It is with keen disappointment that I realize that NOBODY is leaving messages for the hot and sexy blogger here. There are no sweetly suggestive comments underneath my posts, and no-one has availed themselves of the splendid opportunity presented by my letterbox to send me over-the-top propositions.
Why is that?!?
A lack of crazy self-assurance, perhaps?
On a related note, I must inform several people that their legs are not too fat. You women have no clue about feminine beauty. None whatsoever.
Skinny skank pins are what fashion-designers like to see wobbling down the runway, but you should realize by now that fashion designers have issues. Their sexuality is often twisted beyond belief, they hate women, and the only reason they want females enveloping them is as accessories to their own overblown sense of fabulosity. But never as conversational partners, friends, or equals. Merely as ego-stroke decoration, and to show off what divine aesthetic sense they possess.
Virtually the same sickeningly obsessive dynamic also informs men like Hugh Heffner, Silvio Berlusconi, and Dominique Gaston André Strauss-Kahn. Men so distressed by their own inadequacy that they must surround themselves with the trappings of power and pursue sex with a single-mindedness that calls out for psychotherapy and chemical castration.
Real women have real legs. Plus extra weight here and there, as well as figures that do not resemble stick insects. And above all, above it all, a head with a functioning brain. That last item is by far the most beautiful part of a woman's body. It explains all those hairy-armpitted European ladies who have husbands, lovers, casual flings, and besotted Frenchmen.
Real women have opinions. Real women have mouths. Real women have interests and moods. Real women are grouchy. Real women like long baths, or spending the weekend lounging around in grubby clothes, reading.
Real women sometimes want fried food.
Real women need vindaloo.
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KINDLY SHUT UP
If you were travelling, you rather looked forward to the easy camaraderie and hubbub of the cafe on the platform, where you'd settle dow...
16 comments:
Advice. If you are looking for a date, step away from your computer and explore the real world. You come across as lonely, desperate and a bit creepy.
But I am lonely and a bit creepy.
Not desperate.
I've seen what's out there.
I will never be that desperate.
One word.
Tattoos.
Tattoos and neuroses.
Okay, that's two words.
Tattoos and neuroses.
And rampant consumerism.
Three words.
Tattoos, neuroses, and rampant consumerism.
Three words.
Among the things I fear are tattoos, neuroses, and rampant consumerism.
And a lack of imagination, inculcated by popular media, especially television.
Especially Fox and Bravo.
Four words. Not three. Four.
You're really going to have to explain the vindaloo.
Vindaloo?
Mister, it would take more than just crazed self-assurance, it would take temporary insanity and alcohol-fuelled late night internet stalking.
But I'll admit it's an amusing concept.
lonely, desperate and a bit creepy.
Desperate?
Try nuts.
Commenter at 11:45,
The perfect woman likes vindaloo.
Surely you knew that?
Commenter at 12:00 PM,
Alcohol-fuelled internet stalking?
I'll happily settle for cold sober sparks of inspiration and recognition of a like-mindedness. They're far less likely to lead to weird developments later on.
Commenter at 2:49,
Why should I try nuts? I'm absolutely not interested in squirrels.
But thanks for the suggestion.
Sickazoid?
Bhaingan bharta.
Add more ghee.
It's th3 onee tj6u aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaac
Anonymous at 1:36 AM,
What?
"Try Nuts"
I wouldn't bother. Women are more interested in chocolates or perhaps pastries.
I don't think the average woman is interested in nuts, of any variety
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