Sex fantasies and all… (#humor #sex #love & #sarcasm)

I don’t believe in love at first sight. I’m so easily distracted when I see hot guys, that chances are if I did fall in love instantly, I’d run him over with a truck. And if we are to base this on trial and error from the past, my history shows that every man I did fall in love with at first sight usually ended up being disposed of rather quickly and those I said I’d never date in a million years ended up in my bedroom. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule. I once saw a guy walking into a nightclub and decided I wanted him. It’s not so weird though given the week before I had written a long list of everything I wanted in a man (most notably that he should be a filmmaker with dark curly hair and speak fluent French) and this man fit the bill. Not that I could have known that when he walked in the door, but maybe I was psychic? Or maybe I created him if it is true we create our reality? However, the time I said I wanted to marry an American millionaire I ended up with two, none of whom I married. I simultaneously asked for my soul mate and the problem was probably that my soul mate wasn’t a millionaire. Yet. I can only hope he’s become one since.

Sometimes when I feel bad about my non-existent love life and my past escapades I retort to reading Sex and the City quotes, because if I fucked up at least I will be sure to remember Samantha fucked a lot more. That could, potentially, be seen as a depressing fact as well though, in which case I have to bring out chocolate to see things in another light. Chocolate, however, is not well-known for its sense of humor. For that you might need to grab a bottle of wine.

If the wine makes you sentimental, instead of giggly, it will remind you that the reason you dated fucked up men is because you were fucked up. This means you are suddenly overcome by an urge to work on your beloved business as a form of escapism, as it will remind you that there is passion in your life, even if it doesn’t come with an orgasm. If you really can’t get your head out of the gutter you pick up a cheap novel about ever lasting romance and convince yourself that if the fifty year old heroine who suffers from a lot more psychological issues than you manages to find some hot dude who swears his undying love to her, so will you. You try to disregard the fact that the book was written by a woman and has more illogical flaws to the storyline than any writer/director could possibly ignore. Especially the fact that the man in the story is hot, nice and faithful.

Then, suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve become a sarcastic bitch to cover up the fact that your favorite feel good movie is “We Bought a Zoo” because Matt Damon as a single dad is utterly irresistible and your dream of having the perfect family is completely illogical when looking at your past endeavors in the dating field. So you decide to write a new list of what you want in a man that starts with “He gets me and he loves me…” and ends with “P.S. he can also dance and he does have a six-pack” “P.P.S. He’s not an addict, criminal, psychologically unstable, manic depressive, prone to snoring, bad in bed, living in a different country or with his mother permanently, fucking anyone I know, unfaithful, or prone to any other potentially damaging thing.”

It sucks having a gooey heart, protected by walls of sarcasm three stories high, doesn’t it? It sucks even more trying to let go of the walls and be like “Here I am. Matt Damon fantasies and all.”

Writing down all my dirty fantasies. I mean I’m sure Matt Damon had to take care of a lot of mud in that zoo….

Mac Sex with an extra topping of caramel sauce, please…

I’ve been through the terrible, terrible divorce not only from my Macbook, but my iPad, Blackberry and Canon camera in the last few months. To topple it off Haagen-Dazs ice cream costs a fortune in Cape Town so I can’t cure my anguish. I’m feeling dreadful. How the hell do you recover from these things? I was practically married to Mr Macbook – handcuffs and all (until I accidentally poured tea over him in my sleep and killed him off – but it was an accident. I never had any mean intentions – promise. I loved him to bits. Literally. I think he was starting to fall to pieces after a five and a half year long marriage where he had followed me all over the world – Paris, New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Marrakech, Maui, London, Malmo, Copenhagen, Poland, Tenerife, San Francisco, San Diego, Stockholm…my baby got to travel) and had an intense affair with Mr Canon till someone stole him from me in the most appalling manner – I literally found he had disappeared from my bed and gone off with a MAN. He must have been bi-sexual all along. I’ve managed to get a new Blackberry, but we always did have a hate love relationship – it’s slightly better now because it’s my only affair. But it’s not satisfactory. I crave a nice Mac Sundae toppled by Canon caramel sauce.

Can you feel my anguish? I’m not even getting make-up sex. I’m riding a friggin PC dinosaur. I don’t know how it survived the ice age. If I don’t get Mac sex soon I’m gonna die. Extinguished by association to PCs. Sigh.

On a serious note – if I don’t get a new camera for the project I’m doing out here I’m screwed in an entirely different way than screwed by sexy man screwed. Time to work those go getter muscles…it’s time to make some good shit happen. Bring on the macmacmacmac…magic!!!

A romantic comedy starring me, myself and I…

If you didn’t already know, my life often resembles a movie…you know one of those comedies where the main character is blonde and end up in situations to prove the validity of blonde jokes. Only yesterday I packed down the clothes I was meaning to wear before heading to the shower…and then had to unpack everything again coming out of the shower…but that’s not even funny, that’s just blonde.

Tomorrow we have proper rom com material happening though as I’m attending a wedding where I’m the official wedding photographer…together with my ex. We used to compete incessantly over who could take the best photos and I remember this argument we had in Venice where he was angry because I was taking better photos than him and I was angry because he was paying his camera more attention than he was paying me. I am actually looking forward to the wedding, as I don’t mind hanging out with him, but you gotta give it cred for being potentially the best ever set up for a rom com, no?

And then today, I went to pick something up from an accountant, whom I’ve chased, sworn over and begged and pleaded to over various issues for the last 12 months. He often sounds like a combination of wanting to die, or kill me when I call him…for understandable reasons. And he sort of sounds kind too, but frustrated…so I always tried to be nice to him, but I still thought him a grumpy old git and he probably saw me as monster woman incarnated. When I called him yesterday he sounded quite happy though. Maybe because he started the conversation by saying “I haven’t heard from you in a long while!” In other words: he had no current reason for wanting to bite my head off. He was rather nice actually as we chatted about me leaving work and going to Cape Town (or Hout Bay to be precise) and he digged this as he turned out to be from Joburg.

So I strolled into their reception this morning and the receptionist told me he’d be right out to help me carry what I was picking up. I was trying to get the Add Lee cab to find its way to the main entrance when this hot young dude walked out and we both looked at one another in disbelief, probably equally shocked that the other didn’t look like a monster. I’m just very happy I didn’t start giggling as I found the situation hysterically funny. Instead I resorted to saying rather idiotic things, whilst contemplating whether my hair was in place and swearing about wearing no make-up, as he was wishing me good luck in Cape Town looking somewhat jealous, probably because of the amount of rain he will have to cope with in London.

My co-worker later apologized for not having warned me about his good looks and I sent an email to my boss reprimanding him for not warning me – after all he thought I should just say yes to clients wanting to date me as it would be good for business. I said no to that, but I would totally have done my best to appease the damn accountant! (There’s no sense of humor at our offices. None at all. And besides I’m officially not working there anymore. But I am.)

I feel like a change…maybe I should become a lesbian???

Sex And The CITIES...

Warning: sexual, potentially funny content.

I mean, it’s like anal sex: whether you’ve done it or not you are screwed. If you have done it you are a slut, if you haven’t you are frigid. On the other hand, if you screw men, you have men trouble, but if you screw women you don’t get to screw men. Like Charlotte said in SATC – my vagina would be depressed. I mean it’s like life is this constant frustration. Unless of course you find Mr Right who gives you no problems and you get laid for the rest of your life by the greatest shag around, that keeps getting better. Naturally I don’t need men to be happy, it’s just so much easier if someone else carries the shopping for me, rubs my shoulders at night and keeps my vagina happy without a rabbit. And of course you could do just the sex, but that’s like saying you want one piece of chocolate, when really you want the whole bar.

And then there’s the question of what city to live in. In LA everything is totally awesome and in London nothing’s too bad, which kind of sums it up right there, apart from the fact that even though LA is awesome London has everything awesome in it. It’s like that bitch that has Mr Perfect inside her, whereas lovely gorgeous next door is shagging a somewhat alcoholic, fame obsessed nobody with too big a car and an even bigger ego.

My choice of cities feels like my choice of dream marriage: on the one hand I’d love to drive to Mexico on a bike, get hitched in really high heels and the sexiest skimpiest dress on the planet, drink tequila all night and have my honeymoon in oblivious bliss to the world, high on chocolate, sex and chili. On the other hand I would love a fairytale wedding in France with a hundred people, or more and a honeymoon which is the deepest spiritual journey on the planet, connecting my soul with my husband’s. I always figured I could get married with the aid of tequila first and then do the proper vow once I’ve grown up enough to handle the pressure and need a bit of a lift in my every day life. I mean weddings tend to perk things up. If nothing else you can argue with your mother in law five times a day.

My choice of ideal wedding is kind of like marrying an Angelino v.s. marrying a Londoner (who’s preferably of exotic breed – you need a house in the sun and some HOT blood if you are to survive that town): with the Angelino you feel sure they will file for a divorce and make you a millionaire, whereas with a Londoner it may actually last forever. I guess it depends on what your priorities are.

Life is confusing. Like you want the bad boy and the romance and the skyscrapers and the open fields all at the same time and bohemia and luxury. Like snow and 80 degrees farenheit.

So time for a change? Well the lesbian thing is outruled by logic: I can’t take prozac for my vagina. Marriage ain’t gonna happen anytime soon, so that’s outruled too. That leaves moving cities. Well, who knows? I don’t. Maybe I should just try a new pair of shoes first? Prada, Prada… Where’s my sugar daddy when I need him??? Or at least a bad boy with a pure heart???

“The universe may not always play fair, but at least it’s got a hell of a sense of humor.” – SATC

Miranda Hobbes: If he goes up your butt, will he respect you more or respect you less? That’s the issue.
Taxi Driver: [to Carrie] No smoking in the cab.
Carrie: Sir, we’re talking up the butt. A cigarette is in order.
Samantha Jones: Front, back, who cares? A hole is a hole.
Miranda Hobbes: Can I quote you?
Samantha Jones: Don’t be so judgmental. You could use a little back door.
Charlotte: I’m not a hole.
Carrie: Honey, we know.

Me = Head Of Blowing Men…

Another classic Dizzy Blonde story. A friend of mine helped me write a sales pitch/introduction letter for the company I’m interning for. I told my boss he was writing it and I would send him his copy and then re-write it and send him mine. Which I did. Only my friend signed the copy he wrote with:

Best Regards,

Maria

Head Of Blowing Men!!!!

Which of course I didn’t realize until I hit send, because who double checks the signature anyway? Right. I hope my boss has a sense of humor.

Porn movies and rattlesnakes in like California…

Disclaimer: this post contains like all the bad language, sex and total blonde generalizations that I’m known for. Just so you know. Did I mention porn? Oh, and you have to have someone read this to you in a West Coast accent, otherwise it doesn’t make sense. I’ll do it if you cast me in your movie. Just call my Manager.

It’s like so totally not like me, you know? ‘Cuz I’m like California all over. I mean we believe in solar power, organic fruits, beach bodies, sexual liberation, Entourage, positive manifestations, meditation and charitable organizations for starving Actors (usually called “bars” and donations come in the form of “tips”). So like, I’m just gonna be so not me you know for once, and be like totally like non-positive about the world, because I think there’s been too much petroleum pumped into the brains of those non-Californians out there. Know what I’m saying? Srsly. So going against The Secret (the modern-day bible of Cali) and the all loving people, I will have to say that the world is a tad mad. I’m not saying I’m not mad. Like I see myself thinking thoughts that aren’t real, but I realize they aren’t real. Just because I’m scared of snakes doesn’t mean that the rattlesnakes will be in the bushes just as I jog by. I still jog as if they were in the bushes though, just to be sure. And I try to not wear too short shorts whilst jogging, as I could have men running behind me then, scaring the snakes. But maybe I could wear the shorts and still be OK, if there aren’t any snakes that day. See what I’m saying? Like I’m reacting to something that isn’t real, but it could be real. Reality is a bit screwed up. But most things can be fixed with a big smile. Fakeness goes a long way in LA. I mean positivity. That’s what it’s called. Positivity. So anyway, here’s my list. I hope you digg it and reddit and facebook, like all your cool friends. Like the ones in the hills and that producer on The Hangover.

• People are still throwing stones at each other because they want to play in each others’ gardens (a.k.a. countries), but aren’t allowed. But hello? Where are the mommies hiding? They should like bake cakes for each other instead. This is so some 1850′s Wild Western complex.
• People walk around feeling happy just ‘cuz they are holding a gun and can shoot the bastard who’s father’s uncle’s brother’s daughter’s niece shot someone they would be related to if they were alive, but it was 200 years ago. I mean we all had to read Romeo And Juliet in high school. Fighting doesn’t solve ANYTHING. It just leads to more people getting killed.
• People think they have power when they have the biggest resources of things that can kill people, which is like a stone age mentality. Didn’t anyone read The Secret? It’s all about the POWER OF THOUGHT. Jeeze people.
• People fight over who has the best product, like Cheerios v.s. Cornflakes. This is like kindergarten stuff. You should go with the healthiest one. Let the best man win. If you are trying to conquer someone who is better than you, you are simply losing anyway. You may sell more, but you are worse. Like not cool at all. Duh.
• People are very into getting a bigger diamond to hang around their neck, whilst people are dying from starvation. No, they’re not your problem unless you gave birth to them, but it’s still twisted somehow, because everyone tells you sharing is caring. You know, all the Stars in Hollywood share their wealth. And they only borrow their diamonds. And when they feel really guilty for being rich they go into rehab.
• It’s really weird because like everyone knows that if you are someone in LA you drive a cool car, you have cool shades and you live in a crib in the hills, like, but all these people are in AA, go to therapists and spend their time stressing about raising more money to make their movies that don’t make any money. It’s like they take the paparazzi so seriously – when they leave they get so sad they throw canned beans at them, because they no longer get on the cover of People Magazine, so they can’t sue them to pay their bills when they win.
• People then think these people are their heroes. So they want to be in rehab too?
• Most people can’t remember the best night of their life. I always thought that was kinda weird.
• Smoking kills, so people really like dying. Not so much in California of course. We are too healthy, like here people do coke to save their lungs.
• All these porn movies that suddenly get released by some angry ex lover…I mean isn’t that soooo yesterday? It was news when Paris Hilton did it, but come on? Can’t all the ex lovers just get over it? Don’t they understand they like so humiliate themselves by showing they care? If you want someone back you just get a new partner and make sure you film that sex instead. Just so they know what they’re missing.
• I like don’t get it. Someone thinks she can manifest the ass she had at 20. http://ht.ly/3aUDz But hello. Like the whole world mis-read The Secret. You have to take inspired action too. Like build a time machine.

We’re like so enlightened here in Cali.

If you think you are a failure, you gotta see this!!!…(and if you haven’t ever failed, you’re a loser!!!!!)

This perfect booty of mine and I have traveled the world together extensively for the past twenty and some years and let me tell you – my booty has had more than one beating (metaphorically speaking, of course, I was always a saint..). Life tends to sometimes….smack your booty. If you’ve ever tried snowboarding I’m sure you know what I mean – it hurts to land on your ass on the icy patches. It doesn’t normally REALLY hurt that much though…just if you expect to look good in front of your friends and the hot dude next to you. Then your ego will hurt. Badly. If you don’t care about how good you are on the other hand – you practice and learn, but you are there to have fun – then falling on your ass is funny. You feel like a three year old kid again tumbling over in the snow. Doesn’t mean you aren’t doing your best, doesn’t mean you aren’t working hard, the difference is you are enjoying yourself. You have a goal and you care to reach it – the better you get at snowboarding the cooler mountains you can go down, but you can have fun wherever you’re at. You gotta live every moment to the full.

At other times…whether you like it or not, it does really hurt falling on your ass because it wasn’t just going down a mountain with a snowboard that you screwed up – you fucked up something you cared a lot more about. It’s natural though – look at a kid that’s learning to walk. Life is nothing more or less; you have to learn before you can do something. Some people are lucky enough to have been taught their lessons by others, but most of us are enrolled in the school of hard knocks. As they say: the only way to learn is to fall on your ass six times and get up seven, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it feels great when you hit all your old bruises the 6th time you fall, even if you are a much wiser and happier person than when you fell the first time, the pain is still the same. Also, it’s fucking hard for your ego to confess to still haven’t fully learnt your lesson, at the same time as you are thankful for having been given a missing piece of the puzzle, so if it isn’t yet the last one (but hallelujah if it is!).

I guess part of growing up is learning to be proud of yourself even when you lose your face. That some people’s opinions don’t matter. Even if you fuck up for real, do something nasty, just face up to it, apologize and move on. And by the end of the day, if you can have fun whilst you are learning, you are further along than 95% of the population. I’m sure that the most treasured moments of your life weren’t when you got an A in something, but rather when you laughed till you cried…whether that was ‘cuz you fell on your ass or had it smacked…ahem…

Find their wonderful videos here: http://failblog.org

 

 

A whip and a dildo and the perfect plan…

Right. Silliness has overtaken the planet. There’s a Twilight dildo and condoms on the scene. Seriously? If you are that into Edward, you may wanna call a shrink, rather than buy a dildo. Condoms? “Hey, darling, I love you…now let’s use some condoms especially inspired by some hot dudes on the silver screen?” It’s like saying “I’ll be shagging you, but thinking about Brad Pitt.” The day someone shows up on my doorstep with “Lara Croft Condoms” is the day he’ll never come back. Guaranteed. I’m unique. Should be treated as such.

A friend was joking about setting up a franchise, taking care of “older female clientele” as a personal trainer. I volunteered to take care of the men. All I would have to do is have them jog in front of me as I’m jogging behind them with a whip. After it becomes successful (and hey, that will happen quickly – men are known to come fast), I won’t even have to jog – I’ll hire a hoard of out-of-work but simply stunning Actresses here in Hollywood. Then I’ll outsource the paperwork to India. All I’ll have to do is make sure I get paid. Perfect Plan. In fact, I have ideas for a whole gym filled with sex-ercising. If you are an investor, hit me up – I’ll give you a happy ending on your investments.

If you have a dog…there’s now Doga available in a location near you (or only in California…given it stinks like Cali…not dog pooh…it’s the waft of the Cali mindset…as we know – I love it…). You thought right – it’s Yoga For Dogs. If you look after your human partner this well, I’m sure s/he will purr…I mean bark.

Whilst on the topic of dogs…there are now also DogScopes available… They are laughter friendly.

As for what really turns me on at the moment: I’m all into getting fall baking going. Although I’d appreciate a hot dude by the stove, for now the idea of pumpkin pies, gingerbread cake (grandma’s recipe…I may share it if you are nice…) and ideas of how to use lemon peel got my creative juices flowing. I blame my grandma for getting me overly excited about house holding tips and believing in kitchen magic. Did I tell you before I left Cali I went on a herbal mission and came home with everything needed to make Cleopatra’s home spa remedies and various other concoctions? We have Horny Goat’s Weed in the house. Enough said.

Image by BottleLeaf via Flickr

Do you have a nice ass?…

Someone complained that my naughtiness wasn’t there in the posts this week – apparently I went a bit too Buddha…so here goes, naughty is back baby.

I don’t know about you, but I think asses are an important part of the human anatomy. My ass = my greatest asset. Well, sort of you know…so I will dedicate today’s post to all the nice asses out there…that aren’t total asses. Those should be avoided with great care as it is easy to get addicted to their ass and forget that they are an ass and it creates such jolly big problems.

I was sitting with my friend today discussing a film we are acting in. In the movie she bumps a guy with her car, just so as to get a date with him. We came to the conclusion that either she must be brave, or have really big boobs…but then again, in LA there are so many big boobs around that they would not be any shield of protection from angry men…it requires more skill than that…

I saw an adorable guy at Whole Foods this week. In fact he was so hot I ran around the corner to tell my friend to hurry up so she wouldn’t miss him. Of course she stood up and looked down to grab her bag at the same time as he passed, whilst I was telling her in Swedish to look up. Then he turned and walked backwards staring at me – either he was Swedish, or I was hot. I vote for me being hot.

Now LA is filled with pretty, doll looking people, it’s just even though they look like models, most don’t catch my attention (as a lecturer said: “Doing a car commercial is a lot like doing a shoot with a model – nothing looks perfect, so you have to CGI everything.” And some models look pretty, but that’s that – the rest of them is in need of CGI.). This guy on the other hand, was hot. It gave me hope. Amongst all the non-existing men in my life, he was a breath of fresh air. So if only for five minutes.

After discussing this incident with some friends, we came to the conclusion that the best place to spot hot dudes is Whole Foods, because there’s always a ton of them there. So now I am shopping with a cart instead of a basket and bumping bums at Whole Foods. I don’t have big boobs and I am not brave enough to bump someone’s car…but their bum?… If they have a nice ass they can take the hit.

The pick up line I will use? How about Ludacris? “You look good in ‘em jeans, I bet you’d look even better with me in between…” Or not.

On set today, there were problems with the mic. Somehow it had gotten disconnected and someone stuck it in the wrong hole. Then unfolded the story about the cutest quarterback in school who had gone on a date with a cheerleader. It never went onto a second date, as he stuck his finger up the wrong hole. As mentioned before, a guy in my class in middle school asked the biology teacher which hole to stick it in. I don’t think the said teacher even knew it was possible to stick it in, in more than one.

My two amigos bumped into Superman himself (Smallville) yesterday. Apparently he was so good-looking they couldn’t stop staring. Took a while till they realized who he was though. When they got back home my friend leaned forward and her pants broke – middle seam in the back (that’s right – between the butt cheeks). I am soooooo sorry glad it didn’t happen in front of Superman – it would, however, have been his perfect opportunity to compliment her nice ass. Meet cute indeed (if you don’t know what a meet cute is – watch The Holiday if nothing else it will show you what a hot Jude Law is). And where was I when this happened? At home. Baking cardamom biscotti. Talk about having the wrong priorities – everyone keeps telling me I’m the perfect girlfriend (because I’m oh so sweet and doting, right), but how can I be when I never bump into cute blokes? Good thing is – it’s our closest shop. I will be shopping there more frequently from now on – between there and Whole Foods there will be a lot of bums to bump…

Dating (& sex)…according to dads and me…

I stole this amazing dating application (to be filled in by nervous teenage boys before taking someone’s daughter out for a date) from The Whatever Factor (one of my fav bloggers). To say that it’s hilarious is an understatement:

APPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO DATE MY DAUGHTER

*Note:  This application will be considered incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by a financial statement, job history, lineage and a current medical report.

1. Name: _____________    Date of Birth: _______________
2. Height: ____________    Weight: __________  IQ:____
3. SSN#:___________  Driver’s License: ____________
4. Boy Scout Rank: ________________
5. Home Address: ________________
6. Do you have a van? _______  A monster truck? ______  A water bed? __  Number of piercings? ____  Tattoos?_______
7. In 50 words or less, what does late mean to you?
8. In 50 words or less, what does the phrase “Don’t Touch My Daughter” mean to you?  Please include an extra 50 words on your understanding of the word “abstinence“.
9. When is the best time to interview your father, mother, and priest?
10. Please answer the following questions.  Be candid.

• If I were shot, the last place I would want to be wounded is in the _____.
• If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my __________.
• A woman’s place is in the ______________.
• The only thing I hope this application doesn’t ask is _____________.
• When I meet a girl, the first thing I notice about her is __________. (If  the answer to this one begins with T or A, discontinue and leave the premises, keeping your head low and running in a serpentine fashion.)
• What do you want to be if you grow up?

I swear that all the information above is true to the best of my knowledge under the penalty of death, dismemberment, Native-American ant torture, crucifixion, electrocution, red-hot pokers and Chinese water torture.

________________________________

Signature (that means sign your name)

Thank you for your interest.  Please allow four to six years for processing.  You will be contacted in writing if you are approved.  Please do not call or write.  If your application is rejected, you will be contacted by a gentleman wearing a white tie and carrying a violin case.

___________________________________________________________________

If a guy passed this test it’s sufficient to say that I would go nowhere near him…

I think he should hand in another application form…:

APPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO DATE ME

1. Name: _____________    Date of Birth: _______________
2. Muscle Mass: __________  IQ:____
3. Cell # To Ur Mom: ____________
4. How Do You Measure Success?: ________________ (if it involves the name of a car, no need to hand in this form, pls delete my cell # and never try to contact me again, unless you make amends by buying me an Audi TT – midnight blue, metallic, convertible – all extra features included.)
5. Home Address: ________________ (best time of day to get a glimpse of you naked through the bedroom window, would be useful too)
6. Do you have sex drive? _______  A king size bed? ______   Richard Branson’s private #?__________  (pls include) Tattoos?_______
7. How many ex:s and what was their main complaint about you?
8. Mac or PC?
9. In 50 words or less, what does love mean to you? Please include an extra 50 words on your understanding of the word “monogamy“.
10. In 50 words or less, what does the phrase “Great sex” mean to you?  Please include an extra 50 words on your understanding of the words “sex“ and “dirty”.
11. In 50 words or less, what does “hero” mean to you?  Please include an extra 50 words on your understanding of the words “honesty“ and “integrity”.
12. If taken to the priest, what would be your confessions (purge)?
13. Marriage is a) to be feared b) something you do every year – pre-nuptial agreement included c) for fools d) another way of saying “I love you” e) something else – pls explain
14. Explain the concept: 1+1=1
15. Do you take “no” for an answer?
16. What is your greatest hunger in life? (If it has anything to do with your stomach – call your local restaurant and leave me alone. Please.)
17. Does your mother still do your laundry/clean your house/cook for you? (If you answer is yes to any of those and you are above the age of 18, no need to apply. If you are under the age of 18, no need to apply either. Have a nice life.)
18. Please answer the following questions.  Be candid.

• I want to date you because ________________________.
• My favorite pick-up line is __________________________. (if it involves thieves and stars, or your friend’s b-day, pls think again)
• A woman’s place is in _______________________.
• My greatest fear is _________________.
• The only thing I hope this application doesn’t ask is ____________.
• The most used # on my (i)phone is ____________.
• I watch __________hours of TV a week.
• When I don’t like someone I am dating I show it by ______________.
• If you could choose between a course in tantra and a trip to the paintball field, which would you pick? ____________.
• When I like someone I am dating I show it by ________________.
• What do you want to be if you grow up? _______________________.
• The one romantic dream I have that I would never confess to is_______________.

I swear that I will NEVER call you doll (I’m alive and I have very little in common with Barbie) and that all the information above is true to the best of my knowledge under the penalty of never having sex with me again.

________________________________

Signature (that means sign your name)

Thank you for your interest.  Please allow the time it takes to call your mother for processing.  You will be contacted by a text message saying “meet me naked in…..” if approved.  Please do not call or write.  If your application is rejected, you will get a text saying “Thank you for your interest, I feel sad to say that you are an absolute dick that I do not feel the same way about you.” If you do not leave me alone after that, you will be contacted by my friend. He’s an ex marine and body guard. He also works for the CIA. Special department.

Love…(the serious take on Love is here)