Third Offence

My Favorite Personals Headlines

In any sales pitch, the headline is the most important piece of copy that will be read. It determines whether you grab someone’s attention to read on, or simply turn the page.

Here are a few of my favorite headlines from Yahoo Personals with my comments for entertainment purposes. Just to be fair, I also looked over men’s headlines and included the best of the best of those too. These are all real, copied and pasted as is.

First, the women:

Aquarian: Need I say more? – Only for those of us not versed in Tarot cards or casting chicken bones.

Thanks for Stopping By....... – Now keep the line moving please.

Online dating ??? – Oh! I thought this was the “Returns” line!

almost ready – Still putting on your face?

All the fine guys can give me a jingle  - The idea is still the same, only the colloquialisms have changed.

ARE U QQ 4 ME – I am the Walrus, QQ-ca-choo!

If there's no wind, row! – Or just… oh, never mind!

Blond, But No dumy – In case you missed it, read that again!

"Fate will bring us together" – And your sewing shears will do us part

looking for a best friend – Awww, I lost my dog too.

relaxing and letting go – I find that Metamucil works well for me.

A New Year, A New Love... – At least I can plan for next year now.

Not like other girls... – I’ve used THAT line before!

No Assembly Required – Just inflate and go.

Beautiful heart & mind ! – I was really looking for a spare Kidney.

A Girl Lookin for a Real Guy – Those plastic ones get old real quick.

Let's Talk!!! – What did I do now?

Ambitious woman in need of stable man – Does this really need any further translation?

Are you Mr Perfect???? – Not since I starred on “The Brady Bunch” but I’ll try.

NON MEMBER-Now Accepting Applications – What kind of health plan do you offer?

I believe that life is too short so you      – I guess it was a lot shorter than she expected.

Now the men:

Seeking my best friend – Aww, I lost my dog… Oh wait, that’s MY headline!

The Complete Package! – (In Bevis & Butthead voices)  “He said package”… “Uuuh, Yeah, heh, heh, heh, heh.”

Enigma seeks same – Will Enya do?

Mr. townsend in search of........... – I saw Farrah Fawcett on a Milk carton.

STRONG AND SILENT – except for my SHOUTING CAPS!

Nice guy with an edge – As seen on Television’s “The Forensic Files”.

LOST IN SPACE – Just Say No!

Texas Transplant hopes to Net a Mermaid! – I’m telling Columba Bush!

Wanted Boating Babe! – Must have class!

Do you like to ride or fly? – More colloquialisms?

I'm kind of a big deal....... – Does that come with Fries?

Fireman Looking For Fire. – Must be open minded and willing to try new things.

I swear I am a nice guy. – Another line I’ve used before.

Isn't attraction incredible? – Just look at what I can do with these two magnets!

Life Is GOOOOD – And you want to go and ruin it by dating again.

Branch up to the tall timber – And bring plenty of Acorns.

TheRocketMan007 – Who can resist that?

Hay Now!!!!! – I also have sugar cubes and apples.

Seeking Goddess to worship – Must speak Ancient Greek.

Follow me down the rabbit hole...! – More sugar cubes?

Part teddy bear, part social butterfly - Part put my ad in the wrong section.

...and a Pack of Disdain Please!

I was outside of my office the other day, enjoying that sinful pleasure known as “smoking”. Yes, I’m “one of those”.

On the first floor of my office building is a Bank. The “Designated Smoking Area” is in the back right where the drive through is. All too often, bank customers will shoot us smokers dirty looks, cough hypochondriacally, make mouth covering motions like they’re under a bio-attack, and sometimes even shoot a nasty word or two as they drive away. The rear door to the bank also shares this space with the “Designated Outcasts Area”.

Anyway, as one of my co-workers and I were puffing on our sin sticks, a rather large woman exited the door. “You know", she quipped in sing-song fashion, "smoking will kill you!”. A self satisfying grin stretched from cheek to cheek as she proudly walked by.

“So will OVEREATING!” he replied… Ohhh SNAP! You should have seen the look on her face. Yes, he broke the golden PC rule and pointed out the obvious, something we’re not supposed to do any more… with ONE exception.

Before you get mad, I too am FAT. At 5’ 9” I topped out at 262 Lbs. before I changed my eating habits. I don’t chide overweight people. Some have issues, be it medical or emotional. I see that and DO feel their pain. Good golly, I’d get out of breath walking 20 feet.. I’m merely saying look at yourself before you start to throw stones.

We now live in a world where illegal immigrants are now “undocumented workers”, juvenile delinquents are “at-risk children”, and the lazy are “unmotivated”. Now people don’t really have to be responsible for their actions or attitudes because we can slap a warm fuzzy, apologetic label on it/them and everything is one, under a big beautiful rainbow.

Even war sounds inviting with our “new speak”. We no longer have to be bothered with stories of killing, murders, war, corruption and destruction. Now we can sit back comfortably and hear tales of “collateral damage” (innocents killed), “surveillance” (spying), “mis-appropriation” (stealing), “detainees” (prisoners), “secure facility” (prison), “body counts” (deaths), “casualties” (victims), “air support” (bombing), “preemptive strike” (invasion), and my personal favorite, “ethnic cleansing” (mass murder), sounds like they’re all getting a nice warm bath, doesn’t it?

One thing hasn’t changed though, smokers don’t have a cute fuzzy to call their own. It is perfectly acceptable for someone to berate a smoker and there is no legal/hate crime repercussion lawsuit available to defend against it. “You called me a smoker and now I am emotionally damaged…” Pretty soon, we’ll probably have separate drinking fountains, bathrooms, and seating in the back of the bus. Yes, I am drawing THAT analogy here.

Oh damn! Did I point out a double standard again? I’m sorry; please don’t sue me because I offended you! I am merely “politically correct challenged” and not responsible for my own actions because I am a “victim” of society.

Oh, I am also “fresh air challenged” and tired of you whiney, not responsible for any of the worlds ails, politically correct, blinder wearing, parroting puppets telling me that my cigarette is killing you from a block away. Now shut up, jump back into your Hummer, and drive away at 9 miles per gallon and leave me alone!

Speaking of Liberace...

While searching for an appropriate image for my last post, I came across this little gem. It's a genuine Liberace stamp from The Commonwealth of Dominica

And yes, it is the lickable kind!

No Vietnamese Ever Called Me A Quiche Eater

My girlfriend told me that she was describing “her boyfriend” to a few curious female co-workers the other day. She described me as “intelligent, educated, having a fondness for fine art, literature, antiques, history, science, opera, the theater and classic movies, being an excellent cook, a decent dresser and wearing cologne that she loves.”

“Oh” said one of the women, “He’s a straight gay guy!”…

A straight gay guy? This is such a typical response in an area where men go out on Saturday night wearing the “less greasy” NASCAR hat and the Jeans with the holes only in the knees. So I guess whenever they see a man who is clean and has all his teeth, he must be gay.

I believe the latest trendy term used in the civilized world is “metrosexual” but that’s a big word for most locals. I have to admit that I had to look up metrosexual myself just to be sure.

According to the Wiki:
Some define metrosexual as "a straight man in touch with his feminine side". Others define it with more specificity, such as "a straight man, who lives in an urban environment, who is into designer clothes, art museums, musicals, and other non-macho pursuits."

Wait! Since when did these things become “gay” or even linked to sexuality at all? I don’t really see anything particularly feminine about wanting to be clean, educated and cultured. Neither do I define designer clothes as being “gay”. Just go down to Broome & Mulberry streets in NYC and ask the first Armani wearing Italian-American man you see if he’s gay.

Now in case you’re wondering, I grew up like most boys. I played with dolls, he was called GI Joe. I played with toy trucks, green army men, rode a pedal fire truck and was in the hospital so often from my rough and tumble injuries that the doctors and nurses knew me by name.

But I also had parents and grandparents who were educated and instilled in us a desire for art and culture in many different areas.

Given the above definitions of a metrosexual, then what are we to assume “real” men are? Sloppy, ignorant, close minded and filthy? Must I run with the Bulls to prove my straighthood?

I am comfortable with my “manhood” and don’t feel the need to pound my chest like a Neanderthal as a proclamation of my sexual orientation. But I swear on Liberace’s grave that I’ll scratch your eyes out if you make fun of my man bag.

More Long Walks in Hell - Part 2

You can tell a lot from someone's picture. Not just the obvious things like facial stress, clothing type, or whisky eyes, but even the surroundings they chose to be photographed in... Or simply were not aware of.

Another one of my favorite Yahoo Personals ad starts out with the headline “Something is about me”, which I am still trying to figure out. As you read on you learn that she came here from Vietnam, is STILL married and NEEDS a rich man to help her get a divorce. She is also looking for a man who can keep her in the “lifestyle she is accustomed to” which requires a salary of “$100,000 or more” to do just that.

Judging from her picture, she is accustomed to living in a land fill. Something is about her, all right and I mean EVERYWHERE! Behind her are piles of newspaper, clothing strewn about the floor, empty food cans on the counter and more clothing hung over chairs and doorknobs. Her headline should be changed to something that makes more sense like “Lazy slob needs sugar daddy to manage my life for me”.

Moving on, I finally came across a normal looking profile. Terry is a 49 year old from my general area. Her headline reads “Looking for Mr. right (LOL)”. Ok, Terry has a good sense of humor, that’s a start. Let’s see her picture…

What? WOW! Terry looks GREAT for 49. She must eat right, exercise, and stay out of strong sunlight and… Um, why is Terry wearing a graduation cap and gown? And why is there a little gold “79” on her tassel? Oh wait; there are more pictures of Terry below…

Oh man! These are no good. They must have been taken in a fun house mirror. That CAN’T be Terry, can it? How did they make her skin look like that? Is this Terry’s mom?

Can I get Baboon Insurance?

When I was a kid in the ‘60’s, there was a show on Television called “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom” with host Marlin Perkins.

Marlin Perkins was the original nature show host. He came long before Steve Irwin or Jeff Corwin were even conceived. Wild Kingdom became the template for all nature shows that followed, and is a legend in its own right.

My sisters and I would watch Wild Kingdom each week, sitting before the TV in awe of Nature’s beauty and wonder. However, as we got a little older, some glaring peculiarities became obvious.

Marlin seemed to always be far from the action while Jim, his assistant, was always in the jaws of death. The narration would go something like this:

“While I hover in a helicopter at 10,000 feet, my assistant Jim wrestles with the Pride of Lions below”.

Then there would be a commercial break that was always started off with a plug for the show’s sponsor by Marlin himself…

“The Bengal Tiger uses his razor sharp claws and teeth to rip open the soft flesh of its prey… Mutual of Omaha makes sure you are covered, should you be involved in an auto accident.”

Wait, does he mean if you hit a Tiger?  Maybe if the Tiger rips open the soft flesh of your Pontiac?

Ok, I’m exaggerating, but that’s what the show became for us. Now we just sat there waiting for the plugs so we could roll around the floor in belly-aching laughter as we tried to outdo each others monologues. My sisters and I had a habit of doing this to just about everything we saw. Pint sized cynics that left no subject untouched.

Why am I writing this? I was thinking of my ex dog Dino, a Rhodesian Ridgeback which were bred to hunt Lions, and my ex Neighbors who had seven Lions in their back yard (I kid you not) and this just popped into my head. Guess I’ll save that for another post.

Cape Conspiracy?

I was scanning my neighborhood on Google maps when I noticed this street, North of where I live.

 

In case you can’t read it, it’s called Mullet Rd. “So what’s the big deal?” you may be asking yourself. “You’re near the ocean and a Mullet is a type of fish…”

This is true, but if you live in the Redneck Riviera it also has another meaning. I am referring, of course, to that hideous “Achy-Breaky-Big Mistakey” hair style that goes by the same name. Aside from being the divorce capital of the United States, Cape Canaveral HAS to be one of the leading Crystal Methed, Mullet capitals of the free world.

If you’re still not convinced of the true nature of the road’s name, allow me to demonstrate below.

See? It’s even shaped like a Mullet. This is right up there with the conspiracy theory of Washington DC laid out as a Freemason Pentangle.

More Long Walks in Hell - Part 1

During my online dating travels I came across just too many weirdities to mention in my first post. In fact, I could make an entire blog on just this subject since it's an endless source of entertainment. It's like EBay for People!

I take these juicy tidbits from Yahoo Personals and condense them for your (and my) entertainment.

It can be true that “a picture tells a thousand words”. Let’s take “Teal” for instance. Teal (that’s what she says her name is) starts out her headline with “NO LOSERS!!!!!” just as I wrote here, all caps and 5 exclamation points. In her “standard information” about herself (which is filled out with drop down box choices) she is “Separated”, that’s separated, not divorced or single. Has “Blonde” hair, even though her black roots are clearly visible in her pictures. She lives “With Parents” (Teal states her age as 29), and she’s a “High School” grad.

Teal’s employment status is listed as “I’ll tell you later”, which is the standard response when an answer is not picked. Her occupation and income also have the same response (yes, they have a drop down box for income for the terminally shallow). From this we can surmise that Teal is unemployed and broke.

However, in Teal’s list of what she WANTS in a man she is looking for a guy who is “Single” or “Divorced” (but NOT separated) with “No Kids”, is a “Post Graduate”, is employed “Full Time” and makes an income of at least “$75,000 - $99,999 or up." All of which begs the question, who is the “LOSER!!!!!” by comparison here?

It is also worth noting that “Teal” has a picture of herself wearing one of those large metal personalized belt buckles with a name on it. The name on her buckle is “Amber”, which leads me to the further conclusion that Teal/Amber/Loser is also a complete moron!

Mengele Lives (And wears floral print house dresses)

Remember that play my girlfriend and I were going to when we stopped for a drink and met the observant Australian? If not that’s ok. You can go back and pick up that story if you want to.

So we get to the Cocoa Village Play House, a moderate theater that is one of the only places in the area to see a live performance, and walk down to take out seats. The theater is filling up with a variety of people ranging from teenagers in shorts or jeans to ladies in evening gowns escorted by gentlemen in expensive suits. This is not unusual here. Florida is very casual and people will wear shorts and sandals at even the finest restaurants. This has nothing to do with the story, I just like having opportunities to paint pictures of my home and local culture, but I digress.

Theresa, my girlfriend sat on my left and there were two empty seats on my right. “With a little luck”, I thought to myself “those seats were not sold and I can spread out a little”… Unfortunately, luck is not something that smiles on me very often.

The lights dim, the curtain goes up and the play begins. Suddenly I have some woman’s large derrière pressing against my cheek as she tried to squeeze it into that empty seat on my right. This wasn’t just a simple “take the seat” maneuver but rather a scientific undertaking that reminded me of the Discovery Channel series “Mega Movers”. Before you get all mad at me and start flaming, it wasn’t really her size, it was that she was just awkward and seemed confused or something. That and she somehow got past the “carry on” size limit with her bag which she was struggling with. She finally settled in with a few shifting maneuvers, a grunt or two and the positioning of her luggage at her feet… and mine.

And then it hit me… A solid wall of cheap, and I mean CHEAP perfume overtook me like a WWI Mustard Gas attack.

I hadn’t smelled anything this bad since my 8th grade graduation dance. This was some kind of maniacal concoction of wood alcohol, Moth balls, Lemon Pledge, plastic flowers, Zyklon-B, and dead Chipmunks. If this stuff is flammable, and I am sure that it is, then I would suggest running your car on it, because after all, who can beat it at a dollar a gallon? I am also sure the spray nozzle is conveniently shaped like a gas pump, or at least you would think so because NO ONE wears THAT much perfume on PURPOSE!

I took my Playbill and attempted to fan some oxygen into my lungs from my left side but to no avail. “Must… breathe” I gasped as the theater walls closed in on me and my world became blurry. Not only did my breathing become labored, but my eyes watered up too making it almost impossible to see the play.

Soon tears were streaming down my cheeks as the play went on. I almost forgot to mention, it was a musical. Yes, here I was, crying my eyes out and choking for air as the song continued, “I was deprived of a young girl's dream, by the cruel force of nature from the blue. Instead of a night full of romance supreme…”

Now I don’t know about you, but if I saw a grown man crying to the play “Grease” I would really have to wonder!

It’s For You… And You, and You, and You, and…

I’m at dinner the other night with my girlfriend at a nice, quiet, romantic, candle-lit Italian restaurant. Soft Italian folk music wafted through the air where it mingled with the delicate aromas of the delicious fare being offered. The atmosphere was absolutely perfect for a relaxing meal when suddenly it was interrupted from the table next to us.

BA-BLEEP! - “Hey Joe, where are you?”
BA-BLEEP! – “where eating at (restaurants name), just sat down”
BA-BLEEP! – “oh yeah? (loud static) unintelligible, have?
BA-BLEEP! – “What?”
BA-BLEEP! – (loud static) What (garbled) they have?”
BA-BLEEP! – “What do I have?”
BA-BLEEP! – “(unintelligible) on the menu?”
BA-BLEEP! – “ Oh, it’s Italian”
BA-BLEEP! – “Anything good? (loud static)”
BA-BLEEP! – “Let’s see, they have Lasagna, Pasta Pescatore, Fettuccini Alfredo…(more long descriptions follow)”.
BA-BLEEP! – “(more inane dribble interrupted by very loud static and periodic drop offs)
BA-BLEEP!
BA-BLEEP!
BA-BLEEP!

Ah yes, it was one of my favorite “look at me” items, the Nextel cell phone with the “Walkie-Talkie” feature. Now everyone can enjoy BOTH sides of your idiotic conversation.

This wasn’t the first time I have encountered this at a restaurant. Before it was during lunch time on a weekday so you figure that people are working, some are on call at a moments notice and need to be in touch with the office. This is acceptable, to me at least, and I understand it.

But this was different. Aside from the several tables with couples on a date, there were some larger groups and a few families with kids. Even the KIDS were quiet and well behaved which should be a big clue even for the terminally clue-less but NO! Big, loud-mouthed, blowhard Joe had to start reciting the entire menu to his static plagued, auditory challenged, interrupting, Nextel friend.

Was it just me? Am I the only one who has a sense of “manners” any more? Maybe I am just simply behind the times and these types of things are the new acceptable behaviors. Or maybe I am just simply “intolerant” which can be used as the new warm fuzzy word for “bigot” which is really a word meaning “you don’t agree with me and I am right so fuck you”.

I would hope that to most people it would be obvious that this just isn’t the kind of place to suffer your personal, loud, half unintelligible, half static conversation with the people around you. To me, it’s almost as bad as cutting a loud fart in an Opera House. I don’t want to hear flatulence during Carmen, and I don’t want to hear your Nextel during my Antipasto either!

As my eyes scanned the room I realized that I was not the only one annoyed by Joe’s recital. Couples mumbled softly to each other as they shot looks in Joe’s direction. The only ones who didn’t seem to notice were the parents but keeping those kids quiet was demanding their full attention, and I thank them for that.

With no end in site, and Joe only now just getting to the Entrée section of the menu, I could suffer this no more. I turned around and in my best tough, Philly-Italian style accent I said “Yo Joe, Tell him to join you already, We’re trying to eat over here!”

As Joe’s face began taking on the color of tomato bisque, a soft clapping arose from a few of the tables around us. He and his date/wife/girlfriend went outside to continue the conversation and never returned. Now if I could just get the same reaction on the beach!