Posts Tagged ‘Facebook’

Let’s be clear.  I’m shallow.  I like good-looking people.  I only flirt with good-looking people.  I judge the book by its cover.  If your flesh cover doesn’t appeal to me, there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that I’ll be interested.  (I’ll give you time to pass judgment on me and say, “Oh my God. How can she be so superficial?”  Are you done yet?  Ok.  I’ll continue.)  In the hormone-fueled world of the internet, a profile photo allows me to make a snap judgement.  With that in mind, may I make a suggestion?  If you’re attempting to attract a female, you might not want to scare the hell out of her.



This man is looking for that special someone with whom to share his obsession with the Manson Family.  Nothing says “romance” more than a visit to the Spahn Ranch. He didn’t mean to kill his previous girlfriends.  After chloroforming those two teenagers, he forgot to make sure their airways were unobstructed.  No worries. He has learned his lesson and no longer gags girls with their own underwear.



What girl wouldn’t want to bring a doctor home to meet her parents?  Sure…  He looks like he makes his own surgical instruments.  But, that just means he’s thrifty.

-“Honey, do you know where I put the mellon baller?”  

-“Don’t worry, Mom.  My boyfriend took it.  He’s performing cataract surgery today.”


Mad Scientist 

What girl could resist the charms of this dashing fellow?  Nothing says “sexy” more than a man with a lab coat, a syringe and a variety of unknown bodily fluids.  On the upside, the lucky chica who wins this guy will always vacation in exotic countries that don’t check to confirm his medical credentials.  Where else can he find new “volunteers” for his experiments?

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I’ve noticed that men have an almost devotional relationship with their penises. They talk about “junior” like it’s a separate entity.  Sometimes, they give it a name of its very own.  I have yet to meet a woman who does that with her genitalia. Speaking for myself, I don’t call my breasts “Thelma and Louise” or “Tom and Jerry”. Truthfully, I don’t think they would even respond to those names.

Considering how much men like their organ, it’s a shame they can’t actually date themselves.  I mean, wouldn’t it be convenient if men could take their penises out to dinner, go see a movie and, ultimately, make the moves on themselves?

This brings me to the thrust… I mean… point of my argument.  Men are so enamored with their johnsons, they think everyone else is equally enthralled. What else explains their constant invitations to display the family jewels?  Of all the delights that the computer-age has delivered, the web cam is the least appealing.


See Dick1

“hello baby, you want to see my dick on web cam?”

The only way I want to see your dick is if it’s removed from your body and submerged in a bottle of formaldehyde.  If I see your “man meat”, I fear I’ll never want to date another man in my life. 


See DIck2

“hi trish i can show you my cock i swear respond me please”

I’m sure you can show me but it’s not necessary.  Really.  I’m not sure why you need to “swear”.  Do you think that I doubt your earnestness?  I honestly don’t.  I admire the fact that you request an R.S.V.P.  Evidently, you’re a stickler for etiquette.



“wanna see my hard cock?  cybercock_@******”

Sweet baby jeebus.  Let me count the ways in which I don’t want to see that. Thank you for promising me that you would be hard because that really sweetens the deal. However, I don’t want to see your “love spear” hard, flaccid or any condition in-between. While your email address certainly is truth in advertising, I think a more appropriate choice would have been:



(Nota Bene ~ Some of you have asked if I actually know the men who send such erudite messages.  Ummm…  Have you seen the men on my “Friend List”?  It’s populated with the interesting and the attractive.  I’ve seen road kill that’s better looking and wittier than these ads for abstinence.)

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Clothes Make the Man

Clothes make the man.  Unless, of course, his clothes are made of other men.  Or, in this case, replicas of other men.

Penis Man

Yes.  This man is wearing a penis covered costume.  Please take a moment to revel in the sheer repulsiveness of this sight.

However, the titillating question is…  why did he chose this cockamamy ensemble?  What is the thrust of his argument?  What point is he trying to drill home?  Is he mounting some sort of campaign?

(I’ll stop with the puns before this humor reaches its peak.)

Is he attempting to alert others that he is, in fact, so well-endowed that only a sea of penises can compete with his prowess?

Perhaps, he’s one of Marvel Comics lesser known superheroes.  Ladies and gentlemen, I present “Penis Man“.  His powers include the ability to harden at a moment’s notice, to penetrate anything in front of him and to produce ruffies out of thin air.   His only known weakness is immediate flaccidity when the word “commitment” is mentioned.  Wait a minute.  This sounds suspiciously like most guys.  Anyway….  When he isn’t fighting the never-ending battle against blue balls, he reverts to his alter-ego, Mr. Willy Johnson, a mild-mannered prophylactic salesman.

I couldn’t cum come to a conclusion.

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Facebook 101

Wikipedia defines Facebook as “a free-access social networking website”.

Yeah.  Sure.  That’s one way to look at it.  I have my own definition.

Facebook:  The internet’s equivalent to a woman walking past a construction site filled with horny day-laborers.  

Wait.  That’s not a complete definition.  

Facebook:  A site that mimics a dingy bar that serves 190 proof Everclear to those horny day-laborers… making them even hornier.

Wait.  That isn’t the full story, either.

Facebook:  A virtual dive where horny men (cloaked in anonymity) feel free enough to send obscene messages to complete strangers.

Let’s be clear…  I enjoy flirtations.  I enjoy the exchange of lustful thoughts between two consenting people.  I enjoy the carnal delights that two interlocking bodies can provide.  However, I’m just old-fashioned enough to believe that this line doesn’t work:

hey bby… u r gr8… will u suck my b@lls“.

What does he think I’m going to say?

Gee.  Since you asked so nicely, sure thing.  Drop your pants and whip out those bad boys while I pucker up.”   

For some reason, these “invitations” are always delivered by the world’s most disgusting men.  At least, I think they’re men.  Many are so hairy they should see a groomer.  Honestly, if this guy weren’t in the safety of his basement, would he ever proposition a woman?


Oh yeah…  Stay away, girls.  I saw him first.  Someone better hold me back.  My lust is overwhelming.  I’ve never been so turned on.  The mere thought of becoming lost in Sasquatch’s fur makes me tingle.


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