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.