Jazzing Up Dating Hell

This is complete and utter nonsense…my daughter is fucking up royally and I don’t want to talk about it.  So I’m going to post something funny that is happening instead.

So I reposted my Balding Paunchy Guy rant/dating ad:

‘Just wanted to see how it was going out there. This ad won’t be up long…I had some really fun dudes contact me last rant. Someone driving here to move to Colorado…cool photographer guy…some super funny responses. Now its just fun. I have gone on some really nice dates with some really nice guys despite the BIG FAT BABIES on here that flag my ads. Its the smart ones that get this shit. And it is shit. I will probably DIE dating. It is the worst possible torture that we do to ourselves on purpose that I can think of besides…oh I don’t know…WAXING. I actually have a really positive attitude and like I said have gone on some fun dates. Like attracts like. A couple of guys I really like, but I can’t FALL IN LOVE, I want to take my time and meet some nice people and get to know someone and if they are super amazing then great. I am staying single and having some fun. I am DATE-ING and not RELATIONSHIP-ING…that is the key. So sound off out there and drop me a line… and if you missed the last few rants…this all started with this ad..

*MY PREVIOUS AD GOES HERE*

Then someone whined about it, then I lost my shit and posted another one and got more responses than ever…it was just really funny….so play along…or whine…see what you get…and to all you big fat babies…that is my pic…SUCK IT – you missed out…’  Here’s the pic I posted:

So…ensued, once again, was hilarity, anger, bitter, balding, paunchy guys flagging my ad and getting it removed.  Actual anger at my boobs being out in the pic…WHO ARE THESE GUYS???  Some cute guys showed up, and none aggressive enough to pursue a date but just wanting conversation, and some severely aggressive so much so that I deleted them and told them to back off.

THEN I got this:

Do you wear a tiara every day?  

Who’s sled dog did you kill and turn into a fur coat?

Nice, um, keyboard.

keep ranting gf.

Nice.  He’s calling me on my shit.  I like it.

I respond…and I get this:

I have decided to paint my wheel barrow with the lifetime guarantee from Sears the same shade of red as your lip gloss so that I can feel closer to you.  What color is that, Maybelline Red Racer # 245 or Vercace Tuscany Sunset.

It continues until we have now, come to this:

It sounds like you are chained by the ankle in a kitchen of a man who is comforted by the same vintage linoleum floors his momma had in her house. Prefers cats over dogs? Does he also wear your clothes ?  Such magnificent cleavage…such poor choices.  Shall I start on the screenplay for the Lifetime and Oxygen channels to fight over?

Batting my lovely brown eyes at you.

Time to go save the world from itself.

Here is our screenplay so far:

I wrote-

Opening Scene

Pan left across kitchen counter to dishes in sink. Zoom in to egg yolk on white plate, crust of toast floating in bubbly water, faucet dripping.  Hear sounds of lawn mowers outside kitchen window.  Continue pan across counter in an extreme close up, pan across silver toaster, spatula with two flys humping on it, frying pan on stove with crusty egg white, pan down across kitchen floor of brown and yellow linoleum and follow close up on floor to back door.  Steady cam shot of going out back door, down cement stairs, past the 12 projects of undone landscaping, down driveway, down street going west, follow out of neighborhood on suburban street, past kids on big wheels, moms pushing strollers, Dodge Ram trucks, zoom in to bare feet of woman walking on pavement.   Pan up from her feet, up her legs, she is wearing a Fredericks of Hollywood cover up, white with feathers, a tiara, and nothing else.  Zoom out to see woman walking down street and mothers rushing their children into the house, screen doors slamming behind them, men are no longer mowing their pristine lawns in their black socks and flip flops as they watch her pass, their fanny packs flappin in the breeze.  Time stands still as the woman walks past the homes of garden gnomes and Prius filled driveways.

Pan back down from her pink tiara, her robe, her legs, to her feet, they don’t stop walking, we see them as a montage on pavement, sidewalks, grass, gravel, on a swing at the playground for a bit, flying up into the sky, walking into a 7-11.  We hear the door of the convenience store ‘ding’ as she walks in.  A toothless woman in a blue Izod shirt is buying cigarettes.  The Kardashians fill the cover of every magazine on the rack near the cashier.  Close up of the tiara woman’s hands as she releases the lever at the self service drink section to fill her cup. Zoom in on her lips around a straw.  Zoom out as she leaves 7-11 with a slurpee the size of her head.  Zoom in on her smile.

He wrote:

As she walks out the door of the 7-11 she runs smack into Mack “Tex” Jones, although everyone just called him Teddy.  Mack was a 5 foot 5, 250 pound, cigar chomping, flannel shirt-wearing hog hauler from Denver, Canada who was a member of Mensa and a drop out from Calgary Technical School of Brain Surgery who won the “Prettiest Mullet West of the Mississippi” trophy in 1983.  His dream is to drive the hogs to the slaughterhouse long enough to buy back his classic 1978 gold Trans Am…if he could just locate it.  And his plans had been on track for the entire morning in his new job until he ran smack into the house coat of his dreams, the queen of his mother’s double wide, the barefooted “Miss Tiara”.

And today, this is where we are at – my response:

“I like how you wield that straw with your tongue Little Miss…Tiara.”

Miss Tiara stopped at nothing.  She walked right past Tex as she was used to ignoring lewd men.  Then it occurred to her, maybe he was not being lewd.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”  

Tex had walked past her as he was also accustomed to beautiful women ignoring him and his 5 foot tall and almost as wide stature.

He turned, “I meant, those slurpee straws can get mighty wide, they aren’t like regular straws.  Their circumference to length ratio is about 27 milimeters wider than your regular Dixie straw.  And you, my little feathered princess, have that sweet red tongue of yours wrapped around that straw like you don’t want to miss a god danged drop o that slurpee.  I admire a girl who doesn’t like waste.”  He tipped his hat to her and walked on into the store.

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I think we may have something here…