Actual
personal ads from actual newspapers all across America:
Women Seeking Men
=================
I like driving around with my two cats, especially
on the freeway. I make them wear little hats so that I can use the
carpool lane. Way too much time on your hands too? Call me.
SWF, 42, 5'10", brown/blue.
SWF, 27, obnoxious, silly, pierced, tattooed,
insane, hormonally unbalanced, Rollerblading, sushi-eating, cartoon-watching
redhead from Hell, seeks Vlad. My neck is all yours. BITE ME.
Don't call me if you are uneducated; unemployed;
unhealthy smoker; felon; under 30 years old, 5'10"; over 40 years old,
6'8", 230 pounds; like cats, channel surfing; make less than $30,000 annually;
or have body parts pierced. Others feel free.
Men Seeking Women
=================
Fat, flatulent, over-40, cigar-smoking redneck
seeks sexy woman with big hair to cook, lean and pick up unemployment checks.
Desperate lonely loser, SWM, 32, miserable, apathetic,
tired of watching TV and my roommate's hair fall out. Seeks depressed,
unattractive SWF, 25-32, no sense of humor, for long talks about the macabre.
Handsome DWM, 40, seeks loving, romantic S/DWF
with round, bulging bubble butt and pretty face with monogamous intentions,
28-40.
Thick glasses, HP calculator, SAT 99th percentile,
knows pi to 16 digits. Great job, big house, pool. SWM, 33,
6'0", 144 lbs. Better looking than Bill Gates.

So you want to date "MY"
daughter?
Thanks to Cybersmiles
When I was in high school, I used to be scared
to death of my girlfriend's fathers, who I believe suspected me of wanting
to place my hands all over his daughter. They would open the door
and immediately give me a murderous expression, holding out a handshake
that, when gripped, felt like it could squeeze carbon into diamonds.
Now, years later, it's my turn to be the dad.
Remembering how unfairly persecuted I felt when I would pick up my dates,
I do my best to make my daughter's suitors feel even worse.
MY MOTTO: Wilt them in the living room and
they'll stay wilted all night.
As we make casual conversation while waiting for
my daughter to finish getting ready I say, "So, I see you have your nose
pierced. Is that because you're stupid, or did you merely want to
APPEAR stupid?"
As a dad, I have some basic rules, which I have
carved into two stone tablets that I have on display in my living room.
RULE ONE: If you pull into my driveway and
honk you'd better be delivering a package or bring me a pizza, because
you're sure as heck not picking anything up.
RULE TWO: You do not touch my daughter in
front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at
anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my
daughter's body, I will remove them.
RULE THREE: I am aware that it is considered
fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that
they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this
as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots.
Still, I want to be fair and open minded about
this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with
your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not
object. However, In order to assure that your clothes do not, in
fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will
take my electric staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place
around your waist.
RULE FOUR: I'm sure you've been told that
in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind
can kill you.
Let me elaborate: When it comes to sex, I am the
barrier, and I WILL kill you.
RULE FIVE: In order for us to get to know
each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of
the day. Please do not do this.
The only information I require from you is an
indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house,
and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
RULE SIX: I have no doubt you are a popular
fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine
with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you
have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but
her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make
YOU cry.
RULE SEVEN: As you stand in my front hallway
waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not
sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should
not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process which
can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of
just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the
oil in my car?
RULE EIGHT: The following places are not
appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds,
sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there
are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where
there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.
Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter
to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls,
a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to
her adam's apple. Movies with a strong romantic
or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay.
Hockey games are okay.
My daughter claims it embarrasses her to come
downstairs and find me attempting to get her date to recite these eight
simple rules from memory. So, I do expect you to be through by the
time she appears.
One time, my wife caught me having one of my daughter's
would-be suitors practice pulling into the driveway, getting out of the
car and going up to knock on the front door (he had violated rule number
one, so I figured he needed to run through the drill a few dozen times).
She asked me why I was being so hard on the boy. "Don't you remember
being that age?" she dared ask me.
"Of course I remember," I said, "Why do
you think I came up with the eight simple rules? |