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"Are you looking for a good time?
I'm an 18 year old male from West Auckland, lonely and frustrated, looking for a long term relationship with a mindlessly obedient drone of a woman with no self esteem, who is willing to cater to my every psychotic whim and cook my meals in the nude. Virgins are preferable so as to avoid women with delusions of there being a "better man" out there than me.
If interested please order a second-hand cheese sandwich from Ebay while singing the Bolivian National Anthem. It will prove your unwavering loyalty to me"
The above is from my NEWLY CREATED page on NZ Dating.
I also sent it as a message to the stripper bitch who keeps adding me on Skype.
DISCLAIMER:
This rant has nothing to do with Michael Jackson. I named it after him as a tribute, but the media have pretty much said everything there is to say on the subject, so I shall say no more..
Moving along.
So a few weeks or months ago, I downloaded Skype. Hang on, need to take a toilet break. I don't know why I'm telling you that, I could just stop writing and you'd never know, but meh.
There we go, much better.
So anyway, I got Skype and it was really cool. You know, I could chat to all my mates in Europe and England and America (because MSN is only for third world countries like New Zealand).....
Well, okay, anyone with a webcam really....
... Well, just Grimm, but only because no one else bothers signing in.
BUT WAIT!
For you see, I do get people sign in and add me. Total random strangers.
It began with an extremely awkward video call from this girl in Morocco, and a weird conversation trying to explain that I don't speak French.
That's fine, she probably had me confused with someone else.
After all "Alexx _______" is an EXTREMELY common name and one in three Moroccans is probably called that.
But then came the weirdoes.
At first I thought someone might have been sharing my Skype info on those dirty chatlines - hell it could have been me without knowing, but soon they swarmed in.
Really, like one a day. Every day. For two weeks. Different ones. And they seem to watch me and know I'm online when I'm set to "Invisible" and I want my mummy.
But god they piss me off, with random messages like "Hey Sexy, wanna see me get undressed?"
What, are you that stupid that you feel so proud every time you do it that you HAVE to prove to people that you can? Have you spent the last 21 years with your mother dressing and undressing you and at last you know how and want to show the world?
Or those "Hey I'm dying for a fuck, wanna hook up?"
No. Fuck, the very fact that you have to stalk people on Skype and ask them if they want to bang you speaks volumes about how good you are (or aren't).
I mean, if you were actually decent looking you'd have a fucking boyfriend who might want to thrust you regularly.
And you're FREE! You're not even worth $60 and obviously got kicked off K Rd for turning all the other prostitutes' customers gay when they saw you.
You're "dying for a fuck." Why are you dying for a fuck?
I'll tell you why, it's because you're a hideous little pig who's wider than she is tall and has to download fake display pictures off the internet so as not to break the computer screen with her real image. Hence why no one wants to sleep with you. Go be a nun.
Anyway, I've saved these bitches and have taken to sending them my own "Highly Feminist" messages.
The other thing that's annoying is slow people. I keep getting stuck behind these fat arses who are wedged on the escalators and missing my train every time I'm at Britomart.
Do some sit ups, take the goddamn stairs and leave the escalators for thin people.
And for fucks sake stop standing at the bottom, blocking the way while you bitch about how you "Can't believe Darren won't sleep with me, I'm way hotter than Kylie!"
If that's true then Kylie must be so ugly she causes entire galaxies to implode at the sight of her.
And, oh horrors, I'm on the train home to Henderson, with this middle aged woman bitching next to me on her cellphone.
Firstly, the whole carriage, which contained around 100 or more people, does not need to hear about how Janet from work's breath smells like Avocado Sandwiches.
We don't care about your personal life.
If you want to publicly display your life to an uncaring audience, go get Facebook, add 600 contacts and update your status every two seconds.
You know.
Like me.
Oh, and I definitely do NOT need to hear how:
a)"Men are dogs."
No.
Men are Men and Dogs are Dogs.
Men go "Yeah, beer, rugby, women, etc"
Dogs go "Woof woof."
Notice a difference?
Stupid fucking woman, never should have left the kitchen.
b)I DEFINITELY did not need to hear how your husband has "been very good and deserves a treat between the sheets tonight."
I sincerely hope that this treat is you suffocating yourself with them. Or even the reward of having you NOT sleep with him.
Poor bastard.
He's probably flat as a pancake after you've laid on him once, OR he's still got his head stuck up your enormous vagina.
Another treat between the sheets would be for you to cover yourself with them and go sleep in another room for the night. That way we don't have to look at you. Of course, we know that won't work because you need a king sized bed spread to use as a dress anyway.
Look, you are too fat, and too old, and the only reason that you get any sex at all is because your husband is probably scared that you'll crush him and eat him if you don't comply.
Thanks for reading, you're a wonderful audience.
If you enjoyed this rant, please become my fan. Search for "Alexxx."
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