I don’t want to sound like an insensitive prick, but women really start looking their age after about the 26 mark. I noticed this while snooping through the Match.com website. It’s no wonder men hit on women half their age. Women age worse than men, the poor little things. A dude can get away with looking a bit rugged, but when chicks start looking like Gargamel - that’s a wrap. I can’t imagine what it’s like for a woman to watch herself age in the mirror. Have you ever seen the movie Death Becomes Her with Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn, those classic bitches? If not, I highly recommend it because the story centers around how crazy women are about their looks - plus Bruce Willis plays an alcoholic mortician.
In the year 1992 this film cost 55 million dollars to make and raked in over a 140 million at the box office. It always blows my mind how much money it takes to make a movie. Can you imagine writing something and then people spending that much currency to bring it to life? That must be like the biggest compliment in the world. Granted no one gives a damn who wrote the film and the director is the one who gets all the creative credit, but still, the writer gets to see his story lit up on the big screen. Then he has to watch while all the beautiful women throw themselves at the actors and director while being shoved to the side so Meryl Streep can pass by.
She doesn’t even remember your ass.
I’d totally bone Goldie Hawn. I like the idea of sleeping with a woman who was born in the 1940s. She’s seen some shit. Plus you can pound away all night long because it’s going to take more than Hitler’s army to make this sweet peach feel anything. She’s on so many quaaludes, bars of Xanax, countless scotch on the rocks and possibly four or five bong hits. The second your dick hits the hole - it’s an instant contact high.
I hope you don’t have any heart problems.
My fantasy is to one day write a movie script Marisa Tomei would be interested in bringing to life. I’ve been in love with her since I was fourteen years old. I’ll watch any piece of shit film she’s in with my favorite being Untamed Heart. She’s so unbelievably tantalizing in this movie it’s hard not to watch and fall down to my knees gripping my balls. At that time in her life she was everything I believed to be enthralling in a female.
Ugh, Good God. I can see her as clear as day as I write this.
At one point in the story she wakes up to find a Christmas tree in her bedroom. She leaps out of bed wearing nothing more than a sleep shirt, sleep panties and sleep socks on her feet. She’s all happy & shit and I can only watch with a dropped jaw and ponder what it might be like to have those butt cheek residue sheets balled up in a baseball and shoved in my mouth. If I choke and die - it’s perfectly fine.
Do not resuscitate.
Her role is that of a young woman working as a waitress who is unlucky in love.
Her name is Caroline.
Do you like music Caroline?
Her new love interest sneaks into her bedroom while she’s asleep and sets up this twinkling Christmas tree at the foot of her bed. It’s even snowing outside. This dude was a bad mother fucker. He even had a hole in his heart, but it wasn’t like Caroline’s. His was real and he soon died after falling in love with her. I’ve watched this film a dozen times over the years and always wonder the same thing:
“How long do you think until she’s willing to give it up to another dude?”
I mean, this guy even saved her from being raped and got stabbed in the process. He would ask if she liked music and play records for her. Never once did he try dipping his fingers in her warm wet panties too soon and really besides believing he had a baboon’s heart - this dude was gold.
It would be hard to top this guy after he died, but my imagination was willing to give it a go. I could walk down to the pawn shop and buy myself a record player. I could borrow my mother’s Steve Miller Band records.
Do you like music Caroline?
Because I really love your peaches and want to shake your tree. I could be the next guy who isn’t quite as good as the first, but I’ll do for now. I’ll settle for cotton baseball souvenirs. The point is I’m watching one of her more recent films, she’s now nearing fifty years old and still appears just as alluring as ever through my view. Even with her aging eyes and the wrinkling corners of her lips - I find her completely irresistible.
That counts for something.
This is the kind of woman a man is supposed to marry. Not some puta with three kids from three different dudes she met on the Internet. I’m only into day one of this Match.com shit and already about to blow my fucking brains out. I can’t handle these women contacting me with high hopes, yet I have absolutely beyond zero interested in communicating with them. You know, like the busted up girls. I’m not good with people down on their luck for their entire existence. It makes me sad knowing they want nothing more than true love, the whole meaning of life, but the odds are stacked up against them. I mean, is this my calling? Am I supposed to go out and sleep with all these horribly unattractive women and make them feel warm? If only for one night? This shit is breaking my heart because I have to respond. I can’t just ignore them. Maybe I am that super hero? I mean, I’m probably not that attractive myself at this point and God didn’t bless me with a camel’s cock, but I am capable of making a woman smile. I’ve done it, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Maybe I’m this perverted dude with a huge heart and meant to be some kind of bottom feeding gigolo? Like these women who look like they were made by a baby using Play-Doh and it’s my job to have sex with them as if I believed they were Marisa Tomei.
Those skid mark sheets are going in my mouth.
Oh well, at least when the light is quietly hushed from my eyes - I’ll go straight to heaven where I’ll be the only one allowed to drink booze, smoke cigarettes and read Charles Bukowski poems to the masses. If Jesus gives me any shit I’ll simply say, “Bitch, you saw what I was doing down there!”
Fuck you.
I’ve earned it (he knows I don’t meant it when I talk to him like that.) It’s just my style.
