Dear Future Me (and everybody else who reads this blog):
In the spirit of the season (namely gray, cold and depressing) I have written a series of personal ads for you to peruse/endure. I’m tempted to take whichever one you like best and actually post it somewhere on the ‘Wubs, and if that does happen I’ll blame all of YOU terrible people when I’m ducktaped to the inside of somebody’s trunk.
“Wanted: A Dude to Put Up With My Crazy Shit.
Here’s the deal, male people. I am a fucking loopy chick and I need somebody for regular sex and adventures and companionship so that there is someone to make sure that my roommate’s dogs haven’t eaten me. I don’t want to clean up after you and I don’t expect you to give a crap when I tell you long-winded stories from my childhood. A little about me:
-I want one million babies. ALL THE BABIES.
-I drink. A lot. Probably more than I should.
-I’m an exhibitionist.
-I’m super close to my friends and family.
-Sometimes I touch myself at night
-Jesus is not my homeboy, though he is welcome to be my acquaintance.
-Coffee coffee coffee
-Also I like to go out dancing.
-Did I mention the babies?
I’m kind of boring. I really dig pens, and swing dancing, and crappy horror movies and TV shows that have been cancelled for a decade. I have some strong feelings about hipsters, none of them positive. TAKE YOUR IRONIC MUSTACHE AND STEP IN FRONT OF A BUS.
So anyway, if you like doing stuff and boning and eating things and occasionally trying to strangle teenagers with your mind, hit me up.
* * * * *
You Really Shouldn’t Date Me.
No, I mean it. You really shouldn’t date me. You should probably stop reading right now and go microwave yourself a burrito or something.
Listen, I’m kind of selfish. And even though I look like a hot girl, I spend a lot of time in a giant fuzzy blue bathrobe and I get lazy about shaving my legs after the first six months. Plus I’m really shallow, and if you suck in bed I will tell all my friends about it. On the upside, if you’re good in bed I will also tell all my friends about it. I hope you’re okay with that, but either way, you really shouldn’t date me.
I’m really close to my mom, and no matter how cool you are I will always love you slightly less than my best friend from childhood and my dog, Wyle E. Coyote. I am the kind of person who gives their dogs a middle name, and I get slightly excited around his birthday every year. We are both Tauruses. This is important, especially for making my point: you REALLY shouldn’t date me.
I get dissatisfied all the time. I feel restless. I quote poetry an inappropriate social occasions, like bachelor parties and dinner with your parents. I’m a huge flirt, and I have a bunch of guy friends, and some of them are probably trying to bone me but I’m going to keep hanging out with them anyway. I’m not great with money and I’m always putting my foot in my mouth or accidentally yelling “clitoris” in a room full of nuns and sometimes I pick arguments just to be a jerk AND YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T DATE ME.
I’m just going to break your heart. You really shouldn’t date me.
* * * * *
DEAR CUTE BOYS:
Please date me. It’ll be fun, unless you’re a total dick.
Are you a total dick? You should work on that. That’s a deal killer, for me.
Your Qualities, In Order of Importance:
-less than ten years older than me
-speak English or French
-no serious drug problems/criminal charges
-most of your fingers/toes
-steady source of legal income
-into vagina (mine, specifically).
I don’t like hipsters, punks or rappers. Men who spend more time grooming than I do (or no time grooming, ever) need not apply.
Weird Things About Me:
-I can’t sleep barefoot
-I’m always cold
-I don’t drink beer
-I have a strong preference for blue pens over black
-I correct spelling and grammar errors on posters in bathrooms
-I’m not the best speller/grammatasizer
-I care about things like fonts and children’s cartoon shows.
That’s pretty much it. Have a nice day, and please date me.
Well, what do you think? Hopelessly pathetic? Or hopefully pathetic? Both are good, honestly.
You especially shouldn’t date me,