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:
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: