Sometimes, when I feel down, I look at personal ads and thank the Good Lord I’m not single. I’ve never dated during a time when online ads and phone-texting were a part of the formula and I don’t miss being single. I’d like to say this is an original piece by me, yet somehow I think it is really just a conglomeration of all the bad personal ads I’ve ever read by women.

Giving it a go- W4M 32


Let me start by saying if you’re not into overweight Asian-American women, then don’t bother. Go ahead and click the little x in the corner if you’re not interested. I don’t want any haters.

First of all let me say that I’m NOT looking for sex! If all you want is sex, then you’re looking in the wrong place mister. I prefer to take things slow and be treated like a lady.

As far as looks go I’m not perfect (5’ 2” 250lbs, but I’m working on it!), and I don’t expect you to be either, however I do want someone who takes care of himself. I have a thing with teeth. I need the man I’m dating to have great teeth! I love a good smile. And I don’t mean to be a hater, but I like my guys tall. Preferably over six feet, but I absolutely refuse to date anyone under 5’10”.

If you have any problem with kids, then you should stop reading right now because I have two boys that are the love of my life. I’m NOT looking for a baby daddy since both of my boys’ fathers are successful minor league baseball players with a very good chance at going pro. So my babies are taken care of.

Please, please, please don’t contact me unless you have a job. I’ve dated too many losers and have realized you can’t change them and they almost always end up being players or haters and I’m too old for that anymore.

As a busy, single mom, I need someone willing to cook and rub my feet after a long day (ohh I love foot rubs).  So if you want to buy me a cup of coffee sometime or go to a game, let me know. I WILL NOT reply unless you include a photo!

No haters.

The Hypnotist

I see billboards for weight-loss hypnotists all the time and I've thought about trying it out, but I'm afraid this is what they do to people.

Somehow diplomas on a wall gives a place credential. Somehow Cal felt fine handing over $150 to the pretty young thing working the front counter.  The ads, the billboards--they finally wore him down and he decided it was time to do something. The last time he put together enough courage to look in a mirror he thought his gut looked like a frowning cyclops

***

“You’re relaxed, you’re on a boat, you’re relaxing on a boat.” A white guy in a Ralph Lauren button up shirt and blue jeans sat cross-legged with a notepad, talking languidly to Cal. “You feel the breeze as the boat gently rocks, gently rocks.”

Cal sighed, relaxed. The hypnotist had put him in a trance.

“The boat gently rocks, you’re relaxed. You’re relaxed as the boat gently rocks you.”

Cal sighed again and subconsciously began to rock, his massive gut wobbled from side to side like a water bed resting in a too-small frame.

“The sun feels good against your forehead.”

Carl smiled, content and happy. He owned a boat years ago, but sold it when it became physically hard for him to fit behind the wheel. In his trance, the bitter loss of the boat disappeared and he was back on Candle Lake, sunning on the bow of his speedboat.

“A beautiful woman comes and offers you a strawberry. The juice runs down your chin. It’s sweet.”

Carl smiled stupidly and wiped his chin in a lazy motion.

“Now she brings you a twinkie covered in chocolate, you grab it and take a bite. It’s sandy,” The hypnotist sat upright and began to yell, “IT”S  SANDY AND GRITTY. IS THIS TWINKIE FILLED WITH SAND? OH MY GOD YOU’RE EATING SAND! NOW LOOK, LOOK AT IT. IT’S NOT SAND, WHAT’S IN YOUR HAND? OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? THAT’S NOT A TWINKIE YOU’VE BITTEN INTO A DEAD RACOON”

Carl frowned, frightened, he batted at the air in front of his mouth, spitting bursts of air like they were flakes of chewing tobacco. In a panic he waved his arms, but his body lay paralyzed.

“YOU’VE BITTEN INTO A DEAD RACOON THAT GOT INTO THE KITTY LITTER BOX. OH JESUS CHRIST WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? LOOK UP! THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IS RECOILING IN HORROR CAUSE YOU’VE JUST EATEN KITTY LITTER FROM A DEAD RACOON’S STOMACH. O MY GOD, O MY GOD

The hypnotist relaxed, the red vinyl of his chair squeaked as he calmed. “Now you’re okay, you’re in an office, getting help, getting help for your food addiction. Next time you eat, keep in mind: You may be eating a DEAD RACOON. Now gently sit up, and on the count of three wake up. One, two.........three.”

Sorority Girl: Step Won

So I love me a good monologue and Northwest comic, Kelsey Cook, does a great sorority girl on her YouTube Channel. This is a great piece of sketch comedy--short and sweet and it's performed really well. In fact a ridiculous website call Total Sorority/Total Frat Move posted four of Kelsey's sorority girl video under their Friday Fails. In my eyes, that is a success.

She was cool enough to let me use it and sent me the script. If you dig this one watch the other videos featuring Courtney. Also check out Kelsey's website here.



Hi, I’m Courtney! And I’m here today to teach you how to be a WSU sorority girl. I’m gonna tell you the top five ways to be the best sorority girl ever. I personally am part of the Alpha Feta Zylophone sorority—AFZ for life! So number one: the first way to be the best sorority girl ever is to dress like a rich sex bomb who’s super easy to sleep with. This is gonna require two different outfits. Your daytime outfit is going to consist of your Northface sweatshirt, your Victoria’s Secret sweatpants—preferably with writing on the butt area so you draw attention to your nice butt—and your Ugg boots. This outfit lets people know that you have money and that you’re smart about spending it. Your second outfit is your nighttime clubbing and going-out outfit. For this look, you want to find the tightest, tinniest dress—and remember, don’t wear any panties with it. At the beginning of this step, I talked about dressing like a rich sex bomb who’s pretty easy to sleep with. Guys don’t like to work for sex, they just want you to give it to them in the club bathroom. Wear heels that are too high for you to walk in, because then you look vulnerable and easy, like a new born baby deer!

I'm Gay and I Work at Chick-Fil-A

 Since the story of Chick-Fil-A's CEO denouncing same-sex marriage came out, I've thought about writing a piece from the perspective of a gay CFA employee. Statistically, CFA has to employee at least a few homosexuals considering how many people they employ. In fact, after writing this piece, I found a really great, non-fiction piece written anonymously by an honest-to-goodness lesbian Chick-Fil-A employee. Check it out at the The Daily Beast.

   
From the Countertop of Derick Hill: A Fast Food Connoisseur's Confession


by Derick Hill

For those of you who follow my blog regularly and read carefully, you all know I’m a fast food worker and I love fast food. Every new item in every national chain is reviewed here the week it debuts. From burger to salads, from bacon sundaes to deep fried cheese curds--you can get the scoop here and I appreciate all my readers (don’t forget to donate!). But this week I’m going to veer away from my normal review. As some of you know, I’m gay. As all of you know, I’m a fast food worker--but what I’ve kept secret is which fast food restaurant I work at. It may come as a surprise to you that I work at the decidedly anti-gay Chick-Fil-A.

Now if you live in a cave or only use the internet to read my blog, then you may not have heard that Chick-Fil-A has caused a bit of stir lately what with the CEO decrying gay marriage and everything. It’s not like it was a big secret or anything. Every manager is given a bible and we get every Sunday off (which is nice). The biggest problem with Mr. Chick-Fil-A himself making the stance public is now I have another secret. The first secret is the one I keep at work (I’m not out, for obvious reasons) and now, to avoid guilt trips, I usually don’t tell my gay friends where I work. Well, I thought about it and I’m just too big for two closets, so here I'm telling the world: Yes, I’m gay and I work at Chick-Fil-A.

Some people see it as a contradiction for a gay man to work at a corporation that supports Christian Conservative values, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. Telling dates that I spend all day handling cock-meat is a great way to break the ice and I get all the free chicken sandwiches I can eat. For a bear like me (215 and hairy as the day is long, thank you very much!) working in a place with as much Chick-n-Strips as I can eat in an 8-hour shift is a major financial benefit.

    In all seriousness, the people at Chick-Fil-A are the nicest group of people I’ve ever met. As long as I can put aside their systemic and dogmatic hatred of me and anyone I may want to have a relationship with, then we get along swimmingly. I know some of my friends think I’m crazy, but  let me tell you, I’ve worked at a lot of fast food joints and Chick-Fil-A pays the best and offers great medical benefits (which I’m gonna need with all fried chicken I eat!).
    Truth be told, I come from a Southern Baptist home and the years I’ve spent overcoming what I call the “Sexual Miseducation of Derick Hill” left me alone and without much family. When I interviewed with Chick-Fil-A four years ago, it felt like home. Just like my family, they wanted to fill my head with a self-hatred disguised as religion and clog my arteries with food disguised as nutrition. Sometimes we all wear comfortable clothes that we may have outgrown simply because they are familiar.
    And that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s easy and comfortable for me to stay put. Everyone does it. Maybe you don’t recycle when you’re out of town cause you “don’t want to impose” on your hosts, or you don’t speak up after you hear a racist joke, or maybe you want to lose some pounds but don’t want to give up your daily drive-through--hey, I get it. Believe me, I get it. So, the next time you come to my counter and order your chicken sandwich with a pickle in it,  I’ll be sure to serve it with a smile. I may even judge you the same way you may judge me, assuming you’re like the rest of the country: equal parts human and hypocrite.