If you’re reading this, I am still looking for a housemate. Please only respond if you are neat, drama free, single… and black. Race does not matter to me at all, but please be black. Also, must be open-minded.
Ideal housemate would be a funny, warm, educated, professional, beefy/athletic or at least somewhat fit man. I’m definitely looking for someone shy… or outgoing. Someone to have fun with, laugh with, and roughhouse with – a pal to chill with and a potential best friend. I’m open to being soul mates as well. But really, just friends is fine too.
Please do not contact me unless you are a normal person. You know what I mean. Regular normal. Not crazy normal. An emotionally and physically available, passionate man. It is okay if you are a foreigner, but please be black. For some reason Ukranian men keep replying to this ad. If you are not black PLEASE do not respond!
I’m smart and kind, and full of life. I don’t need any more disappointment. I am unique and virtuous. You must be as well. I like to work as a team. You do the dishes and I’ll dry them. Or, you know… I just don’t want this to be one of those roommate situations where you go sleep in your room and I sleep in mine.
I’m ready for some new adventures. Maybe we fall asleep in the living room watching Scrubs some nights- I don’t know. I have more canned goods than anyone you have ever met I promise. Really it’s like a store over here! Email me. There will be gifts.
Let me just start out by saying this: I want to marry you. Nothing would make me happier. Now, that being said, there is just one thing I want you to know about me.
If you were dead and I was hungry, I would eat you. I wouldn’t kill you to eat you, but if you were dead and not yet rotten, as sad as I would be, I would eat you. And it wouldn’t be some random, desperate, hurried bites of frozen you that I would eat to keep myself alive. I would really eat you. I would size you up, figure out where the best meat was, marinate you, season you, and cook you. I just think you should know this about me. I’ve never been one of those “I’m too sad to eat” kind of people. I don’t care what happens. I’m eating. I am a beast.
But I love you and I cant wait to marry you.
I’m only bringing this up now because I want to take you to Hawaii for our honeymoon and I started thinking about hiking and getting lost and running out of food. Then I thought about those pigs that they cook on a stick over the fire and I thought of you. Just for a second. You know, it was just a flash of me cooking you, but I’m sure things will be fine. They’ll be great. People come back from their honeymoons all the time.
So what do you think? Will you marry me?
Earlier today you squeezed yourself into my cubicle uninvited and asked me if you could borrow Walter Matthau to impress Don from accounting. Well, no. You cannot borrow my cat. I don’t care if you think owning a cat would make you seem more sexy Hello Kitty to Don. I wouldn’t lend Walter out to anyone- especially not you. I would have told you this to your face if I had been able to breathe. Your perfume is so strong that when you are around my eyes cross. Frankly I find it frightening that you think it is okay to wear so much. I have a lot to say about that, but in the interest of saving trees, I will stick to the point, which is: NO. I will never let you borrow my cat.
Why? Let’s see… How about the fact that you openly hate cats and don’t tell me you don’t eat them. You call them meat on a string. You don’t even think of them as human. You didn’t laugh when I showed you the picture of Walter Matthau wearing my sweater. Everyone fucking laughs at that picture. Last year at Edgar’s birthday party I saw you kick his cat Floppy when he was just trying to walk by you. You were blocking his way to the litter box. That is his fucking bathroom! How stupid are you?
But please, let’s put your animal abuse aside and take a look at the larger picture of you. Still pretty awful. You are definitely the worst person on the 10th floor. Even worse than Jeffrey who we all think is a serial killer. I still like him better than you. You are a thief and a liar. I saw you take Valerie’s curried rice out of the fridge, heat it up, taste it, spit it back in the carton and shove it right back in the fridge. I would have said something, but again, the perfume.
I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be able to stand up to you face to face. I hope this letter is enough. Honestly I don’t even know if you can read. But on the off chance that you do get all the way to the bottom of my letter, I would like to say that after three years of working together you have never ever ever said my name right. My name is not dog. It’s Doug.
This is one story from the book Really Short Romance Novels for Men By Donald Bigbelow.
Martin Luther King Day
By Donald Bigbelow
Sherri was sad because it was Martin Luther King Day and her husband was white. She knew she could not truly experience the full meaning of MLK day without doing sex to a black man. Her day off from work was going to be wasted. Sherri looked at her husband and sighed. He was a pretty good husband, but still white. Then Sherri remembered that their neighbor Donald was black. Sherri made iced tea and walked across the street to Donald’s house in a silky red dress and stripper heels.
Ding-dong said the doorbell. Donald opened the door in a mostly clean tank top and boxers. “Sup?” He asked. “I have iced tea for us to sip on,” Sherri said, stepping into the house sexily and closing the door behind her, also sexily. “Do you like my dress Donald? I wore it just for you.” Then Sherri did a handstand and revealed that she was butt naked under her dress. “Hey! Do that again,” said Donald, and they had handstand sex for a while.
Afterwards, they drank some iced tea and everybody was quiet and happy. After they had a little rest, there was a close up of Sherri’s hard nipples. She winked at Donald and jiggled her butt and made Donald get another boner. This time, they did it in the kitchen because that is where the Cheetos are. Sherri didn’t mind at all that Donald ate Cheetos while they did it. She licked the extra cheese powder off his fingers and said “mmm happy Martin Luther King Day Donald. I learned a lot.”
I learned how to light a match today at Andy’s house! Did you know that some things don’t burn? Like pennies. Pennies don’t burn! They just get hot and black. Notebook papers do burn see the bottom of this letter? Books burn too I think, but it didn’t work on the book I tried. There was just a black circle- but no fire. I really like fire! Don’t worry I’m being very careful.
Today I also tried ojinuh. It is Korean octopus that is dried like beef jerky. It is Andy’s favorite food so I tried it even though it looks gross. Guess what? I really like it!
The best way to eat it is to suck off the salt and then throw away the rest.
I put some in my backpack for you to try next week when I’m at your house. I’m not giving any to dad though because after he made me do all of my math homework, he made up extra math problems for me to do too. It was so mean. Then I said “Fine I’m done now. Can I go watch Fringe?” But he said “Hang on let’s see how you did.” Well I did good on some and others I got wrong and when dad explained them to me I rolled my eyes and he got mad at me. Now I am in my room and I don’t know if we are still going to have pizza for dinner or if we are going to have something sucky like swordfish because dad is mad. If dad tries to tell you that I was being a brat, well, at least you know the truth.
By the way, Andy invited me to go to Las Vegas with his family next weekend. Can I go? I don’t have to ask dad because I will be with you that week… so can I?
You are invited to come too, but I don’t think that there is anything there for you to do. It’s mostly swimming and games for kids. I hope you have a nice dinner tonight.
You know, I wish I had known about that Applebees’s Writing Contest last year! I really think I could have won first place, too. I could sure use that dinner for two at Applebee’s. I write romance novels for men, but men don’t need a whole novel. We just need half a page. I’m going to read you my favorite story. It’s called “Thanksgiving.”
The wine was cheap, the turkey was dry, and Scarlett was tired of pretending not to notice Jeff’s mullet. Of all the guys to be set up with. And on Thanksgiving, the most romantic holiday of the year.
Ugh. Scarlett couldn’t take another bite. “I’m gettin’ the pie,” she muttered as she started for the kitchen. “I’ll help,” offered Jeff, looking at her with sex eyes. They went into the kitchen. She began to remove the pie from the box, when she felt Jeff throbbing beside her. There was a slight breeze coming in from the window above the sink and as Jeff turned towards her, the long hairs from the back of his mullet were swept up and ever so slightly grazed the side of Scarlett’s neck.
She gasped. A wave of electrifying heat went through her tight body. Their eyes met. Scarlett decided to give Jeff a chance, so she took her off her panties. “Motorbutt me,” she said, putting her booty on Jeff’s face. “Now do me all over the kitchen.” Jeff happily obliged. “Wow. You’re such a good listener,” Scarlett sighed.
After they boned, they ate pie. It was the most delicious pumpkin pie Scarlett had ever had. And the wine tasted so expensive now! Jeff flipped his long healthy hair over his shoulder and fixed his eyes on Scarlett’s titties.
No one had a headache and everybody wanted to do it again, but there was no pressure to do anything right or be clean. Then they watched a monster truck rally on TV and did it all over the couch and floor and Scarlett loved it. She said “Wow. I loved it! Let’s go outside where there are flowers and other nature.”
Then Jeff rode Scarlett off into the sunset.
My best friend is Oscar Taladopia because his house has a swimming pool covered with leaves and sometimes even floating cockroaches. Crunch! Sometimes we play shipwreck and dive for treasure at the bottom of the pool. Oscar’s dad throws in all sorts of great stuff for us to find. Yesterday we found 3 bottles from alcohol, some DVDs and a book. He said if we could find his hunting knife he would give us each a dollar. We are still looking. I love swimming at Oscar’s- we don’t even have to get out to pee.
Oscar’s dad is totally cool. He never makes us stop playing to eat dinner. He doesn’t even care if we eat! He wears a moustache and a bathrobe and he never makes us wash our hands. One time, we found a dead rat in Oscar’s kitchen and his dad let him keep it! My dad would never let me have a rat. Not even a dead one.
There is so much fun stuff to do at Oscar’s. Our favorite game is peeling the yellow paint off all the walls in Oscar’s room. Under the yellow it is blue and then under the blue it’s yellow again. My favorites are the big pieces of paint. I’m saving them to throw into the fire. Oscar’s dad makes giant fires in the backyard and we get to throw stuff inside of it. Last time we threw in a photo album and some lady clothes and Oscar’s dad cried. It was fun, but my favorite is when we throw popcorn seeds into the fire and popcorn flies out. Oscar’s dad says, “If you can catch ‘em you can eat ‘em!” I love that game.
Oscar’s house also has my favorite food. Spam. We eat it every time I come over. Oscar’s dad puts it on sticks for us to roast over the fire. It is the best food I have ever eaten. Sometimes when I am at school I think about eating Spam. I wish my mom knew how to make it. She just makes regular food. Oscar loves it. It’s funny because Oscar really likes coming to my house and I really like his. He says he likes that we have blankets and toilet paper and doors. He is my best friend but really, sometimes he is so weird.