Classifieds: Personals (Single for a Little Mingle!)
I have been in a variety of disastrously masochistic long term relationships, with consistently scarring consequences. Recently I got drunk on vodka alone and “Googled” my ex-girlfriends. But I like being single, it’s totally great. Anytime I want to just lay in bed and cry, which is a lot, I can. No interruptions.
I think I’m just at a point in my life where I want to meet people and experience what’s out there. You know, just throw myself in the fray and see what happens.
I wouldn’t say that I date a lot. But it’s all about quality, not quantity. What matters is that you make yourself emotionally available, give yourself the chance to get hurt. For instance, just a few days ago I said “hi” to a woman in the street. She didn’t even give me a look like she wanted me to. I just went for it. It was great! And that’s what life’s about, stopping to smell the roses. You can’t let yourself be afraid of intimacy.
So…umm, write me a letter…I guess…if you want. But if not that’s totally cool. There are plenty of fish in the sea. That’s not to say that you’re not great, because you are. I mean, if I were to go for someone, it would totally be you because you are a rad chick. I’m just being honest, you know. When I meet someone cool I just gotta let ’em know. That’s just the kind of guy I am. I’ve been…uh…drinking a little bit. I’m not drunk, though. I’m pretty much sober. I’ve just had a couple drinks. Drinks…I like drinks. Have you ever had a lunchbox? It’s the coolest shooter, perfect for like a brunch situation. You take a shot of amoretto and dump it in a pint glass filled half and half with beer and orange juice. Brunch is pretty cool. Have you ever had a mimosa? They are great, really great. So…I guess if any of you ladies out there wants to go out for a drink sometime, drop me a line. That’s not to say all I do is drink. I like lots of things. Like TV for example. You ever watch TV? It’s really cool.
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About the Author
For the last 8 years, the author and a few dozen fellow travelers have been plotting to overthrow the United States government by force. Their [secret] group is called the Protectorate. The Protectorate receive their funding from El Salvadorian Neosocialist revolutionaries with ties to the head of Venezuela's Banco Central de Venezuela [the equivalent of our Federal Reserve], Gaston Para Luzardo. This funding derives in large part from arms sales to fledgling Third World plutocracies. The proceeds from these arms sales are laundered through a Ukranian contact living in Bolivia known simply as “Boris.” “Boris” launders the money by converting it to gold bouillon and British Pound Sterling that are transported to Caracas via a red 400 Hawker XP piloted by Johann Guttenberg, a German expatriot and sometime mercenary with a penchant for Shizer films and all they entail. Johann’s father, Gerrhardt Guttenberg, was a soldier in the Third Reich and many people believe that Johann’s superior interrogation skills derive from Gerrhardt’s teachings.
Once the cargo arrives in Caracas, deputies of Venezuela’s Ministerio de la Defensa secret said cargo to a substation in San Cristobal operated by Manuel Pablo Contrares, a Cuban intellectual militarist trained by members of Mossad, Israel’s secret service. Manuel, a reliable if not temperamental loyalist, distributes cocaine [or “cocaina”] under the guise of a textile manufacturing concern misleadingly named “Los Chicos.” The profits from the sales of this cocaine distributorship are the primary source of funding for the Protectorate’s weaponry, training facilities located 12 miles Northeast of Uberlandia, Brazil, as well as its extensive network of subversive underground press.
Once the cargo arrives in Caracas, deputies of Venezuela’s Ministerio de la Defensa secret said cargo to a substation in San Cristobal operated by Manuel Pablo Contrares, a Cuban intellectual militarist trained by members of Mossad, Israel’s secret service. Manuel, a reliable if not temperamental loyalist, distributes cocaine [or “cocaina”] under the guise of a textile manufacturing concern misleadingly named “Los Chicos.” The profits from the sales of this cocaine distributorship are the primary source of funding for the Protectorate’s weaponry, training facilities located 12 miles Northeast of Uberlandia, Brazil, as well as its extensive network of subversive underground press.
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