Actual Personal Ads
* 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 Alpert
albums. Baby, you are my Tijuana Taxi.
* 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 someone else.
* 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.
* 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.
* 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.
* 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, masturbating 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 and
stinky, either sex, for whippings, bizarre sex and fashion consulting.
No freaks.
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