I've been alive on this lovely corruption-filled blue marble we call Earth for about seventeen years now. When I was about five years old I discovered quite possibly the best thing in the world. Something that was always around me, smelled like flowers, and a lot of other boys were getting into it, too. That's right, I'm talking about technology. Women, however came in a close second. I've already got enough technology to give me carpal tunnel syndrome and some high-quality cancer, so my next priority is to get myself a hoe. And then to stop using stupid words like hoe.
Now that I've established that I want a woman, one must ask, "Hey, you studly bastard, what're you looking for in a sex puppet?"
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Sarah Michelle Gellar lookalikes are always welcome to make hot love to me. |
That's not a very simple question to ask a picky guy such as me. First and foremost (and I know this is going to make me sound like a shallow asshole), I'd like to say that my perfect woman has got to be attractive. Yes, looks are aren't supposed to matter blah blah blah, but would you really want to date a misshapen little gnome with a face nasty enough to make most rapists puke? I think not. At least I'm not going to say "I want blonde hair, blue eyes..." like I'm ordering a slave over the internet. Oh shut up. It's not like you haven't.
If I knew what women were thinking at all times, and I don't, I'd imagine they think about money all day. That and lying to men. And then laughing about lying to men. And then menstruating. Hey, nobody said this paragraph had to be relevant.
I want a girl who can make me laugh. Not laugh because she just asked a teacher if you can change your birthday, but laugh because she said something that she made up on her own. And anecdotes don't count. If I have to hear another girl start a story with "Oh my god, it was soooo funny!" and then proceed to tell me about the time their bra came undone during Thanksgiving dinner and they proceeded to have sex with their drag queen uncle Francis. Why do all women have an uncle Franis who prefers pink lingerie to boxers? Women are weird.
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Free middle finger with every purchase of an obnoxious teenager!
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See that sexy playa on the left? Neither do I. But there's a picture of me.
The following section will inform you of how incredibly sexy I am. The information about me will be presented in the traditional statistic style.
Name: Henry. I'd list my last name but I don't want to be stalked and murdered until I'm at least 21.
Birth Date: July 28, 1984. My horoscope symbol thingy is Leo, which means jack shit.
Height: 6 feet and a couple inches. That's like two and a half midgets.
Weight: Thinner than Oprah when she was fat but larger than those starving third world children. There, that was vague enough.
Favorite Color: Any color that isn't purple or pink. Or a rainbow.
Favorite STD: I'm all about the syphilis.
Favorite Music: I'm not gonna say I listen to "everything" like every other nimrod in America. I like punk, ska, a little metal and non-ghetto rap. If rap says "nigga" or some other word that ruins the English language, I don't like it. I can appreciate classical and oldies if I have to, but I'm not about to listen to that stuff voluntarily. Oh yeah, I forgot one thing. Fuck pop music. That's for people who can't search out what they really like. That or they're really, really inbred. |
The perfect woman needs a good sense of humor. I've already established that shitty anecdotes do not make someone funny, but there's more to being amusing than not talking about your transexual relatives. My perfect woman needs to talk about beating up crack addict homeless people and stealing their shopping carts. Such gibberish usually never leaves a woman's mouth. Instead, normal women waste my time with talks about shopping, getting drunk and slutting around, and about how they're never, ever going to date me. They either say that to me or just stand away at a distance and point at me yelling, "That's him, officer! He's the one with the binoculars and the donkey!" If I had a restraining order for every time a woman said that I'd have a lot of restraining orders. Oh wait, I do.
In all seriousness though, I'm not such a bastard. In fact, I'd bet that I would treat a girl better than pretty much any guy at my school. To show how much better I am than the other guys, I'll compare me to those other dipshits.
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Other Asshole Guys: |
Henry: |
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Unexpectedly kick your ass all the time. |
Warns you before kicking your ass by screaming "It's time for a wuppin', wench!" |
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Taking classes easily within the intellectual boundaries of a chimp. Insult you with words like "hoe" and "bitch". |
Taking advanced classes so he can insult you with bigger words like "prostitute" and "concubine". |
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Go to football games to either play in it or sit in the stands and grunt. |
Goes to football games to fuck with you. Yes, you. |
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Don't shower. |
Bathes regularly. |
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Need crack cocaine to feed horrible addiction. |
Needs hot lovin' to compensate for all the years spent without a woman. |
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Eat cock. |
Doesn't eat cock. |
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Quote Austin Powers as if it was still funny to do that. |
That's not my bag baby, yeah. |
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Has sex with your sister when you're sleeping |
Has sex with your cat while you're sleeping. Well, it's technically cyber sex, but I guess that's close enough. |
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Try to make everyone feel inferior to them to hide a deep psychological complex |
Tries to make webpages that don't suck to hide the fact that he's secretly an Orthodox Amish girl. |
What kind of girl wouldn't want a guy like me? I don't eat cock, I hate football, and I don't quote that overused pile of cinematic gerbil turds.
Plus, I know a lot about what women secretly want (See pictures to the right).
So not only am I knowledgeable about women, I'm better than everybody else. And I'm modest, too!
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Flowers: the traditional way of bribing women to have sex with you.
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Giving a woman chocolates is a subtle way of saying, "Eat up, fatty. You owe me sex."
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The ultimate female aphrodesiac
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Well, that's me, ladies. I'm kind, compassionate, retarded, shagadelic, and I don't use technology because my religion forbids it. I promise you I won't talk about transvestite relatives and I'll try to mention robbing the poor whenever possible. I'll give the right woman anything she wants as long as it's fake flowers, cheap candy, or Monopoly money. So remember, if you want a desperate guy and you happen to look like a supermodel, feel free to talk to me because chances are you'll get a boyfriend. Or punched in the face for wasting my time.
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