I’ve been forced to examine my lack of success in the romance area, and I must conclude that it’s one of three things…
I’m attracted to unstable women.
Unstable women are attracted to me.
I make women lose their minds.
Thus,I have concluded that I have the ability to drive women completely insane. Which is cool; everyone wants a Super Power. I can take a perfectly normal, confident, intelligent woman and turn her into a babbling, seething pool of self-doubt. And I’m getting better at it.
The first one (post-divorce) took a full year. The next, six months. There have been others…I am now down to two-and-a-half dates. Soon, I’ll be able to accomplish the effect via e-mail…then I’ll start spamming. Soon, the world will be overrun with psychotic middle-aged women!!! BWAAAAAAAHAAaaaaahaaaaaaaaahaaaaa!
I’m gonna need a costume; I’m open to suggestions. No spandex, though.
Yeah, I just got dumped again. Didn’t really think it warranted a Pit rant…
Personally, I’ve never considered udders to be decorative. Might have to re-think the Christmas tree theme this year…
Do I need to go to the West Coast for these decorative udders, or are they available nationwide? Mail order? What?
You’re not the only one with this power, TheInterruptingCow. I, too, have met one of your kind, and have been turned into a pathetic self-doubting knob. But there are good forces in our world that will thwart you! You evil, evil interrupting cow!!
BTW, my udders are very decorative with lavender and pink stripes, tassles and rhinestones. Yes, you may touch them. Gently, gently. You don’t want them spitting at you, do you?
Excuse me, but I’ve seen you, and you most assuredly do not. I don’t think you could be forced to wear spandex at gun point. Women as short as you should NEVER wear spandex.
TheInterruptingCow, superheroes with these powers already have a costume used to warn away women. Thick gold chain, ray bans, cheesy smile, too much hair gel, izod shirt, dockers, top siders and a tan straight from the salon.
Actually the remark I was aiming at was the psychotic middle-aged thing, but I obviously didn’t have my reading glasses on and missed. Again. And just who’s calling who short? I don’t remember you looking too far down at me, woman.
MY super power, as many of my friends will now, with shock and awe, confirm, is the ability find men who are on any kind of anti-depressant. It’s a simple test for one whose powers are as strong as mine: put me in a room full of men of all ages, shapes, and flavors, and ask me who I think is the most attractive. I’ll say it’s because he’s got a big nose/great laugh/quirky smile/round apple-shaped bum, but deep down my pals know what I’m sniffing out. Of course, this power is useless to ME, it is only helpful for my friends’ amusement. Without exception, every man I’ve dated in the last year and a half has been on meds. Me: “What’s that on your arm?” Date: “Oh, that’s where I carved my name w/ a soldering iron.” This was before they met me, though, I didn’t do it to them, honest! Really! Perhaps, I-Cow, we should send my list to yours and let Nature do the rest?
