Athens, GA: Missed Connections, 9/5/2013 4:22 PM EDT
Posted by: Unknown/Anonymous
I seen you at the Sprockets film night thing and the other movie thing. You are the smaller than me girl with dark curly hair and glasses and a smile that shines like crystal diamonds. We saw eachother at the film thing networking event.
My eyes were like sex radar for you that night. I know you felt it too, in your downtown place. We kept making eye contact, but you were always lookin at someone else.
My arousal for you was sexual. we were supposed to be networking for films. but I just wanted to film you. with my body.
your hair is so curly like a sultry nest of snakes. i will call you sex madusa, cause you turned me to stone in my penis. i want to be one of those curls of your hair so that I might fall against your face. With your glasses you look like a librarian. from like a sex library.
i will ride a white horse on a magic carpet to take you to the finest restaurants. i will feed you sushi made from the finest eel, nature's sex meat, by putting it in your mouth with my hands, sexually. I will arouse your brain by laying you down on a velvet waterbed and watch sophisticated television dramas like those of American producer, John Turtletaub, and then asking you what you think about it.
I will then do complicated sex things all on you all night.
You are my sexual destiny. you have the shine of love up on you and i want to bath in it. We should meet up. I get a discount at Cracker Barrel.
Saturday, September 07, 2013
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
Those Infernally Hard to Get Green Cards - m4w
Athens, GA, Third Rock From The Sun: Missed Connections, 8/26/2013, 7:54 PM EDT
Posted by: THB (Unknown/Anonymous)
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.
The two of us together remind me so much of that old book title--as great as we are together, there is just always so much. . . strife and opposite inclinations between us, so much petty bickering, and over some of the seemingly most innocuous things most of the time, i.e., Picasso and Duchamp or Benton and Wood? Gertrude Stein (I knew she was one of you) or Ernest Hemingway? Do we laser the guests so that you can eat them, or let them go because they are our friends? Do they even give green cards to non-planetary aliens to justify your insistence upon marriage...? And the rest of all that heady stuff, too--admittedly, the list seems endless.
And, yet, all that said, I love you, and from the first time I laid eyes on you (unless it was all some hypnotic spell you cast upon me, which I cannot completely rule out). And I remember that night like it was yesterday, too, the bright lights hovering over the wheat fields, the eerie blue glow and strange sounds of your flying saucer, as it hovered above me, descended, and finally touched down. Perhaps, I should have run, but I wanted to see the thing through, to see if the doll driving that sleek silver machine was as hot as its thrusters were, if you know what I mean.
And you were! Oh, how much you were, when you popped open the escape door and out slung those two beautiful, preternaturally pasty white legs of yours, legs that were just so perfect, and toned, and that went on for days (to say nothing of how they glowed in the dark). Legs that rose into that scrawny little white, pasty, Pilates body of yours and into that gargantuan, conical head that makes you such a braniac, that gargantuan head with two of the most beautiful avocado sized black eyes that I have ever seen. And, awww, only four feet tall--had your head been flat, you'd have been perfect.You were amazing, right down to those nine inch long, bulbous fingers of yours--and don't even get me started on how they glowed when I know I'd turned you on.
But was it all just physical attraction, even after you did that thing where you read my mind??? I mean, I thought we had connected, and for the first time in my life.
You were my girl (at least, I think you were--the rest of your crew, male and female alike, all looked the same, so it's hard to say), and I miss you. Now that you're gone, I don't know how I will live without you, and I knew it the minute I woke up this morning with something akin to a killer hangover going on--though I don't drink--and saw my shaved head and that lobotomy scar in the mirror, and felt the pangs in my butt that had apparently chunked up a small deciduous tree during the night (Did you take me to your spaceship while I was asleep, again??? If so, what the devil kind of date-rape drug did you put into my drink, anyway?!? Yes. Definitely. More please!) that I want you back (or, at least, my LIVER, you idiot, as the human body can't live without it--I mean, if you need mementos, why can't you at least be THAT normal, and take a sweater, or a bottle of my favorite cologne. . . or the CAT, even, for the love of God, geesh!!!).
I know that I was not perfect, either, nor from Mars. And I know that I don't glow in the dark, like you do (outside of the experiments you ran on me, anyway), but I can do better, and if you are still within this galaxy, perhaps, still hovering with your head still stuck up Uranus--you have that much in common with most earth girls, anyway--thinking, perhaps, maybe we were BOTH wrong, at the very least, then come home, baby, please come home: Though you weren't born here, home is where the heart is, and I think you left yours on the carpet in your hurry to leave this morning, which means you're still mine (though, admittedly, it looks more like a giant turd, barring the throbbing it keeps doing--and, hey, wait, that's not mine, is it??? Oh, God, what have you done to me, my little alien incubus???). It doesn't matter, just so long as we're together, here, there, with my head in formaldehyde like those other talking heads in your lab... just come home.
Love,
THB
P.S. The men from the army base in the funny contamination suits that are here have validated my claim: They don't issue green cards to species from other solar systems, though they would like to discuss it with you in person. They assure me that, if you just come back, they will help us make a life together... SOMEWHERE, my alien mamacita, you!
Posted by: THB (Unknown/Anonymous)
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.
The two of us together remind me so much of that old book title--as great as we are together, there is just always so much. . . strife and opposite inclinations between us, so much petty bickering, and over some of the seemingly most innocuous things most of the time, i.e., Picasso and Duchamp or Benton and Wood? Gertrude Stein (I knew she was one of you) or Ernest Hemingway? Do we laser the guests so that you can eat them, or let them go because they are our friends? Do they even give green cards to non-planetary aliens to justify your insistence upon marriage...? And the rest of all that heady stuff, too--admittedly, the list seems endless.
And, yet, all that said, I love you, and from the first time I laid eyes on you (unless it was all some hypnotic spell you cast upon me, which I cannot completely rule out). And I remember that night like it was yesterday, too, the bright lights hovering over the wheat fields, the eerie blue glow and strange sounds of your flying saucer, as it hovered above me, descended, and finally touched down. Perhaps, I should have run, but I wanted to see the thing through, to see if the doll driving that sleek silver machine was as hot as its thrusters were, if you know what I mean.
And you were! Oh, how much you were, when you popped open the escape door and out slung those two beautiful, preternaturally pasty white legs of yours, legs that were just so perfect, and toned, and that went on for days (to say nothing of how they glowed in the dark). Legs that rose into that scrawny little white, pasty, Pilates body of yours and into that gargantuan, conical head that makes you such a braniac, that gargantuan head with two of the most beautiful avocado sized black eyes that I have ever seen. And, awww, only four feet tall--had your head been flat, you'd have been perfect.You were amazing, right down to those nine inch long, bulbous fingers of yours--and don't even get me started on how they glowed when I know I'd turned you on.
But was it all just physical attraction, even after you did that thing where you read my mind??? I mean, I thought we had connected, and for the first time in my life.
You were my girl (at least, I think you were--the rest of your crew, male and female alike, all looked the same, so it's hard to say), and I miss you. Now that you're gone, I don't know how I will live without you, and I knew it the minute I woke up this morning with something akin to a killer hangover going on--though I don't drink--and saw my shaved head and that lobotomy scar in the mirror, and felt the pangs in my butt that had apparently chunked up a small deciduous tree during the night (Did you take me to your spaceship while I was asleep, again??? If so, what the devil kind of date-rape drug did you put into my drink, anyway?!? Yes. Definitely. More please!) that I want you back (or, at least, my LIVER, you idiot, as the human body can't live without it--I mean, if you need mementos, why can't you at least be THAT normal, and take a sweater, or a bottle of my favorite cologne. . . or the CAT, even, for the love of God, geesh!!!).
I know that I was not perfect, either, nor from Mars. And I know that I don't glow in the dark, like you do (outside of the experiments you ran on me, anyway), but I can do better, and if you are still within this galaxy, perhaps, still hovering with your head still stuck up Uranus--you have that much in common with most earth girls, anyway--thinking, perhaps, maybe we were BOTH wrong, at the very least, then come home, baby, please come home: Though you weren't born here, home is where the heart is, and I think you left yours on the carpet in your hurry to leave this morning, which means you're still mine (though, admittedly, it looks more like a giant turd, barring the throbbing it keeps doing--and, hey, wait, that's not mine, is it??? Oh, God, what have you done to me, my little alien incubus???). It doesn't matter, just so long as we're together, here, there, with my head in formaldehyde like those other talking heads in your lab... just come home.
Love,
THB
P.S. The men from the army base in the funny contamination suits that are here have validated my claim: They don't issue green cards to species from other solar systems, though they would like to discuss it with you in person. They assure me that, if you just come back, they will help us make a life together... SOMEWHERE, my alien mamacita, you!
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