I posted this on craigslist. It took 15 minutes to get yanked down.
"I'ma make my move soon..."
I like doods and you're this dood I see a lot. We're both awkward and can never really seem to start a conversation without our quippy friends revving it up. I really wanted to tell you how I feel about you last night (I want to bone you), but the music was too loud everytime we were alone. So. I thought I'd tell you via craigslist everything I wanted to say to you last night.
You know that film SHOWGIRLS? You're the Cristal to my Nomi. I kinda want you to admire me and hate me and show me the ropes while holding me down all at the same time. I want us to have awkward lunches and talk about Doggie Chow. I want to be your whore, even though I'll vehemently deny it and demand the status of "dancer" in your presence. I'll make you watch me make Agent Cooper (with a bad haircut) cum in his pants as I have a grand mal epileptic seizure in his lap. Sometimes you make me wanna risk getting hep C just so I can lick the dirty dance pole.
I want to star in an epic Showgirls extravaganza with you that involves you dressed as a bride in a see-thru, sequinced onsie and a bunch of flaming gay biker dudes faux raping you and (faux) licking your puss. I'm quick. I'll pick the dance moves up in 1 one through or less. I do, admittedly, have issues, however, with my pique turns.
Look. I could have Paula Abdul, Janet Jackson or LaToya. But I want you. We can marginalize my best friend together. I think she likes it.
On special occasions, we can even dance with poorly drawn computer hover bikinis for when your parents are in town... so they don't have to look at our smiling snatches, and what you will.
Look. Dancing ain't fuckin. And I know I'm from different places back east, but the bottom line is, let's go on a date and see if we connect. I will make you wear a Gina Gershon mask and put rhinestone pasties on your breasts and I will have you pour champagne all over my body when we're in the pool. But really? I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything's going to be ok. Are you that guy?
In the end, I'll push you down the stairs though. I'm not going to lie.
But seriously. You, uh, wanna get some burritos sometime? I'll even do your nails...
---
I need to grow some stones.
FLASHBACK!
"I'ma make my move soon..."
I like doods and you're this dood I see a lot. We're both awkward and can never really seem to start a conversation without our quippy friends revving it up. I really wanted to tell you how I feel about you last night (I want to bone you), but the music was too loud everytime we were alone. So. I thought I'd tell you via craigslist everything I wanted to say to you last night.
You know that film SHOWGIRLS? You're the Cristal to my Nomi. I kinda want you to admire me and hate me and show me the ropes while holding me down all at the same time. I want us to have awkward lunches and talk about Doggie Chow. I want to be your whore, even though I'll vehemently deny it and demand the status of "dancer" in your presence. I'll make you watch me make Agent Cooper (with a bad haircut) cum in his pants as I have a grand mal epileptic seizure in his lap. Sometimes you make me wanna risk getting hep C just so I can lick the dirty dance pole.
I want to star in an epic Showgirls extravaganza with you that involves you dressed as a bride in a see-thru, sequinced onsie and a bunch of flaming gay biker dudes faux raping you and (faux) licking your puss. I'm quick. I'll pick the dance moves up in 1 one through or less. I do, admittedly, have issues, however, with my pique turns.
Look. I could have Paula Abdul, Janet Jackson or LaToya. But I want you. We can marginalize my best friend together. I think she likes it.
On special occasions, we can even dance with poorly drawn computer hover bikinis for when your parents are in town... so they don't have to look at our smiling snatches, and what you will.
Look. Dancing ain't fuckin. And I know I'm from different places back east, but the bottom line is, let's go on a date and see if we connect. I will make you wear a Gina Gershon mask and put rhinestone pasties on your breasts and I will have you pour champagne all over my body when we're in the pool. But really? I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything's going to be ok. Are you that guy?
In the end, I'll push you down the stairs though. I'm not going to lie.
But seriously. You, uh, wanna get some burritos sometime? I'll even do your nails...
---
I need to grow some stones.
FLASHBACK!