Getting Personal

Excerpted from the book "A Collection of Personal Ads From
Alternative Newspapers," by Skippy Williams and Zohre Crumpton,
1996, Simon and Schuster:


 Bitter, unsuccessful middle aged loser wallowing in an unending sea
 of inert, drooping loneliness looking for 24 year old needy
 leech-like hanger-on to abuse with dull stories, tired sex and Herb
 Alpert albums.

 Me-trying to sleep on the bus station bench, pleading with you to
 give me a cigarette;  you-choking on my odor, tripping over your
 purse trying to get away; at the last moment, our eyes meeting.
 Yours were blue. Can I have a dollar?

 Imp and angel. Disembodied head in jar, 24, seeks pixie goddess to
 fiddle with while Rome burns.  You bring marshmallows.  No.
 I make joke.  You like laugh?  I like comebacks and confessions.
 Send photo of someone else.

 I am spitting kitty. Ftt Fttttttt.  I am angry bear. Grrrrr.  I am
 large watermelon seed stuck in your nose. Zermmmmmmmmmm.
 I am small biting spider in your underwear.  Yub yub yub.  No mimes.

 Three toed mango peeler searching for wicked lesbian infielder.
 like screaming and marking territory with urine?  Let's make banana
 enchiladas together in my bathtub.  You bring the salsa.

 Mongoloid spastic underwear model with extra limb (you guess where?)
 in search of bottlenosed dolphin and extra prickly cactus juice.

 Soup is good food.
 I like eating mayonnaise and peanut butter sandwiches in the rain,
 watching Barney Miller reruns, peeing on birds in the park and
 licking strangers on the subway; you eat beets raw, have climbed
 Kilimanjaro, and sweat freely and often.
 Must wear size five shoes.

 Timber!  Falling downward is the lumber of my love.  You grind your
 axe of passion into my endangered headlands.  Don't make me into a
 bureau.  I want to be lots and lots of  toothpicks.

 Small lumpy squid monkey seeks healthy woman with no identifying
 scars, any age.  Must have all limbs. Recommend appreciation of
 high-pitched, screeching noises.  Must like being bored and lonely.
 Must not touch the squids, EVER.

 There is a little place in the jumbled sock drawer of my heart where
 you match up all the pairs, throw out the ones with holes in them,
 and buy me some of those neat dressy ones with the weird black and
 red geometrical designs on them.

 Mmmm Pez!  Rabid Wonder Woman fan looking for someone in satin
 tights, fighting for our rights and the old red, white 'n blue.  You
 look like Linda Carter?  Big plus.  Know all words to theme song?
 Marry me.

 Sanctimonious mordacious raconteur seeking same for hijinks and
 hiballs.  SJM 27 wants to look someone in the eye so don't be tall.
 Or, if you can't help it, enjoy laying down.  Wanna swim upstream?

 Remember that summer you spent with your parents in Hawaii and how
 mad you were that they made you go?  And how you were hopelessly
 bored until you saw the most gorgeous man you'd ever encountered
 strolling down the beach looking at you, skillfully removing your
 skimpy bikini with his piercing eyes?  And how you spent the last
 month imagining him taking you in every possible way, masturbating
 feverishly day and night, wishing he would reappear, but he never
 did because you were 15 and he would have gone to jail?  That was
 me, and you just turned 18.


 Angry, simple-minded, balding, partially blind ex-circus flipper boy
 with a passion for covering lovers in sour cream and gravy seeks
 exotic, heavily tattooed piercing fanatic, preferably hairy, either
 sex, for whippings, bizarre sex and fashion consulting.  No freaks.