Category Archives: Classifieds

Backyard Wrestling. My House.

Posted on by

0

images (2)This message goes out to all you punk-ass peckerwoods that think y’all bad: Lenny, Big Bob, Clarence, Floyd, Clyde, Cliff, Logan, Vince, P.J., Regular Donny, Donny Half-Dick, Peanut Head, Roast Beef Sammy, Bull Moose, and most of all, that big baby-bitch Earl. Earl, I’m calling you out. I’m gonna go Mary Ann and Wanda all over your ass.

This Saturday. Backyard Wrestling. My house.

I’ve got a couple sheets of plywood and I’m gonna drag my mattress and my lil sister’s mattress and my mee-mee’s mattress out in the yard and I’m gonna take all the cushions off the sofa and we’re gonna rumble like fuck. Then I’m gonna do a frog-splash off the roof of the trailer right onto Floyd’s stupid brown dick. You heard me Floyd, you snaggle-toothed dildo. I’m gonna tear that fat ass open so wide, it’s going to be a veritable Butthole Bonanza.

$T2eC16dHJGoE9nuQg2,6BQZmSNqQKQ~~60_35The only rule is: no fucking holds barred. I’m gonna have cookie sheets and curtain rods hid throughout the backyard to be used as you see fit. I plan on using the cookie sheets to beat Cliff’s fat klepto ass into submission and get him to finally admit that he still has my copy of 007 Goldeneye for N64. And my Shark Pack.

Also, another rule is you gotta come in costume and stay in character. For instance, my wrestling alter ego is named “The Arabian Knight.” I’m going to ride in on a blood thirsty camel, who’s going to be chomping at the bit to tear Logan’s throat right the fuck out of his neck. There’s gonna be more blood gushing out of Logan’s throat than when Floyd’s Ma is on her period.images (3) And we all know she’s got more flow than LL Cool J. Anyway, after my camel assaults the Logster, I’m going to do one of those Islamic ear piercing screams. Then I’m going to lay down my prayer rug, pray towards Mecca, recite the Fatihah, snack on some Halal lamb, some dried figs, maybe a little goat cheese and stuffed grape leaves, get upset about somebody drawing a cartoon of the prophet Mohammed, then I’m going to do a backflip and wage a fucking jihad down on everybody’s stink-taints. After I clobber the ever loving shit out of each and every one of your dicks, I’m going to explain to all you racist fuckers how not all Muslims are terrorists and how Islam is really a religion of peace.

93533490_o4hWN-M-1Another rule is NO COMING AS LORD OF THE RINGS or STAR WARS CHARACTERS. I’m specifically talking to you Clarence, you fucking nerd-rope. This is fucking backyard wrestling not some pussy-ass Dragon Con LARPing freak show. We’re going to be hitting each other with fucking baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire. We’re going to be setting cinder blocks on fire and smashing them on each other’s face. It’s going to be raw as fuck and every time Clarence tries to cast a spell on one of us or use his Jedi mind tricks it makes us all look unprofessional. Clarence, swear to Allah, one fucking spell or incantation and you will be asked to leave. I’m not even joking right now.

Also, my cousin Daryl’s band “Hatchet Gash” is gonna come rock our asses inside out while we pummel each other like fucking brutes. They are an ICP cover band but they also have some tight-ass originals based off the plot of the 1987 Newbery Award winning novel Hatchet by Gary Paulsen. backyardThey’re really trying to stick with the Hatchet motif which is raw as shit.

Occasionally, since Daryl’s wife ran off with Fat Sam the owner of the Dairy Queen, the “Gash” will cover Band of Horses’ “No One’s Gonna Love You More Than I Do” and shit gets real depressing. Daryl will scream “FUCK YOU, SHARON!” and start crying and shooting up heroin on stage. It’s pretty fucking dope.

While we choke the fuck out of each other with garden hoses and shit and Daryl and the boys are rockin’ tits, Mom will be inside making some deviled eggs and Peanut Billies & J’s. All I have to drink at the house is Citrus Cooler Gatorade and Dr. Thunder, so if your picky little pencil scrotum wants something else, pick it up at the QuikShop before you show up. And guys…don’t be a fucking jizz-toilet. When you’re done, wash you’re dishes off and put them in the sink. My mom is not you’re fucking maid, Lenny, you cleft-lipped faggot!

My Friend Steve is a Real Cool Guy

Posted on by

0

My friend, Steve, is super down to earth. He has a rhinosaurus heart. Metaphorically. Like his heart is the size of a rhino’s. Not literally. It’s an expression that means like, he’s real sweet and kind and his shirts always match his eyeballs, which are the color of the deepest ocean, if the deepest ocean were dyed cedar brown. Literally, his heart probably weighs about seven pounds – same size as Will Smith’s. Plus, he’s gotta dick that could eat up a gator. No joke. Seriously. Especially if the gator wasn’t full grown. Like a little 3 footer? His dick could easily gobble that up. There’s no doubt about that. Steve is the kinda guy who you want to bring home to your Mom (if she wasn’t such a old flappy cunt who can’t live in the now and realize that it’s fucking 2011 and that the gays are the new blacks and are takin’ OVA!!! We’re turning the Blackhouse, previously known as the Whitehouse, into the Fuchsiahouse when we elect our first Queen in 2016). Steve’s the type of guy that will bring you flowers, and not just because your pet turtle, Cecil, just died of breast cancer. It’s like, I haven’t heard from you in 6 months and all the sudden Cecil kicks it and you wanna come over with flowers and act all buddy buddy with me? Go fly a motherfucking kite, asshole. Sorry. My “so-called” life, right guyz? Anyway. Steve pushes me in all aspects of my life. He pushes me to be a more caring, thoughtful person. He pushes me to try new things. He pushes me in the shopping cart when we go to Wally World to pick up anal nitrate before pushing in my butthole Snickers. Whole lot of anal pushing with Steve, that’s for sure. See, I’m a power bottom but I really like getting with someone who can get in there and split me in two like Robin Hood’s arrow. Steve really is the best. I’m not fucking with you. He’s numero uno in my book. That’s Spanish. Steve also taught me Espanol because he thought it would be nice if we were bisexual and could speak two languages. Plus, it gets me harder than a Sudoku puzzle when he whispers sweet Latin nothings in my ear-vag.

So here’s the deal. Here is why I’m telling you all this. Steve and I dated on and off through middle school but our relationship was so fucked that we knew we had to call it off or one of us would end up gutting the other one like a swordfish and leaving the body for the coyotes to pick at. I mean, we are still greeeat friends. And like I said, he’s the greatest guy, WE just couldn’t make it work. I’m with Sharon now, and I’m happy as a clam. I still get to be the power bottom. But the thing is, we all like to go out to the Giraffe’s Clit (the hottest new leather club) together and Steve is really shy and has a hard time meeting people, so it ends up just being the three of us, and Sharon and I feel bad leaving him alone in the theatre while we go play hide the nutsack in the ladies’ room. I think you see where I’m going with this. We want to set Steve up with someone, so that when Sharon and I excuse ourselves from the table during dinner and go to the car to blow lines of ecstasy up each other’s asses with a straw, he will have someone to talk to. So, if this sounds like something you’d be into or if Steve sounds like the type of fly cat that you’d like to put inside you, then give us a holler and let’s all go out!

Can’t wait to meet you!

P. Dickenson

Filthy, Down to Earth Leo Looking For Butler

Posted on by

1

Hey! 23 year old high school grad here with Dad’s credit card, a big heart and some free time! Was hoping to meet cute, intelligent, sexy, smart, beautiful, intellectual guy or girl who is in a serious relationship. Job requires a mode of transportation and at least 7.5 inches, whether that be male or female genitalia.

Job would require no less than:

  • Making me three squares a day, cuz I get hungry when I get cranky.
  • Letting me put shaving cream in your hand while your sleeping and tickling your nose with a feather, so you end up with shaving cream all over your stupid butler face.
  • Listening to me scream cry during the night terrors (but don’t try to wake me or I will scratch your skin off).
  • Telling my parents I’m gay.
  • Telling my girlfriend I’m gay.
  • Telling my girlfriend’s Dad that I think he is foine.
  • Drag racing me around the yard on stilts.
  • Brushing my hair before nightterror-time.
  • Telling me I look good in these jeans.
  • Wiping the blood from my nose after an “accidental” overdose on cocaine.
  • Playing “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes (I love those lesbians) while I do binky.
  • Having a wrestling alter ego (This includes having badass name, signature move, and wearing a spandex costume under your tuxedo AT ALL TIMES. Moves must look believable).
  • Owning a gun and be willing to kill for me without question.
  • Being willing to take a bullet for me (Like, even if I’m tootin’ that  blowca cola and decide I need to shoot something and you’re the only one around, that still counts).

Benefits Include:

  • Second hand sluts
  • Chillin’ poolside
  • Drag racing me around the yard on stilts
  • Watching Animal Planet with me and my bros
  • Shooting people
  • Free prostate exam every 3 weeks

If this sounds like the position you’ve been waiting on, then send in your resume as ASAP as possible or call my celly (770) 633-8281. Let’s get the ball rolling on this thing! Can’t wait to meet you all! Oh, and NO FATTIES!