Alf Hucker

If you've been fortunate enough to not have had the misery of reading Craigslist personal ads, you're one of the lucky few.

Is it just me, or do the absolute lowest forms of humanity post on CL?

Well, I'm sick of all the bullshit, so here's MY version of a great craigslist post...

Look, ladies, let?s face facts here; I?m not going to date, bang, message you on yahoo, or respond to your emails.

I?ve had the unfortunate displeasure of thumbing through ads on CL a couple times in the past, and while on one occasion happened to find someone who was modestly bang-able, the vast majority of you are overweight, and have extreme social disorders that include (but certainly aren?t limited to) father issues, fear of commitment, adult attention deficit disorder, paranoid personality disorder, pathological lying, and possibly a severe infestation of Norwegian crab lice.

That being said, again, I won?t bang you.

But barring the possibility that you don?t possess any of the above traits, I?d be happy to oblige you with a brief description of myself, just for giggles.

First off, I am completely misogynistic. I?ll make references to why women and cars/politics/Chuck Norris don?t mix. Unless you?re completely comfortable spending the duration of the day practicing the fine art of cooking me hot wings while I watch football/play X-Box/drink heavily, and then topping it off by practicing oral fellatio on my meat rod just before you tune up my car, chances are swell that we won?t work.

Next, take special note of the fact that when it comes to women, my attention span is about as long as William Shatner?s career in music. I don?t care about your hair. I won?t notice your new dye/style/shave job, and honestly don?t want you stinking up my house with the funk of your fourteen thousand different hair care products. Unless the topic of conversation revolves around what you?re planning on cooking, or what methods you plan to use to make me ejaculate, I?ll listen about as attentively as Terry Schaivo.

Thirdly, don?t expect any gifts. I?ve managed to secure employment that allows me an exuberant amount of income and when it comes to buying myself nice things, I have never had a problem and don?t expect you to buy me shit. Using that same rationale, if you are unfortunate enough to not maintain the same degree of employ and can?t purchase your own things, don?t expect me to do it. About the only gift I?ll ever supply you with is the gift of my man chowder on your face/chest/sister. If that?s not good enough for you, I suggest you move along.

Speaking of your sister; If she?s hot, I WILL try ?and probably succeed- to infiltrate her vag. This, additionally, applies to your stepsister, sister-in-law, friends, mother, aunt, and in extreme cases of intoxication, grandmother. I?m a firm believer in polygamy, and my lifestyle dictates that I frequently fornicate with as many hot members of the opposite sex as humanly possible. On the flip side, I?m fully comfortable with you banging other guys, as well, barring that they pay their dues and restock the fridge with any alcohol they consume, don?t use my T-shirts to clean up, and don?t fuck with the settings on my stereo.

I?ll, inevitably, in an alcoholic stupor and nightly partying, do something monumentally stupid that will involve the posting of some sort of bond/bail to release me from whatever outback, Nazi, jail that I?m being held in. I?ll fully expect you to not only post that bond/bail, but use your own money to do it. The way that I see it, I provide you with a release from your issues via gracing you with the opportunity to frequently slobber on my fallace, and that?s more than worthy of you getting me out of the drunk tank in County.

I?m better than you, period. If you can come to grips with that, we?ll be a match made in heaven! But just in case you?re wondering, here are some reasons why I?m better than you (in bullet form, for your convenience).

1. Unless you?re the CEO of some major corporation (lolz! Like they let women do that!) I have a better job than you.

2. I have a nicer car than you. I don?t have some rapper?s Bentley, but I have one sweet ride with lots of leather and walnut, and is faster than a cheetah on Jefferson County meth. You drive a fucking Cavalier that you still owe on.

3. My house is better than yours. Again, I?m not Nelly, but I have a bigass house that is filled with the finest furnishings, art (not those fake ass prints that YOU buy at Wal-Mart), a pool, hot tub, and a wine cellar that has bottles that cost more than your baby daddy owes you in back support.

4. I?m thinner than you. You?re cruising CL for a date, so there?s about a 1 in 2 chance that you?re a land mammoth. I?m sorry that after the birth of your third kid, you ballooned past the 250 pound mark. Maybe you should stop siphoning down foods that are caked in artery-hardening substances, and shoveling Pop-Tarts into your cock holster in loads that would sufficiently nourish an entire starving African village.

5. I don?t have issues. None. Zip. Nada. Zilch. I?m completely sane, totally self-reliant, don?t blame my problems on others in my past (ie; father, mother, step dad, molesting doctor or Lisa). I?m not in therapy, have never been, and don?t see any visits in the future. None of my problems rank any higher than anything that can?t be solved with a bottle of bourbon.

6. I?m a ninja. That?s right. I possess the mad skills of the Shinobi which have rendered me a master of the arts of espionage, assassination, and guerilla warfare. I can successfully carry out missions which will inevitably put me in situations of extreme physical, mental, and emotional stress and be home in time to play Madden and drink beers while you satisfy my desire to have my meat tube battered with saliva. This reason that I?m better than you, coincidentally, leads to the next;

7. I can kick your ass. I mean, you?re a fat chick in Lane Bryant stretch pants who works as a receptionist at an insurance agency. I?m a ninja. There?s no debate. I?ll totally own your face in battle. Unless you, too, are a ninja (again, lolz @ chicks being ninjas), I can totally beat you down. In the rare event that you have fooled the master Shinobi into thinking you?re a dude and have achieved fellow ninja status, you?ll first have to thwart my attack dog, Snarl, who is a mixed breed of pit bull, rot, coyote, hyena, and werewolf. Even if you somehow manage that, I?ll still kick your ass.

8. I?m smarter than you. I have multiple degrees in subjects that require more than a pulse and a number two pencil to achieve. I was valedictorian, won the Nobel Prize for Physics, invented time travel/fire/the wheel, and cured the common cold. You go to community college, part time, at night, in the hopes that in six years you?ll have an associate?s degree in nursing.

There are thousands of reasons that I can list as to why I?m better than you, but those are the essential elements, and all I feel like writing at the moment.

So there you are, ladies. If you?re interested in chatting more, drop me a line that I?ll completely disregard because you?re fat and completely unworthy of my time. Your pic gets my lol.

Warmest Regards,
Alf Hucker

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