pulled over, you can show it to the cop and say you’re taking it in on Saturday, that was the earliest they could do it. It worked for me. Twice. I’m serious.

2. There is a slight dent on the right front fender. It is shoe-shaped, so I imagine this car has been traumatized by some sort of domestic violence, or was struck with a frying pan. Believe me, fixing this dent won’t fix this car’s appearance. That’d be like giving an 83- year old woman breast implants.

3. There is some petrified gum on the base of the emergency brake handle. I believe it is Hubba Bubba grape. It will remain there. Don’t fight it. You will lose.

4. The trunk opens from the inside, but not with the trunk lock. Either it is broken or the actual key is lost. Do not buy this car for transporting dead bodies.

5. Do you like scary noises? The antenna makes a horrifying noise when it goes up when you start the car. All squirrels within a 100 foot radius will instantly die from sheer terror. If you’re in a supermarket parking lot, people will point and laugh, especially the children. Children can be so cruel. If you have any pride, you will disconnect it.

6. You have to put water in the radiator about once a month. There are no leaks, and I don’t know where the water goes, but it gets low after a while. I believe it pees when I’m not looking.

7. The driver’s seat on the door side has lost a little material on the corner, so the foam is exposed. It looks like seat cleavage. If your wearing black, make sure you brush your ass off before tea parties.

8. The passenger front window, and the rear left window are both very slow going up and down. And by slow, I mean plant-growth slow.

Now lets see what this car offers:

It comes with an engine. If you open the hood, you will find an engine, which I believe makes the car go forward. The engine in this car is primarily composed of aluminum, hoses, screws, plugs, pipes, cams, refrigerator parts, and little lids all over the place. It may or may not contain a “valve”. I also heard that it has a “shaft”. There are lots of little containers in it for various liquids, such as oil, water, Orange Julius, brake juice, and other things my mechanic calls “fluids.” I am a huge pussy, I don’t know anything about cars. It had a small oil leak in the pan, but it was fixed, and this car leaks nothing but your sense of pride.

It comes with four round wheels and tires, and brakes, and axles in various states of use. I ran over a pigeon one night a year ago outside Ivar’s Fish n’ Chips, so the undercarriage may also contain a varying array of pigeon innards and undigested fried fish products. The steering is power steering, very nimble and quick, so you can be sure to steer clear of your neighbor’s cat if it runs out into the street. Or, if you prefer, steer into it.

Four seats, four doors, five gears, floor mats. Excellent interior, except for the hasty stereo installation job. It doesn’t look too bad, and could be fixed by purchasing a face support. No wires showing, though. The cloth on the interior passenger door is beginning to flap a little, but could be fixed with a small jug of middle-school edible child’s paste.

The CD stereo is very nice, with a retractable face that becomes invisible when the car is shut off. I believe this stereo is embarrassed to be in this car, that’s why it is able to hide itself so well, like an ostrich sticking it’s head in the sand. It doesn’t want other stereos to laugh at it. It sounds nice at mid to high level, but the front speakers need to be replaced, because at really high volume they don’t emit melodious music as much as they do violent, repetitive senior-care-facility fart noises.

The car contains $1.12 in small coins wedged in the driver’s seat by the seatbelt. I did a cost analysis, and wedging it out would only be worth $3.46 worth of my time, so you do the math. You could hire an unemployed person to do it. The change is American currency, and recovery will enable you to purchase many gumballs and plastic wagon wheels and other Chinese products at your local gumball stand.

The car comes with an original Acura handbook, which contains many comical pictures and explanations of some other car that isn’t related in any way to this car. It also has a picture of what this car looked like new, which is about as shocking as seeing that picture of your Mom in her high school year book. It also states this car was originally purchased in Oakland, California. Now I reside in a crappy apartment community along with 8,000 shitting pond birds in XXXXXX, Oregon, so this car must really feel like it’s moving up in life.

There is a dead fly on the panel behind the rear speakers. It appears to be very dry, and very dead, and I believe the car is currently absorbing the fly carcass for nutrients.

There is a spare tire in the trunk. I’ve never actually seen it, but I’ve owned Hondas and Acuras before, and there is always one there, so we’ll check when you are buying it. And it’s not one of those pussy temporary tricycle wheels that you see people driving around on, humiliating themselves. It’s a full-sized wheel.

Look, this car ain’t gonna get you chicks. It’s not a show car by any means, and the only thing it could ever win is Worst Paint. I do smoke in it, but it doesn’t stink like smoke, but how would I know, I’m a smoker. So don’t bitch about it. It’s not like it ruined the car. It was ruined already.

You may want to put a dog cone over your head when you drive it around. But it does run well, and it will get you where you need to go, probably for a long time. This car is impervious to the laws of nature, the laws of auto longevity, and the laws of physics. Like diarrhea in Mexico, you think it will stop soon, but it never does, it just keeps getting stronger.

You’re buying a car with 263,000 miles on it, so do I really need to say AS IS? You are buying it AS IS, and that means it is yours the minute you sign the title. If it breaks down, it’s not my problem, but I would more than welcome your mechanic to come look at it with you. I’ve been honest with you about all it’s problems, and right now, it runs just fine. I hope it does for a while, but I can’t guarantee anything, it’s an old car.

I will take the following as payment: US currency. No checks, no money orders, no bank checks, no personal checks, no Thai baht, no payment plans. No out-of-state shipping scammers, no Nigerian bank-account promises. You give me $1000, I give you the title.

Do not even bother to ask. CASH ONLY. And lastly, the price is as low as it’s going to go. It’s a fucking car, not a black and white television. It is $1000.00, period. It runs great. If you show up and say “Oh, I only brought $950”, you can take your $950 home with you without the car. I’m in no rush to sell it, because I’ll use it until it’s sold. I love this piece of crap.

And yes, I sold the car.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Shit On Me. But Lets Talk About It First.


32 years old. 6'0"/195 caucasian male is looking for- Attractive woman or group of women who wants- To humiliate a man by spitting, kicking, pissing on (golden shower) me, scat recieving is available upon previous discussion. Also any kind of oral, rimming, face sitting, mutual masturbation, Public golden showers or other public scenarious should be previously discussed.

It's nice to know that before one might drop a steaming load on this guys face, he wants to talk to you about it beforehand, perhaps to establish some personal boundaries regarding you crapping on his face or emitting a stream of white hot piss into his eyes.

Perhaps he'd like to meet you at the Four Seasons Hotel over a light healthy breakfast of rosemary tea with honey and a perfectly flaky croissant. There, pleasantries can be exchanged, and each of you could perhaps share in the delights of your children's photos. Maybe you could request an enjoyable song from the resident pianist, and talk about the memories the song evokes.

And once you're comfortable with each other, the relationship can progress by you force feeding him mule shit while you kick him in the balls in a Jack-In-The-Box parking lot.