Easter by Mr. Banana Hammock (not Omari)

It seems a bit hollow to me that Jesus' dad let Jesus die for our sins. My sins? vodka, cigarettes, barely legal porn, and premarital sex. I don't count masturbation as a sin since the fundies started saying that you should worship your body like a temple and I've had to worship that temple a lot recently.

Easter is apparently named after the pagan goddess Eostre, an Anglo-Saxon maiden-goddess of fertility. Primitive cultures found this to be a very sacred and holy thing, and have honored Eostre in many ways down through recorded history. And, as one might expect, it has been invariably symbolized by the rebirth of a dead deity.

The name Eostre or Oestre in Latin apparently derives from the Greek, and has it's roots in a word that means "frenzy." We see this word again in English in "estrus," meaning a female mammal 'in heat' and able to conceive, and if anybody has encountered a female in estrus, let me tell you...they are frenzied.

In my family, Easter is a celebration of a certain animal from the family of leporids who leave chocolate candy and hard boiled eggs as treats. I don't eat chocolate generally so I generally gave them to my crazy sister. Also we color the hard boiled eggs. Later, before the ham dinner, we strip naked, go out in the woods, dance around a tree, and offer to dye the pubic hair of the young women that would walk by my house singing their fertility songs or regularly ranting about not "getting any."

Mr. Bananahammock says "Be my Valentine, Bitch!"

~ flagged and removed by craigslist "bitches" ~

Good or Bad Idea? Normal Only Please.

Man seeks Catholic at Ruth's Chris Steak House on a Friday (permalink).

Hi,

I was reading through the ads this morning and I am wondering if this might be a place to meet a single normal female. Someone who would like to dress up in furry costumes and frolic in Rock Creek Park, maybe play tennis naked, or have an old fashioned Eskimo face-pulling competition, whatever, just hang out and see how things develop. Do normal people read these things or am I alone out here?

Well here is the vital info about me if you normal people are reading this. I am a single white male, never married and no children, looking for a LTR with a normal woman. I am normal. I am in descent shape and am about 6'1" tall, wish I could say 6'2” but not quite. I am honest, normally. If you are interested drop me a note and let's see what the next year has in store for us.

Merry Christmas.

SWM for Arm Candy Pretend Wife to Take to T-Day Supper with my Parents

Turkey-Day Special!!!

Well...I'm not all alone, I do have my folks to celebrate with, but my mom bugs me all the time about being married, having kids, you know? So the other week I tell her I'd eloped a couple of months ago, not really thinking about the consequences, i.e. the holidays. So they've come to town for Thanksgiving weekend.

I'm looking for attractive and intelligent woman, height weight proportionate. Maybe someone with a good job. Or can make something up about a cool job. Also someone with values. I've got strong values.

Well that's good enough for now. Anybody who's interested go ahead and email me. Dinner is at 4PM. Talk to you soon, pretend arm candy wife!

Mr. BH honors the good work that Columbus did

I find myself having the day off. My superb memo went through regarding observing the Columbus Day holiday and the good work that Columbus did to bringing western culture and values to the native populations of this new world. Relaxing and reading the paper I take a sip of my glass of breakfast wine, naked and air drying, I take my morning supplement, Pump Tech™, which I can report has led to even better pumps, jacked up my Nitric Oxide levels, increased my vascular response, and has my muscles blown up like balloons.

I decide to figure out what to do with my day. Chilly morning, I slip commando-style into my Carla Behrle leather pants. Blue Armani flannel shirt with the arms pre-ripped off to accommodate my gigantic biceps. The shirt fits like a glove, taught across my ripped pecs. Armani has designed a series of flannel shirts with the arms pre-ripped off for yours truly and others who appreciate a good pump. I have modeled them on runways from Bethesda to Silver Spring to Rockville, in part out of gratitude to Armani for thinking of yours truly, and in part as a cross promotional opportunity for MuscleTech® supplements, such as CELL-TECH™ and ACETABOLAN III® since high government officials in Maryland are interested in importing my image and style. I put on my brown framed Jean LaFont frames with orange tinted lenses (to better stalk my prey), and head out of my Adams Morgan Compound.

I figure I'll stop off at Tryst for a half-caf-frap-mocha-something-or-another and entertain the waiting ladies with a series of poses: Front Double Biceps, Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Back Double Biceps, and Back Lat Spread. My specially designed Armani flannel has just enough give and survives to poses. I wink with a double point with a trigger finger to a few swooning lovelies before walking back to my Adams Morgan compound.

Me you ask? High fashion. Total fitness and power. Product endorsement. Superior posing. Honoring dead guys with a day off. Dignity. That is what I am about. And if you think you can handle the sublime beauty and hyper-erotic nature of my version of man on woman sensuality, you know where to get in touch.

He gets letters:

"Not so much fun to read without your cute face at the bottom, Monsieur."

My Plans...

For today only: hella cool guy, 34, kicking it old school (permalink)...

Well with everyone I know either visiting their folks, out of town, or out of town visiting their folks, I'm hanging around the house with nothing to do but think about stuff. And what I thought I'd do would be to kick it “70s style.” So, to all you super foxy bunnies...I'm chilln' at the pad and icin' a bottle of Champale, can you dig it?

I know, you want to get down wit da boogie wit me all day and all night cause I have bitchin' threads and I'm one cool cat.

So if you have any hope of having an outta sight time today, you'll send me a e-mail with a pic. No longer jive turkey-friendly.

He gets letters:

"you are cool like dat"

"I love it!!! You seem like a funny ass dude....So whats good w/ the Champale baby? I can dig it!!! LMAO LOL LOL!!!"

Mr. Banana Hammock is feeling the Easter spirit

Happy Easter.

I can't color your eggs, but how about a festive Easter basket?

(flagged and removed by the craigslist community)

A Special Pre-Holiday Greeting from Mr. Banana Hammock

Shout out to Mark Leyner, the Phantom of the Bordello, and all the little people that made this post possible....We did it Baby!

Important meeting later today. I put on Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. My nipples are hard from the chill morning air. Jean LaFont glasses with orange tinted frames to better stalk my prey. I head to the orange line, Farragut West to Dunn Loring, thankful that Spring has arrived.

Hitting the platform in stride I notice a plethora of lovelies. Cracking my neck, I give them my smoky stare with one eyebrow raised, oozing raw sexuality. I launch into a series of poses: Front Double Biceps, Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Back Double Biceps, and signature Back Lat Spread. One woman faints. Another lunges at my banana hammock, her eyes wild and fixated on my bald-headed giggle stick. I brush her aside. I don't countenance inappropriate public behavior on Metrorail in DC. Maybe they behave that way in Clarendon or Crystal City, but not downtown. A third lovely approaches. Impressed with my posing, she wants me to autograph her breasts with my Mr. Sharpie. Luckily, I have it on me today and am happy to oblige.

Arriving at work, I meet with my lawyers who assure me that the property rights for my image and style will be well protected and that I will be generously compensated for my endorsements of Hugger-Mugger Yoga Products, MuscleTech® supplements, such as CELL-TECH™ and
ACETABOLAN III®, and feminine hygiene products like the menstrual cup and, designed by yours truly and available just in time for Easter, a new line of festive pubic hair dyes.

Me you ask? Posing on Metro. Signing breasts with a permanent marker. Feminine hygiene. That is what I am about. And if you are tired of the New Age Milquetoasts who frequent craigslist M4W, you know where to write.

Seeking that spark? Mr. Banana Hammock don't got it.

That is right. No spark. No dazzle. "No shit?" you say. I'm in a new job and I don't find the time to write much anymore. But I am looking for a date, hopefully leading up to another date to my new job's X-mas party on December 3, or so I am led to believe, at some country club in VA (god help us my staff is arranging the DJ). I promise to be charming as always, and reasonably fit and sane. You be likewise. If I don't have to explain why a sibling of mine (before you meet her - the explanation is there) would deign to marry three Jasons I will be impressed (although it is a good story). Attached is a year-old picture of my youngest niece and me from last X-mas (not the same kind of party).



He gets letters:

"I just wanted to say your posts are just about the only thing worth reading in the CL personals. I hope you have time to post more soon. You've been missed!"