this may upset ppl with enormous man crushing gigantic breast

Challenged speller, boob lover, seeks seeks women who don't have boobs of A-cup or less(?) to fulfill fantasy(?) (permalink)...

but please ppl with enormous man crushing gigantic breast don't send me emails calling me names like, for example, sexist small breast liker or chauvinist piggie admirer of smaller non-man crushing gigantic breast and what not...
any ways,
I want to meet someone with with smaller breast. I know this sounds a bit weerd but just hear me out first...

It's just that the last several women Ive been with have all had enormous man crushing gigantic breast, i.e. they were overstocked in the breast dept. I beleave I was man crushed by all their breast...

normally I do not care about getting man crushed (obviously) but I am actually a bit picky about the physical qualities of my women (I like attractive and thin), but after a while I would like to meet someone who plays to my fantasies a bit, is that really so wrong? Im only human after all...

I'm not asking for women with non-enormous, non-man crushing non-gigantic breast.

I promise Im not a creep and Im not bad to look at., I have pictures to back it up. but only if you have pics too (face pics). Right now I have a pictures of a foot to show how endowed I am in my foot.

He said, "to all my plus size hoes i luv you big hoes lets start a flame, hit me you plus size diva!"

I'm sure he got a date. I didn't when I introduced...

slim, petite hoes for me please...That's just how I roll...

He gets letters:

"Guess you can keep on rolling all alone, just like you are.

Didn’t your mama teach you respect for women? We don’t like to be called Hoes! Maybe if you didn’t consider women hoes, you would have one and or even better get something better than a hoe.

Hell, forget what I just said. Maybe you deserve a HOE.

Have a great life."

George looking for his Martha

Only for the literarily delusional. I want to disguise myself as an animal and rape you? I don't get it (permalink).

If you're a spoiled, self-indulgent, willful, dirty-minded, liquor-ridden bi-atch who is loud and vulgar and you wear the pants in the house because somebody's got to, then you’re for me!

I'm a single white male who is looking for a relationship with an open minded female.

- You can drink me under any goddam table.
- You are an Earth Mother and we’re all flops
- I make you puke
- I will hold your hand when it's dark and you're afraid of the boogeyman and I will tote your gin bottles out after midnight so no one can see but I will not light your cigarette.

Oh, and you might want to wear something stain resistant on our date.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Oh, I’m also 6’ and about 172 lbs of sweet sweet lovin’.

He gets letters:

"I'm just responding to tell you how funny this was to me. You have a great since of humor, hope someone gets it. Good luck."

It's a lot like life

Let's play master and servant...(permalink).

You are a woman. A woman who desires to be with a strong man. I am a strong man. Perhaps I am the strong man you desire to be with? Strong in the sense that he can lift heavy things with relative ease. Strong in the sense that movies like "Love Story" will not make him cry. Strong in the sense that he is there to lead the relationship. You will follow.

He leads with the common sense to initiate communication on matters that affect the heart; you will trust him when he tells you to “shut up”; he leads by discouraging your weakness; he leads by the simple fact that you follow; he leads by affirming your femininity and knowing full well that he has the last word on matters (because after all you’re just a girl); he leads by proper spelling and the semicolon; he leads knowing that humbling himself by making mistakes or dancing poorly does not make his weak in your eyes but strengthens your love for him otherwise he’ll beat you; and finally he leads by satisfying your erogenous areas with his patented sexual techniques that are guaranteed to make you warble like a woodcock and shudder like a poorly tuned diesel engine. Employing bad similes, he leads.

10 Inches of Max Thrust

I’m Max Thrust. Lobbyist for the Free Speech Coalition. My suit? Corneliani Couture ($8750). Shirt? Tino Cosma ($365). Tie and pocket square? Zanella ($320 and $85 respectively). My belt? Salvatore Ferragamo ($130). I slip on my $16,000 Alviero Martini 1 Classe watch.

As you may have noticed, I’m in all Italian couture today. I feel self-assured, cultivated, refined, discreet, but equally recognizable: free enough to be able to reject clichés and sure enough to embody a personal style that is never predictable. The classic elegance I am projecting goes beyond the definitions of formal wear or sportswear, because it reflects a single taste and sensitivity that I put into the various activities that are part of my life.

Today’s activity was a briefing with the staff of the House Judiciary Committee, something about the Committee wanting to introduce legislation banning barely legal porn. What gives? They may look younger than 18, but that is the point. And anyway, “barely legal” IS legal. Just barely.

After this event I was scheduled to attend a fundraiser/lunch with the Chairman of the House Judiciary Committee, Don Chalmers, who represents my home state. Anyway, I’m imagining a gossip-fueled meal of steak and martinis at Charlie Palmer, so I tuck a couple of $500 10” Ramon Allones Tubos into my pants pocket. Anybody in this industry will tell you that size does indeed matter. And what’s a steak without a good cigar, anyway?

Anyway, I was up at Rayburn waiting in the security line, and I’m detained by security for carrying a “suspicious item,” whatever that means. I’m then taken aside and frisked by a female police officer. I tell her, “finding anything you like?” and “Yes it’s real...can you handle 10 inches...I’d love to see you wrap your lips around it...would you like to take a puff.” Stuff like that. The security guard, playing hard to go get, hauls me away for questioning.

What gives? I understand that even though the morality policy in DC no longer allow smoking, the ritual of the sucking on a good cigar is key to the whole lobbyist/congressperson bonding experience.

He gets letters:

"I love you. Will you marry me?"

Have I made it??

Yes. You sir have made it alright (permalink).

I went out last night, only to be confronted by very angry women, who were probably on their period or lesbians or feminists or something.....I'm a human being after all....we make mistakes......why can't people realize that? It's not like I seek out opportunities to hurt other people's feelings.

Anyway, I also went out to celebrate my new pay raise. I'm making like 7 figures (at least if you count the figures after the decimal point)....... a year. I'm the first person in my family to obtain a Masters Degree though my dad has an MD and my uncle has an honorary Ph.D. from his alma mater though his alma mater doesn't have an accredited graduate program (go figure), but it is a true statement that I'm the first person in my family to have a Master's Degree but those are frankly a dime a dozen in this town, but am I happy?....Umm....anyway, I'm talking to these angry man hating lesbian feminists who were out at the bar last night and were all extra mad and crampy because of their periods and I mention my seven figure salary and the fact that I'm totally highly educated and that I have a nice car and stuff and that I think that those jeans that they're wearing make their butts look big (all of their butts, mind you) and they cop attitude. What gives?

Anyway.... I'm not going out on the town anymore..... Only place I'll be going is around the town. Time to get in shape.... for a battle..... against militant crampy lesbian man-hating feminists.

TTFN

Snippets of a Relationship - 2.0

Retread and Update...

Driving day-trips down leaf-covered country roads, me driving and singing along off-key, at the top of my voice to Belle and Sebastian, Rilo Kiley, and Neko Case. You laughing at me, hair in the wind, bare feet up on the dash. Me screaming at you, “Get your fucking feet off my dash. The upholstery is light beige you know…”

Me, “No, we’re not lost. And no, I’m not stopping at that gas station for directions.” You, arms crossed and scowling…

You, “Why do have to be so passive aggressive?” Me, later, cleaning the toilet with your toothbrush…

You, “Let’s go see Dream Girls tonight.” Me, “You’re joking, right? Right? Right?”…

Us having sex. Me behind. You, “Ow! Watch it. I told you no anal.” Me, lying, “Sorry. It was an accident…”

Again, us having sex. Me behind. Me, “Boy, that is one big pimple. Does it hurt?” Me, poking at it with my index finger.

You, getting dressed. Me. Groping your breasts. You, putting on your make-up. Me, groping your breasts. You, driving. Me groping your breasts. You, watching The Office. Me, groping your breasts…

Me, “Ever seen a one-eared elephant?” You, “No.” Me, turning the pocket of my jeans inside out while my penis is hanging out of the fly. Your mother not looking very amused…

Breakfast before work. You complaining about something work related and seeking comfort. Me providing constructive advice. You getting angry. Me saying “What?”…

Reading to/doing crossword puzzles with each other in bed. I fart and pull the covers over your head, trapping you underneath. Me laughing. You really pissed off…

You, “The computer is crashing again. Were you looking at porn?” Me, again lying, “It’s not me. It’s that damn Microsoft. Let’s get a Mac…”

Me, “Wanna have sex?” You, “I’ve got my period.” Me, “How about a blow job then?”…

Cooking together, me telling you to get out of my kitchen, you’re not doing it right, you sulking and watching the TV, trying not to cry...

Shopping together, you trying on 14,000 different pairs of jeans, me holding your purse getting really fed up, wishing I was anywhere but here, but preferably watching a football game...

If my idea of a great relationship can be condensed into a series of non sequiturs, these would be some of the images you might see. I’m 6’ and 172 and pure fun. I’d prefer a woman with her head screwed on straight, but never having actually met one, I’m not too picky in that department.

He gets letters:

"that is one of the most interesting ads ever. Well, not all of it -the part where you are cleaning the toilet with the toothbrush sounds really really scary eeew eeww!"

"your ad made me simultaneously want to kiss you and throttle you. i hope its the former and not the latter though. drinks, hookah, soup?"

Women are just plain superdooperficial

Wow. Bitterness. How's that workin' for you? (permalink).

You cannot disagree with me because it is the truth. Look it up. Women are just plain superdooperficial. I am not the greatest looking guy in the world but I am probably second best. I am a real catch. Intelligent, tall, and fast. I can run circles around you. Literally. You will take one look at me and imagine what it is like being with me. My icy stare will make your uterus will ache. Your parents will love me. More than you probably. You will desire my man-love raining down on you. Too bad you cannot have me. I value beauty inside as well.

Looking for a one night stand that might lead to more.

Very high ick factor. Thanks, fellow in snark, for pointing this guy out to me (permalink). I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

MY RULES


1. First we soak in my champagne flute-shaped hot tub so this way we know we are each clean
2. We wear protection. I wear a raincoat. You wear galoshes
3. We climb into my big round rotating bed. It has satin sheets and mirrors so we can watch ourselves makin’ “it”
4. My sheet are clean except for a small blood stain which happened when I hit my head on my vanity while my bed was rotating…ouch that hurt
5. You live close to me because I’m lazy
6. You can spell finished. shepherd, and fetuses
7. You like indie rock and other forms of music
8. Hoobastank is not indie rock or even another form of music
9. You are not married
10. You’re a cute, intelligent, female of average to thin build
11. You wear socks under your galoshes (or not), it is up to you
12. If you’re answering any phone calls while we have sex I must not be doing something right
13. No answering the door while we have sex unless you are under 5’2” and 120lbs. I probably cannot carry more than that over a long distance while we are having sex
14. No mental cases who try to get a restraining order on me after I dump them. I broke up with you after all. Why would I bother stalking?
15. No other mental cases either. You know who you are
16. You can make smell of female funk in my apartment but keep in mind my apartment smells mostly of man funk and those Glade® PlugIns® things. I believe the current scent is “Suddenly Spring™” or something like that.
17. We will oral each other (or not). I’m big on rules.
18. After sex we can lie in bed and watch a DVD or something or order Chinese or pizza or sushi.
19. Email or phone ok
20. Picture appreciated
21. If you think I am handsome or something let me know. I like compliments
22. BONUS if you like guys who smoke. I’m trying to quit, but I’m not quite there yet. See #15 above
23. BONUS if you are a glasses-girl
24. BONUS if you are an indie rock girl
25. If you want to record, I’ve got a digital camera. I insist on writing the dialogue though
26. I’m won’t do the “bend-over-boyfriend thing” but you can stick your finger in my butt if you wish. I won’t try to guilt you about trying anal sex.
27. You don’t need to be perfect. I’m not. Though I prefer thinner women.
28. My coworkers called me self-absorbed the other day. I replied that it reminded me of the time where I was having sex in my rotating bed and I was checking out my hair in the mirrors and this girl said, “you are so self-absorbed.” Truth be told, we were making a movie with my camera and I thought that I wanted my hair to look good. I had written some great dialogue and I was filming this movie. I had forgotten to check my hair before I started to “roll film” and I was just making sure my hair looked good. What’s the big deal?

NUDE PICTURES SENT TO ME will be used in fantasy masturbation scenarios. Just warning you...

The Daily "Chain you to my Kitchen Stove" Search Update...

Mr. Needle in a Haystack (see below) is at it again. I respond...

barefoot and pregnant...

October 20th Update: So, I'm almost getting more responses than I can count that high let alone reply to. At last count I ran out of fingers and toes yesterday alone. So I’ve received more than I have fingers and toes. I have the regular amount of fingers and toes if you’re all curious.

But, obviously, I'm still writing this update, so that "One of a Kind" is still out there.

Today, all I wanted to say is that yesterday I posted, and I quote, “I can walk into a room full of angry people and they will all stop being angry and will love and adore me. Small birds alight on my outstretched arms when I’m in Rock Creek Park. Squirrels and raccoons will nuzzle my feet. I’m really good at parallel parking. So good in fact pedestrians erupt in spontaneous cheering when I do. I’ve won the Nobel Prize for “outstanding achievements in the pursuit of excellence.” The laws of physics don’t apply to me.”

This statement is entirely true. In addition, though I would like to add that high government officials have recently asked me to solve the crisis in the Middle East with my smoldering good looks. I’ve played tennis naked while people cheered my grace and dignity on the court. People, who don’t even know me, stop me on the street and ask me questions. Questions like, “when did you become so fantastic or were you born that way?” or “you have great hair, can I copy your hairstyle?” and even “how do I get to the zoo?” I’ve also been favorably compared to Jesus AND the Dalai Lama.


*Previous update and original posting below*

Hope everyone's having a great day!

Updated! “One of a Kind.” Old-fashioned, Superlatively Gorgeous...

Updated! Self-described "unique" 27 year-old maybe only unique in his view of women, circa 1950s I guess...(permalink).

You know how most people say they're looking for a "One of a Kind" lady or some other awfully cliché comment like I’m looking for a "Needle in a Haystack"? Well, in my case I truly think it's appropriate.

I genuinely think that the girl I'm looking for is most likely one in a trillion or maybe she never even has exited or even she might only exist in my imagination or maybe she exists on some barely legal porn website. Or maybe I could look at myself in the mirror and then imagine myself with boobies and long hair and NO ambition but to please me! Wow! That paradox has my head spinning. It’s like going back in time and meeting yourself. What would happen? Would the universe implode?

A little dramatic? Sure, maybe. But let me explain, and then you'll see....

For starters, I'm a tall, very attractive and fit 37 year old guy. I've got a super job, a super apartment, a ficus AND a spider plant (which in my humble opinion are pretty super as far as plants go) and am about as outgoing, sociable and fun as they come. I love travelling, spelling, exploring new places and trying new things. I like dancing the YMCA! I've dated models, psychotic bloggers, hill rats, and drama queens... but ultimately just want to meet the girl I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. I don't want anything short term, no meaningless flings, just "The One." Think of George and Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.”

Life is just better with a yes-man, er woman, in my corner. I hate all this "independence" garbage that is preached about constantly by feminists and others. I've driven across the country once with someone, but was wearing headphones so it seemed like I was alone. I can walk into a room full of angry people and they will all stop being angry and will love and adore me. Small birds alight on my outstretched arms when I’m in Rock Creek Park. Squirrels and raccoons will nuzzle my feet. I’m really good at parallel parking. So good in fact pedestrians erupt in spontaneous cheering when I do. I’ve won the Nobel prize for “outstanding achievements in the pursuit of excellence.” The laws of physics don’t apply to me.

What's the next catch? Well, I also know myself extremely well. I’d say better than anyone else for that matter. I'm about as old-fashioned a 37 year old as you’ll find. I want a 50’s style relationship, where I come first.

Now, what exactly does that mean? Well, once my wife and I get married and have kids, my wife won't be working any more for starters. Working outside of the home is not only bad for the kids, it’s also bad for the relationship. She might meet someone at work or the fact that she has her own money would make it easier for her to leave me. Remember, this is the 50’s and nobody gets divorced. It also means all the old-fashioned and outdated stuff that society has come to tell everyone is not politically correct anymore too. Like if you sass me, I’ll take out my belt. Or you have an opinion, I’ll take out my belt. Or if you don’t keep the place clean or fetch me beers fast enough, well, you know the drill.

I think the guy needs to be the head of the household. I think he needs to be the protector, the provider, the person who metes out punishments, and when it comes right down to it the guy who leads the family.

My problem is my whole life I've dated "trophy wife types." It's a Catch-22, or another poorly used cliché, because I'm only physically attracted to trophy wife types. And unfortunately, in this day and age, it is damn hard to change people.

I really just want a super attractive, mindless, person. Isn’t it evident I only care about your looks yet? One that'll quit working once there's kids. One that'll always be at my side. One that'll let me take care of everything simply because she trusts that I'm going to always take care of everything.

And on the occasions when I do make a decision that turns out badly... one that stands by my side and is supportive no matter what. Because my opinions are the only one’s that matter.

I'm 6'1" and 169lbs, good shape and a trendy, in an old fashioned, flannelly, Michigan sort of way, and superlatively gorgeous overall. I've got dozens and dozens of pictures sitting here on my comp, and I’ll show you one of “mine” first. Then you can show me “yours.”

Looking forward to meeting "You".

Men Suck...

Hello. My name is XXXX and I am an ass. Hi XXXX! (permalink).

I know this as a fact because I indeed am a man. I am highly educated, independently wealthy, and in superb physical condition. You might call me a sophisticate. I know how to spell big words like salubrious and sebaceous, know what they mean, and can use them in a sentence:

The man considered himself salubrious in spite of the numerous sebaceous cysts growing from his neck.

I expect a lot from a woman I court and I will not tolerate being second or third. I expect this woman to be sufficiently commodious to my wants and needs and to be respectfully worshipful of yours truly. You will know every thought as it crosses my mind because I have no impulse control or boundaries. If you displease me once, you are reprimanded. If you displease me twice, you are history. If you think you are attractive and have a great body and can please me the way a man deserves to be pleased by an attractive woman with a great body then you may respond. Please don't waste my time and yours if you don't have the goods: 1) attractiveness, 2) great body, 3) firm buttocks {see #2}. Pics necessary for response. If you don’t have firm buttocks don't even think about it. I like firm buttocks. Also include in your response language praising me in two different ways. This should be the easy part.

No freaks.

He gets letters:

"good one dude."

" bananahammock strikes again!"

"Men suck...and you are right, they do. They suck toes, pussy, titties, and if you can find they right one they will suck your ass too! Damn, I miss a good man!"

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!"

SWM seeks meek and mild doormat with an accent or a “lady”

Just a couple guys looking for non-American women (permalink) or Asians only (permalink). Probably the same guy...

Hi “ladies” my name is Mr. “BananaHammock,” 37&single. I just moved here from the
mid-west about 10 years ago and I am looking for a pushover foreigner with poor English skills and a submissive outlook: a “lady” and I did say "lady" to be my house frau.

If you are “Asian,” “European (but not German--they can be real pushy),” “Middle Eastern,” or “Canadian,” etc., be anything but “American” and we will hit it off splendidly. I treat “ladies” exceptionally well. I will define the word “lady.” A “lady” is NOT a whiny, complaining, overweight “American” woman. A “lady” is “lady-like” and “poised,” no hobbies or interest that don’t involve me as the subject of your hobby or interest, because that would make you interested in things other than me, which is of course “unpoised” and “unlady-like.” A “lady” knows how to leave me “replete” with “sensuosity.” A “lady” also talks only when spoken to because a “lady” doesn’t have her own opinions. A “lady” with opinions isn’t a “lady” because I have all the opinions she needs. Females with too many opinions and too much to say about too many topics (“unladies”) are obviously not thinking enough about me and you will fit into the overweight, whiny, complaining, American woman category, basically meaning that you are not a “lady” but rather a whiny, complaining, overweight American and I simply am not interested. An “unlady” is what you are. No body piercings or tattoos (unless tribal as a result of your upbringing outside of America), no fat, no raised in America, no brains, no drama, no opinions. American women are like that and American men don't like that. Trust me. What? Would I lie? I better not be hearing an opinion…..

He gets letters:

"U are funny – so serious"

" You rule dude! If you find her, and she has a sister who needs citizenship, lemme know."

"I am a lady from a mixed middle easter and east africa where one civilization existed for a long time the land of Aida. However, in simple words, am in a good shape and exercise often about 5 times if not more for a short time, i love to cook and eat healthy. I like normal guy with not too much opinions and complains all the time, in short not a negative person. Height is important if you are less than 5'6'' you might be intimated, as am 5'10''..

well, what you have said needs more explanation, i kind of got what you need to say but it was a bit confusing, why.. i see you were a bit extreme on some type of women and maybe your experience reflects on what you have said. All is good for now... hit me with e-mail …if i appeal to you a reasonable person .. let's see if we can connect or not...

I will attached pic, when you want me too..

take care i would expect you will receive many junks e-mail from women who heat what you have said...enjoy....."

Psst...you. Yes, you...I need to tell you something...

This guy's (permalink) smug alpha-maleness makes Whiskypants want to vomit. Can I make her hurl? Hmmm...I can try.

Come a little closer so I can…
* quietly tell you smoking is unladylike, I don't want to cause a scene
* wipe some of that makeup off of your face, you look a little trampy
* cut your steak for you
* pat you butt and whisper in your ear, "It's ok, baby. It's ok."

Come closer to a guy who is…
* going to be talking baby talk when talking to you
* going to be ordering your dinner for you
* not interested in your opinions
* always right

Mutual interests could include...
* me
* my wants and needs
* me
* me
* serious adult relationships

Extra points if you can tell me what the photo is supposed to mean (hint: I'm no pussy). Clearer pics available, you should have the same. .

Does any really take that sh*t seriously?

"Intellectual giant" (permalink) who lives in a glass house shouldn't throw stones....

My most recent predominantly current love is to read all different adds, replies, re-replies, re-re-replies, re-re-re-replies, people busting on each other, people busting on themselves, crazy people, self-absorbed people, people with low self-esteem, people with high self-esteem.......... and oh yeah, the grammer/spelling or lack thereof that people exibit.

Honestly, this add is your first impression of a person that they're themselves probably going to sleep with on the first or second date. If you cannot take the time to write a coherint sentance with no spelling errors or a paragraphs that follow some kind of logical progression, then why the f*ck would I consider replying to your add?

Anyway, I'm unimaginative. So entertain me. Now. I work in DC and there are so many hot girls walking around. Just imagine all the people you walk past every day. Just imagine that you are the king of America and you outlaw clothes for hot women. Who would make the dicisions on who would be considered hot? There are so many that it would be hard for you to judge all by yourself. Judges? Would you get to pick them? Probably, since you are the king of America. Also, think of all the hotties that you're attracted to... and you'll never have sex with like ½ of them. In real life anyway. Depressing really. But if you were the king of America, you could have sex with anyone you wanted. Who would you pick first. What if they said no. Would you put them in jail. Or imagine that you are king that everyone loves so you had sex with all. So much that your penis fell off. Scary.

So this is my home pc, but i'll only send you a pic for a pic. However, allow me to be descriptive of my presence: 6'1”, 168 lbs, brown hair, brown eyes, american looks. I've been told I'm attractive. My grandma never lied to me. Alright, thats probably enough for you to want to marry me. I could list a thousand things here describing the physical/emotional aspects I'm seeking. I want a skinny woman with big tits. And attractive. A woman that shuts up when she is told to shut up. A woman whose not crazy. A woman whose not a fat woman. A woman of my own caliber of mental strengthiness?

Curious to see if anyone actually replies to this.

He gets cl M4W responses:

"Strengthiness isn't a word "Mr. Intellectual". And there's a perfectly good reason you're 36 and single. Read your profile again. It's all in there. I just saved you a shrink invoice."

"It's ironic that you complain about incorrect spelling, yet you do it yourself almost from the beginning of your ad (NOTE: It's AD and not ADD.) "

"Of course, by posting, I'm giving this putz what he wants. But I can't resist. Besides the fact that he left "one" out of the title (anyone), how can you critique anyone's grammar/spelling/sentence structure when you produce this crap? I don't even know what the first sentence means!"

"Pretty damn funny. I especially like that you mispelled coherent in your commentary about the sack of shit, negligent writers who fail to spell check, or worse yet, are just too dumb.

I'm too lazy at the moment to change my e-mail listing with Craigs list, yeah mentally too tired, and honestly not interested in romance. So, this comcast address that shows, I've never used; maybe I'll figure it out. Life is very good in the romance departmernt, but I strayed from the platonic section, because it's dull and tiring. (I'm new to DC and want to meet people outside of work.)

Good luck in your search for the barbee who will sit up and shut up; she'll come in the form of a crazy woman who gets it. Crazy of course, in all the right ways."

I want to fill up a woman with my man seed

He wants to impregnate a woman. I'm willing to come in her mouth. Hmmmmm.

I know there are some who won't like this post. If you must send me hate email--go ahead.

I am a 36 yo, professional, attractive, intelligent white male who is facing imminent deployment to Klendathu battle against the bug aliens that call Klendathu home(just doing my part as a citizen of the Federation). Before I go I want to fill up a woman with my man seed. Any orifice will suffice

I'm looking for a woman who wants me to fill them up with my man seed. My man seed is very potent, has delicate, ripe, figgy nose, and tastes like Château Haut Brion Pessac-Léognan 1982(or so I am told). Email me and we'll take the next step.



He gets letters:

"Dude: First it is impregnate a woman, then an ocelot, now just fill any hole? Do us all a favor, pay for a hooker or buy an inflatable doll and be done with it. None of us women here care which one you do … but just buzz off already, do something about your needs and go away. Please for our sake."

"Dude, I sense your schtick ain't working. Why?"

Girls with Bazongas...

In spite of what Ann would have you believe, I am not as boobie-obsessed as this guy.

Girls....you know if you got’em....and if you do, chances are I'm attracted to you. I likey rib cushions, from nippers to double whammies. Doesn’t matter. I never thought I was a love bubble guy until my personal relationship with Jesus Christ® convinced me I was. Of course that's not all I'm looking for in a girl, I also like the fluttering love wallet, but marangos are usually the first thing that I see. Im single, brown-haired, 6’0, brown eyes, athletic, and about 171. I have pics if pics are sent to me. Not exactly sure what im looking for, but if I meet the right girl, I think i'd know. Are u the one? Do u have a nice set of wongas?

I am sitting on the floor in your panties

Or you are sitting on the floor in your panties...

i have this vision in my mind
we are sitting cross legged on the floor
across from each other
i am in your panties
and your bra
you're naked since i’m wearing you undergarments
sharing a bottle of MD 20/20
no glasses
listening to music
lights are out
you’re all, “it’s pretty fucking dark in here”
i’m like, “yea well what do you want me to do about it”
and you’re like, “why not turn on a fuckin’ light Einstein
and i’m like, “shut yer yap”
you able to come to that place

Here's a little something for you not slutty enough bitches out there

A-Machine thy name is misogyny...

Why the fuck do I have to send a picture at all? Why the fucking fuck won’t you pay for my fucking meal? I’m the one that has to listen to you talk about how mother fucking magazine ads are distorting your body image? You’re fucking fat. Fucking get over it, ya fat fuck. Fuck. Also, why the fuck do you want to make sure that it's strictly platonic, not fucking? Fuck yea.

For fuck's sake, you D.C. women need to pull your diplomas (all three) out of your fucking asses. Great. You're intelligent. You're discovering what we men have known for years. There is a lot of room in our asses.

There is a parable about a happy monkey called Sherbert. Sherbert lived in Israel, in the time of Jesus, and was a very happy monkey because his owner was a kind man who gave him dates and bananas and allowed him to watch the adult channels after the kids had gone to bed. All Sherbert had to do to earn this exemplary Jewish hospitality was do some tricks to cheer the kids up when they were sad, allow himself to be hugged, and not crap in the bloody kitchen (although, as Sherbert tried to point out, the floor of the whole stone hut was covered in shit anyway, so why discriminate?)

One day, Sherbert noticed that the people who lived next door to his owners had bought their children a parrot to play with, a beautiful creature of myriad colours who stunned all who beheld him fly. They called him Rainbow, and he became much loved in the area (although some were wary of his little ice skates. I mean, this is the fucking desert, you know?) Sherbert, however, was happy to have a new animal friend in the area, who he could smoke snouts with round the back of the house during the day, and could complain to about the ongoing stupidity of the dominant race. But soon Sherbert, as any animal in a basic story such as this would, began to feel the green eyed monster, and shortly after became jealous of the parrot as well. So, one monkey night while he was curled up in his divan bed, he hatched a plan.

The next day, little Jehusapha, the youngest daughter of the family, watched in bemusement as Sherbert began to prowl around the house squawking. Later, he climbed to the roof, and, still making that odd coughing sound that didn't come naturally to his monkey vocal organs, he flapped his arms and jumped off. Sherbert died three hours later in hospital.

And ladies. Sex isn't your worst enemy. Just plagiarism. See above and what happened to poor fucking Sherbert. As soon as you figure out how to enjoy it, sex not plagiarism, you'll be able to have your cake and fucking eat it too. Try checking out how fun fucking can be on a Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night or Saturday morning. Or Tuesday, I’m available then too. You're not going to wind up married until you're fucking 34 or 35 when you lower your fucking standards anyway. So in the meantime, do yourself a favor. Pull down them little satin-like drawers you're wearing, comb through those hairs until you find the tingle that makes your cheeks go flush, spread them wings, and let the Mr. Banana Hammock-machine into your life.

I also prefer internet porn to magazines...shit?

He gets letters:

"you seem very angry. hope you find the woman of your dreams w/ that demeanor. eesh."

"geessh why sooo hostile?"