Building on the rash of new subscribers who share the
color of their underwear and secret desires with the whole world, I
thought you might find these good for a laugh, one of the ways we can
"Beat the Blues"......
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Excerpted from the book "A Collection of Personal Ads From
Alternative Newspapers," by Skippy Williams and Zohre Crumpton, 1996,
Simon and Schuster:
Bitter, unsuccessful middle aged loser wallowing in an unending sea
of inert, drooping loneliness looking for 24 year old needy
leech-like hanger-on to abuse with dull stories, tired sex and Herb
Me--trying to sleep on the bus station bench, pleading with you to
give me a cigarette; you--choking on my odor, tripping over your
purse trying to get away; at the last moment, our eyes meeting. Yours
were blue. Can I have a dollar?
Imp and angel. Disembodied head in jar, 24, seeks pixie goddess to
fiddle with while Rome burns. You bring marshmallows. No. I make
joke. You like laugh? I like comebacks and confessions. Send photo of
I am spitting kitty. Ftt Fttttttt. I am angry bear. Grrrrr. I am
large watermelon seed stuck in your nose. Zermmmmmmmmmm. I am small
biting spider in your underwear. Yub yub yub. No mimes.
Three toed mango peeler searching for wicked lesbian infielder. Like
screaming and marking territory with urine? Let's make banana
enchiladas together in my bathtub. You bring the salsa.
Mongoloid spastic underwear model with extra limb (you guess where?)
in search of bottlenosed dolphin and extra prickly cactus juice. Soup
is good food.
I like eating mayonnaise and peanut butter sandwiches in the rain,
watching Barney Miller reruns, peeing on birds in the park and
licking strangers on the subway; you eat beets raw, have climbed
Kilimanjaro, and sweat freely and often. Must wear size five shoes.
Timber! Falling downward is the lumber of my love. You grind your axe
of passion into my endangered headlands. Don't make me into a bureau.
I want to be lots and lots of toothpicks.
Small lumpy squid monkey seeks healthy woman with no identifying
scars, any age. Must have all limbs. Recommend appreciation of
high-pitched, screeching noises. Must like being bored and lonely.
Must not touch the squids, EVER.
There is a little place in the jumbled sock drawer of my heart where
you match up all the pairs, throw out the ones with holes in them,
and buy me some of those neat dressy ones with the weird black and
red geometrical designs on them.
Mmmm Pez! Rabid Wonder Woman fan looking for someone in satin tights,
fighting for our rights and the old red, white 'n blue. You look like
Linda Carter? Big plus. Know all words to theme song? Marry me.
Sanctimonious mordacious raconteur seeking same for hijinks and
hiballs. SJM 27 wants to look someone in the eye so don't be tall.
Or, if you can't help it, enjoy laying down. Wanna swim upstream?
Remember that summer you spent with your parents in Hawaii and how
mad you were that they made you go? And how you were hopelessly bored
until you saw the most gorgeous man you'd ever encountered strolling
down the beach looking at you, skillfully removing your skimpy bikini
with his piercing eyes? And how you spent the last month imagining
him taking you in every possible way feverishly day and night,
wishing he would reappear, but he never did because you were 15 and
he would have gone to jail? That was me, and you just turned 18.
Angry, simple-minded, balding, partially blind ex-circus flipper boy
with a passion for covering lovers in sour cream and gravy seeks
exotic, heavily tattooed piercing fanatic, preferably hairy, either
sex, for whippings, bizarre sex and fashion consulting. No freaks.