The only women who I'm atttracted to, (and who are attracted to me), are
seriously deranged and proud of it. So what the Hell! Let's go
for it. Lets drive at 120+ mph over the Bay bridge the wrong way. Stand
up up in a speeding convertable, while hurling beer cans at tourists,
marina chicks and SUV's. Or just climb up various walls, and scrape each
other off the ceilings.
About me: I'm a 45 year old, (give or take a decade), impoverished writer
who drools a lot. I live in a dumpster behind the Orchard Supply
Hardware on the corner of Ashby and San Pablo. My hobbies include:
Smashing the State and dancing in the rubble, designing ways for small
furry animals to torture research scientists, and playing in traffic.
I don't have any portraits of myself per se, but if I like you I
just might send you a photo of yrs truly being run over by a car.
About you: All guys are somewhat oriented towards the physical and I'm
no exception. In addition to the first, You should meet two more out of
the following seven criteria:
Completely bugshit, with either an arrest record or committment
papers to prove it. Note: Activities performed and/or Committments
obtained while High or Drunk do not count. That shit's strictly amateur
night.
Conta wise post-graduate degrees do count, particularily degrees
in the more arcane, obsesive yet non-lucrative fields such as particle
physics, condensed matter theory, or the history of the Byzantine empire
in the fifth century.
Somewhere in the third decade of your current incarnation.
tattooed and pierced with hair that is either:
Totally shaved
Styled in a mowhawk or dreadlocks
Dyed a color not found in nature
skinny enough to hide behind a picket fence.
95% of your waredrobe consists of hand-me-down or was purchased at
garage sales and thrift stores.
The only reason you ever go into MacDonald's is to sneak into the
bathroom.
The last time you were inside Macy's or Nordstrom's was with a can
of spray paint and/or stink bombs.
WARNING: Do not contact this poster if you want to be just
friends. I have enough friends already and they all owe me money. I
promise not to molest you on the first date, (unless you stick your
tongue down my throat). However, by the fourth time we go out, don't even
bother wearing panties unless you want them chewed off your thighs.
On the same note, you shouldn't contact me if all you're looking for is
sex either. The only things my last lover left me with were a an upper
lip I'd bitten through, a crushed larynx, sprained groin muscles, and a
court order banning either of us from the buffet table at Passand's.
Frankly I'm a little bored, exhausted and in pain from just sex.
While sex is important, I want to arouse and abuse our minds first; our
bodies second.