Mr. BananaHammock’s smoky glare can rejuvenate your vagina

Normal posters on craiglist are getting so dull. No material. Drat. Never fear. A friend called attention to a recent article in the Washington Post on vaginal rejuvenation coming to the DC area. Vaginal rejuvenation a la Dr. 90210! I had to write an ad...

Waking up around seven AM this morning in my Adams Morgan compound, I glance up to the mirrors over my bed and take it all in -- muscle mass, density, ripped definition, intensity, stamina, endurance, mental focus, dignity, flair, and humility. I shower. While I am air drying I read the Washington Post and treat myself to a breakfast of Sea Turtle Eggs Benedict with Emperor Penguin bacon. I was it down with a glass of breakfast wine. I put on my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. I head out for the Orange Line for my morning commute.

When I hit the platform at Farragut West I notice that I am not alone. Tons of lovelies on the platform. I give them a few poses before the train arrives: Front Double Biceps, Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Back Double Biceps, and signature Back Lat Spread. You can tell they are getting hot. A brown haired woman nearly faints before she can grab for the ceiling of the train. I suspect my pheromones are overpowering her ability to balance. Others react differently. A green-eyed blond starts grinding her ass into my banana hammock and doesn’t stop until she gets off at Foggy Bottom. I give her my smoky glare. No doubt her vagina feels rejuvenated.

After work, I stop in at Tryst, flex for the ladies and grab an iced-double-half-calf-mocha-latte-something-or-another with a shot of baby fur seal Somatotrophin and settle into a big overstuffed couch with this week’s New Yorker Magazine. A woman stops by to talk. She wants to talk about my man on woman sensuality. She’s all, “as being fully functioning and very alive female I have burning sensuality. You might be coming on too strong.” I’m all, “Too strong? I’m toning it down babe.” She doesn’t fully understand. I know that women have their own burning sensualities. I’m not trying to sell a product like my image and style. I’m just trying to let the people know that there is me and there are the New Age milquetoast metrosexual denizens of craigslist. I give her my smoky glare. She says her vagina feels rejuvenated.

Eating exotic and endangered animals. Riding Metro. Vaginal Rejuvenation. That is what I am about. Forget the E! Network’s “Dr. 90210” and his expensive Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation procedure. Mr. BananaHammock’s smoky glare can rejuvenate your vagina for free.

He gets letters:

"Dude....You're a fucking riot. I'm sure your posting will bring you a gazillion responses. I just wanted to take the time to personally thank you for brightening an impossibly dreary day. You should seriously consider writing a Mr. BananaHammock screenplay and trying to sell it. You're hilarious."

"that was funny. it just was ..I know you can't be serious, but you made me smile. good job."

I am the guy who...

I am the guy who has the world's most active imagination! (permalink).

Enters the bar, scanning the room for ladies that need a little Mr. BH action. I am the guy whose head bobs in rhythm to music only I can hear as I twirl my chest hair with thumb and index finger. I’m in my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. And yes that my medallion of a Buddha Vitarka Mudra flanked by a couple of Bodhisattvas resting on my rock hard pecs is solid gold. I am the guy who sees you from across the bar with your friends. I am the guy who can intuit that you’re in serious need of the kind of hot animalistic man on woman sensuality that only I can provide...I am the guy who when our eyes connect, you are like a deer caught in headlights. You are mesmerized by my robust manliness as I approach ... I am the guy who orders Cadenhead's Old Raj Gin and Hybolin Decanoate…and for you an appletini ... I am the guy who you will come to find out later is a true romantic but for know we are intensely gazing into each other’s eyes... I am the guy who, while you’re not looking, slips a rohypnol into your drink because I am the guy who believes in love at first sight…I am also a guy who believes in chivalry so I will carry you back to my place when you pass out...I am the guy who, upon getting back to my place, will lay you gently in my bed and undress you...I am the guy who knows my confidence is a turn on for you unconscious or not… I am the guy who will then make love to you all night, videotaping everything so I can watch it later...I am the guy who puts you in a cab when you start to regain consciousness... I am this guy.

He gets letters:

"Ab fab!! Hilarious! By the way, you look incredibly like Rashid Karim!"

I'm THE Guy

He's this guy (permalink). I'm the other guy...

I'm the guy who approaches you in a crowded bar and the raw animalistic sexuality that I ooze is unescapable, much like gravity in a black hole.

I'm the guy who looking at your breasts while talking to you, my head bobbing up and down, thinking about how nicely my face is going to fit in between them later.

I'm the guy who, while your not looking, slips a rohypnol in your chocolatini and when your sufficiently out of it, I bring you back to my Adams Morgan Compound.

I'm the guy who, back at my place having sex with you from behind, I try to stick my dick in your ass and claim that I just “slipped” when you protest.

I'm the guy who of course lied about just “slipping.”

I'm the guy who be happy nailing your hot best friend...or both of you at the same time.

I'm the guy who has no problem telling you that your butt looks big in those jeans..

I'm the guy who'll whine when I don't get my way.

I'm the guy who is 36 years old.

I'm the guy who is 6 feet tall, 168 lbs.

I'm the guy who has brown hair and eyes.

I'm the guy who is looking for a SWF, 25-35 who might be looking to get laid.

He gets letters:

"How rich! I've been following you, Mr. Banana Hammock, for a while now and you always make me laugh. While I will never let you accidently on purpose slip it in the backdoor (one must always knock first and politely at that), I did feel compelled to finally write after seeing how irate the originally poster was. Clearly, if I know you, I've been trolling the M4W section on CL for a while but this exchange made me almost snort out my cocktail. Poor guy. He doesn't have a clue. If you ever need photoshopping assistance, just let me know. I'm no expert but I'm pretty handy in a pinch. And it appears that you have no shame...so you make a perfect subject!"

"Hey I am actually responding to ur ad for a friend of mine, she is a sweet girl, 19 very NICE ass (think Jennifer Lopez) very much in shape physically, I think ur approach to women could be good for her, would u be intereasted?"

"Funny shit, given my original post. Let me know if you get any responses." original poster

He gets cl M4W response:

"Thanks for ripping off my post. We'll see who gets more responses." original poster

Best First Date Idea Ever!!! - 36

I think mine sounds like more fun than his (permalink).

It could be a potentially bad idea, but it is worth a shot. I am a SWM, 36, erudite, employed, entertaining, endearing, selectively gentlemanly, blah blah blah.... One half of the reason I decided to post to Craigslist is because I could meet a nice girl, fall in love, get married, have kids, grow old, die, .

The other half of the reason is that I came up with the best first date idea ever and would need to have someone to take on this date. First we agree to meet at this really nice restaurant. I show up late. And drunk. I order for you. I’m rude to the waitress. I’m critical of whatever profession you are in. I mention something about how your butt looks big in whatever you are wearing. Further, I mention something about how I think that the proper role for women is chained to my stove, barefoot and pregnant. Intrigued, you don’t end the date there. From the restaurant we decide to go to a club and dance. We do shots of something. You don’t notice that I’ve slipped a ruffie in your drink, but at this point, it probably doesn’t matter much anyway as I’m probably too drunk to “get it up.” As you start to lose consciousness, I hustle you out of the club and into a cab to my apartment. At this point, I’m passing out, your passed out. We wake up in bed the next morning, both fully clothed, in a puddle of my vomit. You’ll notice that your bra is unhooked though, I’m good at that.

If your are interested let me know. I have never met anyone like this, but it is worth a shot. If you like me, that would be great. If you don't like me, that would be great too.

WARNING about this SWM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I tried to do this guy (permalink), but I think his genius was too much for me. Either that or I didn't have a lot of time to devote to it. Or perhaps some people are just beyond satire.

WARNING to all ladies. If you want to go out me, be prepared to have a time like no any other that you've ever had. Period. It's not like going out with any guy you've ever been out with before. Words can barely describe the going out with me experience. But I'll try. Here goes. We go out to dinner - I'll pay. But you better not be ordering no lobster. About me - besides having a full time day job, I read books on the side, download "barely legal" porn and masturbate, and I go to bed kinda early. That keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. Downloading internet porn is a lot of fun. I have a tons of the stuff, internet porn "stuff" that is. I started downloading internet porn a couple of years ago, however - most of my close friends also download internet porn (when were not playing Everquest that is). I'm getting pretty good at "Rockin the House" so to speak. Nowadays, if I am not reading or downloading internet porn - I am generally sleeping, just kiddin. Sometimes I'm watching TV. I'm seriously looking for @#$, since I don't have a chick that gives that up when I want it, but if you're always trippin, smoking, puffing, or drinking I don't care as long as it is in moderation. Never tellin when you're in your right frame of mind might be a problem. You know what I'm sayin . . .

Check out this wild story. I never thought it would happen to me. So I'm in this bar, ok? And there's this totally, totally hot babe, right? Smokin' hot. And like, I've had a few miller lites so I'm all bold, ok? So I order another miller lite and walk over to her, right? Well turns out she's been downing appletinis for the last four hours or so, totally pissed off about some guy, dig? I don't want to hear about the guy, but the situation? I figure I'm in there, totally! I go over all suave and and introduce myself and she, like, totally gives me the once over and smiles! I'm thinking I'm totally in. All the way. She orders a couple more appletinis and we clink glasses and down them. Next thing I know, four or five more appletinis later, she's like, "Let's get out of here." So we take off. We hail a cab and I'm checking her out and she's totally checking me out, ok? Long legs, titties, great ass. Really hot, ok? I mean superfine hottie hottness. Cab takes us to her place, and she invites me up, right? Score! So I'm in the apartment, beer in hand, she's acting all sexy-like. It's hot! My head's spinning, she's totally hot, everything's hot, ok? Next thing I know, it's, like, seven in the morning, my breath smells like vomit, and there's a note pinned to my jacket asking me to lock the door when I leave. I'm still dressed and really have no idea what, if anything happened. How cool is that!

Now I could write a whole lot more and philosophize on dude ladies, lady ladies, woman ladies, tomboy ladies, but I won't. Not today. You probably wouldn't understand it anyway. Besides, I gotta go prep my dinner.

Not saying I am going to get any responses, but if I do - please attach a picture for a reply.

He gets letters:

"lol, ok so why r u on CL??? More pics?"

I am the guy

He might be this guy. I am this other guy....

You notice from across the bar...I am the guy who although our eyes only connect briefly, the connection was made...You immediately sense my raw animal magnetism…You sense a guy of power, a guy of purpose, a guy who seduces with a glance, a guy who can bend spoons with his mind, a guy who can cycle through over 200 cable channels on a remote without ever settling on a single channel. A guy unlike any other…I am the guy who will tell you those jeans make you look fat…I am the guy whose eyes will glaze over if you have me up at 2am sitting on the couch with you, drinking wine and talking about everything from the color of your nail polish to your family values...I am the guy who will tell you semen is good for your complexion and is even more effective ingested rather than worn on your face...I am the guy who will have your bra off without you even noticing...I am the guy who knows that sexy is you not talking so much...I am the guy who will purposefully slip it in your butt when we’re doggie style but claim it was only an accident...I am the guy who probably won’t call you back...I am the guy who will want you to fetch me a beer from the fridge while I am watching football...I am the guy who knows how to manipulate your self-esteem issues to get what I want...I am the guy who hits on your friends when I am drunk...I am the guy who will pull the covers over your head, fart, and scream “Dutch Oven!”...I am the guy who will tell make inappropriate comments to your folks, like how good in the sack you are...I am the guy who will get lost and will refuse to ask for directions...I am the guy who once put an X-Wing fighter up for sale on Craigslist even though I don’t own one...I am the guy who photoshops...poorly...I am the guy who doesn’t suffer fools...I am the guy that will put on a pretty good act until you are in love, then I will change...

I am this guy

I Am the Guy Who...

A rewrite homage to you, mister strong yet sensitive...

You notice as you enter Angles in Adams Morgan just before midnight.

Through the dim lights, the sound of screaming drunk guys from Maryland or Virginia and Carpenters on the jukebox, you walk to an empty wooden stool and sit down...casually glancing to your left, you notice Him, though before seeing Him, you feel Him.

Your eyes focus in the dim lights, the bar candles flickering, the mellifluous voice of Karen Carpenter… "Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby? You said you'd be coming back this way again baby. Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh, baby. I love you, I really do.” Him. You notice Him. He's quietly singing along. A tear rolls down his cheek. He's sensitive. He's also at least 6 feet tall, but shorter sitting down, boney girl arms, and from the eyes you see, a man of depth, a man of passion, a man whose probably had one too many Miller Lites. His brown hair adds the perfect accent to the dancing candle light and shimmers on his lime green leisure suit and yellow buffalo shirt.

It’s the eyes…they capture you with their depth. Instantly you know this man is one of power, purpose, raw sexual magnetism, of, dare I say, taste and being accustomed to the finer things in life. A man who probably knows how to do the hustle as well as the white man’s overbite. Maybe even the Robocop and the Smurf.

Your casual glance leads your eyes to lap. The bunch of fabric at his crotch leads you to believe this is a guy that uses his penis pump every single day. Not only for You but also for Him.

Your eyes meet, and despite his boney girl arms, you know his eyes are not those of a frail girly man, but one of mental focus, savage intensity, and strength. A man practiced in the finer arts of man on woman sensuality.

Slight smiles are exchanged and your heart skips a beat when you hear him say a simple “wanna do it in the bathroom?” through his eyes.

You know instinctively He is one of those who has power....the power to hire and fire at will, move objects with his mind, the power to snatch the remote from your hands and channel surf, never landing on a single channel, but cycling through all 150 channels over and over and over and over.

Powerful but sensitive. Especially when too many Miller Lites he's had. He has a weakness for the Carpenters. That he also probably got misty near the end of "She's Having a Baby," when Kevin Bacon thinks something might have happened to Elizabeth McGovern or the baby in childbirth or on that episode of "Little House on the Prairie" when Mary loses her eyesight. Or maybe even recently during "Happy Gilmore" when Adam Sandler saves grandma's house.

His voice flows across the table past you, as he orders a drink from the waitress. A firm voice this man has...definitely one who commands respect...and who knows how to be in charge. You look at him closer...he must be in his late 20s, but perhaps early 30s...not sure.

You know he is not one to simply charge at every woman He sees. To most he is just a friend, to some a confidant, and to a rare few: paramour.

A waitress places a drink before you. Puzzled you look up at her since you’d not ordered a thing. With a finger she points to Him. And as smile crosses your face you are momentarily distracted as he deftly slips a Rohypnol into your Appletini.

The Scene...

His Scene. My Scene...

The scene....

You enter Angles in Adams Morgan just before midnight.
Through the dim lights, the sound of screaming drunk frat guys and Journey on the jukebox, you walk to an empty wooden stool and sit down...casually glancing to your left, you notice Him, though before seeing Him, you feel Him
.
Your eyes focus in the dim lights, the bar candles flickering, the mellifluous voice of Stephen Perry…”Ain't always what it's supposed to be, Oh girl you stand by me, I'm forever yours...faithfully.” He's at least 6 feet tall, but shorter sitting down, boney girl arms, and from the eyes you see, a man of depth, a man of passion, a man whose probably had one too many Miller Lites. His brown hair adds the perfect accent to the dancing candle light and shimmers on his lime green leisure suit and yellow buffalo shirt.

It’s the eyes…they capture you with their depth. Instantly you know this man is one of power, purpose, raw sexual magnetism, of, dare I say, taste and being accustomed to the finer things in life. A man who probably knows how to do the hustle as well as the white man’s overbite.

Your casual glance leads your eyes to lap. The bunch of fabric at his crotch leads you to believe this is a guy that uses his penis pump every single day.

Your eyes meet, and despite his boney girl arms, you know his eyes are not those of a frail girly man, but one of mental focus, savage intensity, and strength. A man practiced in the finer arts of man on woman sensuality.

Slight smiles are exchanged and your heart skips a beat when you hear him say a simple “wanna do it in the bathroom?” through his eyes.

You know instinctively He is one of those who has power....the power to hire and fire at will, move objects with his mind, the power to snatch the remote from your hands and channel surf, never landing on a single channel, but cycling through all 150 channels over and over and over and over.

His voice flows across the table past you, as he orders a drink from the waitress. A firm voice this man has...definitely one who commands respect...and who knows how to be in charge. You look at him closer….he must be in his late 20s, but perhaps early 30s…not sure.

You know he is not one to simply charge at every woman He sees. To most he is just a friend, to some a confidant, and to a rare few; more.

A waitress places a drink before you. Puzzled you look up at her since you’d not ordered a thing. With a finger she points to Him. And as smile crosses your face you are momentarily distracted as he deftly slips a Rohypnol into your Appletini.



He gets letters:

"Well played!"

Fun,laughs,this guy is tired of the bar scene

Someone explain this one to me. If the bar scene hasn't been working so well for you, why do you want to hang out in bars so much?

The bar scene hasn't been the best place to meet my special someone so I thought I'd give this a try. I am looking for a low maintenance lady to go to happy hours at a minutes notice, likes bars, enjoys the bars, or can turn it up a notch and hit the bars. I will not lie and say looks do not matter because they do. Your going to have to be hot with a bangin' bod. You can be fine hanging out with your girls and don't mind if I am with mine friends at times at the bars.

I am 6ft 1in. Brown hair and eyes. Athletic build. I love to laugh, tell jokes, very social, and I think I'm a great catch when I've been drinking. And smart too. I am sure people say they are attractive all the time on this and I will not be any different. I am a good looking German Scottish French mutt. We can exchange pic's later.

He gets letters:

"that was funny. i like that. i too, have a love affair with the bar."