I would like a man to perform some duties that have become beholden to him through generations of selection, and to a lesser degree, racism, sexism and plain stupidity. Here's what I need. I need a man, first and foremost, to get my damn car out of the snow. There's only one of me. I need someone to push it and by "it" I mean car. You can say, "crank it!" or maybe "gun it!" or "that's my FOOT, goddammit!" Seriously I need groceries. Oh. Also I need a tune-up. On the car. I can help, I will purchase the air filter and flushing fluid or whatever. Now, other things I need you to do include some simple patchwork on my walls. Then you'll need to paint of course. I mean, I could do this I guess, but see I lack the tools and this just would be a nice gesture on your part. Also I'm going to need furniture and its subsequent arrangement. You are the perfect candidate what with your higher muscle to fat ratio. Remember to lift with your knees, hon. Also the bathroom is pretty gross. It needs to be finished since my man-boy landlord figure is as useless, as say, the elder Rocky Balboa, electric toothbrushes (are you really so lazy you find the task of rotating toothbrush in circular manner yourself daunting?) and WalMart. I don't currently have anyone whose ass needs to be whooped, but we will work on that. I'd expect no less of you than to fly into a jealous mad rage for my dubious honor. I'd be mad at first but then secretly delighted. I'd also like a man to be more knowledgeable about alcohol than I am. I don't drink that much. But I enjoy it and I don't know what to order. You may NOT take advantage of this arrangement by sitting bourbon in front of me, repeatedly, and letting me drink it because if I didn't it would be wasted. You know how I hate waste. But I also hate dry-heaving and sleeping with my contacts in. I need someone with whom I can purchase a house. You can store your wall patch, metric wrenches, and girly mags (frown) in it and I will store myself and collection of houseplants. I can't justify buying a house myself. And certainly the steps would be crooked or door mishung and there are limits, as mentioned previously, to my supreme handiness. You can have a workshop and I want a large bathtub surrounded my mysterious feminine products subtly reminding me that my wa-hoo is dirty and thus I am not worthy of love/validation. I think we should get some cats. While I have a computer, obviously, it is probably laden with viruses and insecure and god knows what else. I bet you can fix this. I'd also like decent speakers through which to broadcast woxy, wnku, and npr. Really anything with letters. If you are unfamiliar with these broadcasts, please exit stage right and slip on the ice immediately. In return, I perform Womanly Duties that have become beholden to me through generations of selection, and to a lesser degree, racism, sexism, and plain stupidity. They include: being more socially and environmentally conscious than you generally speaking, eating healthy (and making you eat healthy too), being passive-aggressive instead of directly communicating, complaining that you are too sensitive, witholding sex in case of argument, and perhaps bearing your offspring. Things I don't do that women may typically do include shopping (except food and your ass is coming to the farmers market too), asking you about my ass, and talking excessively. Things I find unacceptable but could possibly turn my head if performed your Duties include excess. Such as excessive smoking, excessive gaming, excessive masturbation, excessive TV, excessive leaving your dirty socks/dishes strewn about, really excessive anything. Things you find unacceptable but could possibly turn your head might include: negativity (working on it), thrift (not working on it), excess sarcasm (see previous statement). Also I only really shave during the summer and then only knee-length. Frequently the hair on my head is just out of control. I except that your bad habits will influence me and shorten my life span and my good habits will influence yours and lengthen your life span. Nonetheless, you will die before me and then I'll have to post on Craigslist again. Until then I look forward to your replies which either praise me or tell me to go fuck myself.
Friday, March 20, 2009