Monday 23 July 2007

The dating game: poetic & romantic as a meat cleaver

internet-dating-for-men-hig

IF: poem (a companion piece to this)

13 comments:

soulbrush said...

hey, don't sweat the small stuff!

Anonymous said...

too funny

Steve said...

Don't sweat the small stuff FY?

Two words for you.

Pot.
Kettle.

Anonymous said...

I have never dated anyone with Alphonso Mangoes for breasts. Gutted

Anonymous said...

Heheheahahaha.. I LOVE IT!!

biteyourowntail said...

Oh god. I'm going to become a recluse. No wait a sec - I already am a recluse. Mr Prozac, it's you and me. It's the only solution.

soulbrush said...

haha at least i outta the dating game.
that's one game i didn't enjoy playing.

Mim said...

Bite your own prozac - now there's an option
love the little losers in this poem

thefridayfrog said...

it's just she's, she's....WHAT? what the hell is WRONG with her? can't the lil pill guy go out there and find some freakin happiness fer crying out loud?

verry funny, very silly, very pithy, lil pill guy.

Anonymous said...

oh honey. i could swallow you whole!

biteyourowntail said...

I should take up the Cat's offer if I were you ;0

Steve said...

That would be Cat from Missoula Montana, yeah?

Either she's got a very long tongue, or we're all still functioning VERY MUCH in the virtual realm here.

Unknown said...

yay! this one made me smile.