onlysweetpea
Bluelighter
So I Placed a Personals Ad
And it read...
Dear Sir(s):
To keep me from turning to the Lord and/or Lesbians, I have been forced to go to extreme measures.
I’m holding your penis’ for ransom 'til one and/or all of you submit to my will. Said genitalia will be held captive with certain rights and privileges (Geneva Convention). In other words, they will not be starved, beaten, humiliated (unless they do that themselves without provocation) or sexually disrespected. (I am not of Rumsfeld’s ilk.)
My demands are simple.
-These 15 extra pounds are to be called “voluptuous”, not “blubber”. No I'm not 'storing it for the winter.' No, you cannot harpoon me. You are only allowed to call me fat when my 5’ frame hits the 200 lb. mark (which, rest assured, it will not).
-You will attend the annual company holiday party with me and you will not pick your nose or cut my meat for me.
-You will put your arm around me at home while we drink beer and watch old episodes of The Family Guy. You will think Stewie is hi-larious. You will indulge me when I insist on watching the one where Stewie wants to be a cheerleader to learn their secret mind-control powers, again and again.
-You will accompany me to shows. You will not have to pay for my ticket. Only when you feel like it and you have the cash. You will mosh/dance/sway/groove with me. I don’t care if you do the white boy shuffle. Something is better than nothing.
-You will eat sushi with me. You will not be a sushi snob. I like California Roll as much as I like sashimi.
-You will not swirl and sniff your wine like you know what you're talking about...unless of course, you do know what you're talking about.
-You will proudly hold my hand if we happened to be in a room full of hot blond chicks.
-You will try not to throttle my mother when she asks you if you believe in Jesus Christ (though I won’t hold you accountable if you do).
-You will not drag me out to sporting events unless you explain the game to me first and not get mad when I ask questions.
-You will understand that I only smoke the green on occasion because I don’t like waking up with my face in a Fried Chicken bucket…and neither do you, for that matter.
-You will never, under any circumstances, tell me to ”Lighten up”.
-You will not cheat on me. If you find another girl hot, that’s fine. You can ask me for a threesome to which I can turn down if I don’t like her, you can fantasize but not touch or you can leave me for her, but first and foremost, you will tell me the truth.
-You will spoon me.
-You will include me in your life. I will include you in mine. We can and will have separate lives outside of each other though.
-You will have your own bank account.
-You will indulge my bad-eh-er-quirky sense of humor.
-You will like me.
-You will love me.
-You will incite me to chorus. (Ok, ok, ok…Jill Scott has somehow taken over my list.)
I do not find any of my demands unreasonable. I have been scoffed and ridiculed by my fellow sisters for having standards that have nothing to do with what kind of car you drive or how much money you make. I care about your tolerance levels for my quirkiness, your tolerance for beer and/or liquor and, well, about your intentions.
I wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to get into my pants (I’d probably like it), I would hope you’d be smart enough to know when that’s called for and how soon is too soon.
But, I guess that’s a moot point though, when I’m holding your dicks hostage till someone steps up to plate.
Quickly please.
I don’t really want to hurt anyone, but this seems to be the only way any of you of the opposite sex will listen (ah-hem, when I’m holding firm your package).
-all images are from 'The Family Guy'.
And it read...
Dear Sir(s):
To keep me from turning to the Lord and/or Lesbians, I have been forced to go to extreme measures.
I’m holding your penis’ for ransom 'til one and/or all of you submit to my will. Said genitalia will be held captive with certain rights and privileges (Geneva Convention). In other words, they will not be starved, beaten, humiliated (unless they do that themselves without provocation) or sexually disrespected. (I am not of Rumsfeld’s ilk.)
My demands are simple.
-These 15 extra pounds are to be called “voluptuous”, not “blubber”. No I'm not 'storing it for the winter.' No, you cannot harpoon me. You are only allowed to call me fat when my 5’ frame hits the 200 lb. mark (which, rest assured, it will not).
-You will attend the annual company holiday party with me and you will not pick your nose or cut my meat for me.
-You will put your arm around me at home while we drink beer and watch old episodes of The Family Guy. You will think Stewie is hi-larious. You will indulge me when I insist on watching the one where Stewie wants to be a cheerleader to learn their secret mind-control powers, again and again.
-You will accompany me to shows. You will not have to pay for my ticket. Only when you feel like it and you have the cash. You will mosh/dance/sway/groove with me. I don’t care if you do the white boy shuffle. Something is better than nothing.
-You will eat sushi with me. You will not be a sushi snob. I like California Roll as much as I like sashimi.
-You will not swirl and sniff your wine like you know what you're talking about...unless of course, you do know what you're talking about.
-You will proudly hold my hand if we happened to be in a room full of hot blond chicks.
-You will try not to throttle my mother when she asks you if you believe in Jesus Christ (though I won’t hold you accountable if you do).
-You will not drag me out to sporting events unless you explain the game to me first and not get mad when I ask questions.
-You will understand that I only smoke the green on occasion because I don’t like waking up with my face in a Fried Chicken bucket…and neither do you, for that matter.
-You will never, under any circumstances, tell me to ”Lighten up”.
-You will not cheat on me. If you find another girl hot, that’s fine. You can ask me for a threesome to which I can turn down if I don’t like her, you can fantasize but not touch or you can leave me for her, but first and foremost, you will tell me the truth.
-You will spoon me.
-You will include me in your life. I will include you in mine. We can and will have separate lives outside of each other though.
-You will have your own bank account.
-You will indulge my bad-eh-er-quirky sense of humor.
-You will like me.
-You will love me.
-You will incite me to chorus. (Ok, ok, ok…Jill Scott has somehow taken over my list.)
I do not find any of my demands unreasonable. I have been scoffed and ridiculed by my fellow sisters for having standards that have nothing to do with what kind of car you drive or how much money you make. I care about your tolerance levels for my quirkiness, your tolerance for beer and/or liquor and, well, about your intentions.
I wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to get into my pants (I’d probably like it), I would hope you’d be smart enough to know when that’s called for and how soon is too soon.
But, I guess that’s a moot point though, when I’m holding your dicks hostage till someone steps up to plate.
Quickly please.
I don’t really want to hurt anyone, but this seems to be the only way any of you of the opposite sex will listen (ah-hem, when I’m holding firm your package).
-all images are from 'The Family Guy'.
