Tuesday, 27 November 2007

Withdrawal Causes

N.B. I found this in my blogger account saved as a draft from many moons ago. I'm posting it because I find my obvious unbridled bitterness hilarious. More so because I can't even remember why I was being so horrid.

P.S. Ladies have no fear, I am still available, and sexy.

In the war of sex (and it is a war, if people like Matt Ridley or Robin Baker have any credibility) I've become a conscientious objector. That is to say, I'm withdrawing myself from the game, so that I can stop not being a winner. I figure this is best for all concerned.

Perhaps I'm supremely paranoid in nature, but I do expect the worse in order to lessen the chance of unpleasant surprises. If it smells like sweeties, and it looks like sweeties, and it feels like sweeties, then it's probably a trap. This applies well to womanity. If she's smart, pretty, funny, and generally awesome, did you check to make sure she doesn't have a penis?

You remember that spoilt kid who always used to throw a hissy fit when he lost at football, and said he was going home, taking his ball with him so no one else could play? I'm that kid, and I'm taking both my balls. The only difference is that no one will be begging me to stay — the field is full of balls, shuttle cocks, and all manner of things on offer for females to play with. The market is saturated, bringing value close to zero.

There are options of course, but only in the same way there are options when you have a surprise baby. In the face of fierce competition, you can either find a niche, or fight back with Ultraman like force. The latter is out, since it requires effort, and the former is a no-go because my niche attributes consist of being able to say "I am an umbrella" in Japanese, and a mild aversion to mushrooms, neither of which have much monetary value, which is what females want. So let's see my efforts at the third option, and what my Generic Dating Website Profile would look like ... if I were a shpako:

About me: hahaha, I like you!

About you: must be hots!

Ideal date: teh sexs?

Last book read: how to be hots.

Keywords: sexing, chillaxing, fun, drinking, hanging with my boys, keywords! lol!1!!!!!!!1, sexing

Favourite film: spiderman 10 (coz I'm ahead of the game!)!

Tagline: I like to have fun!

Yes, this is the third option; joining the winning team. Now if I could be that guy without having to go outside and beat myself stupid every five minutes, I would presumably be irresistible to woman, or so the current evidence would suggest.

I actually saw that by the way, the line "I like to have fun". I was wondering about the type of person who hates to have fun.

afraz "of the third moon of Sol" khan

Saturday, 17 November 2007

Let Me Help You

I'm not dead, just busy giving bad advice to friends. I wish I could tell you about them, but then they would know too. That's the trouble with keeping a public blog, you can't write anything interesting. Blogs by definition are boring.

Let's tackle the problem by using strained associations and ghastly metaphors, so that the story is mutated beyond what the persons I'm talking about could recognise, whilst still maintaining coherence and meaning. Also, let's never construct a sentence like the previous one again. It was a baddie.
One day, some one called Daniel Braunstein, who could quite frankly be anyone at all and not the very same Daniel Braunstein who you and I know, met a girl called MooMoo (so named for her cow like attributes — prophetic were her parents). MooMoo and Daniel Braunstein "robbed a bank together".
The thing about euphemisms for sex is that they really don't have to make any sense whatsoever. Try putting anything at all in double quotes and see what it sounds like. For the full effect, do the rabbit ears with your fingers whilst saying it and use emphasise like there's no tomorrow. I imagine that's what Jesus did when he said things like "And they "knew" each other". Anyway back to the story which may or may not be true godihopetheyrenevergoingtohearaboutthispost.
After MooMoo knew Daniel Braunstein, she did something not dissimilar to cutting off his manhood and dancing around the appendage whilst Daniel Braunstein writhed in notjoy.
I realise that I must stop the story here since it's becoming wonderfully apparent who I'm really talking about. Obviously it's not Daniel Braunstein, who is so happily attached to Gloria Segreto that he would never cheat on her (on the 9th of November at 12:37 pm). I'm not so stupid as to mention Fanshawe's name in such a delicate post about his exploits.

Hello Fanshawe.

afraz "acrimonious alliteration advocates are always consistent" khan