She is basically the female version of me. They do exist and that is what I want but they are rare. We have been out 8 times now and I have never even tried 2nd base. It is all about fun, conversation and personality. If you think I have some ridiculous stories, you should hear hers. I would lose in a contest but she is telling the truth just like I am. I was so entralled by some of them that I got lost in an area that I know well just because I got so distracted by what she was saying. We are going out again twice this week.
The problem is that I also promised my Australian girl that lives about 5 minutes away a date as well. She is gorgeous but a little demanding. I am not sure how I am going to sort that out. I put the Russian poker player on hold, I am about to cause a collision and am going to have to pick one.
My bold - sounds all hosebeastly to me. She probably gives you those totally annoying elbows to the ribs if you simply happen to scope out some nearby T+A, amirite? Or always nagging you about which of those damned heiresses is texting you now? I hate that, and just blow off all that shit with my own space and, I dunno, maybe work on my penis pump or something.
Bullshit. All people are asking is that you don’t hit on women when it’s common sense not to. Don’t send unsolicited dick pics and don’t hit on women at work who are below you. Simple things like that.
Oh, and don’t fucking hit on anything that moves in a message board where you’re clearly been told that annoying.
You, know stuff that anyone who isn’t mentally ill should be able to figure out.
Don’t waste your addressing his politically incorrect content. That’s what he wants.
He keeps repeating the same old shit over and over. He wants you to be shocked. These women are imaginary. He’d rather you think he’s a playah than some loser who plays with Sim Life Barbies.
They certainly aren’t imaginary. They are very real and interesting. My new one had to tell me last night that she used to be a drug dealer who went to jail and hung out with rappers but she got better. Now she just takes care of her son and beats me at bowling and laser tag. She is hysterical. I need her to join this board so that my stories don’t sound as ridiculous by comparison.
I also have the Russian poker player that somehow manages to live in one of the most expensive towns in Massachusetts with no other admitted source of income and the Australian beauty that wants me because she loves the South.
You certainly do. What is especially interesting to me is how you manage to be so endlessly fascinating IRL and yet present as such an annoying, boring shit-face on the board. C’mon, 'fess up – you read this book, didn’t you? I know you did. The only other thing I can thing of to explain your boundless fascination to women is that you can play the gahoon.
Or maybe you’re like the guy described in that sidebar to “How to Get Along with Girls”: you don’t need tips on how to win her love because if you stand outside the window in the bushes and crouch down and watch everything you can imagine she loves you and in a way it’s true because if she knew you she would because no one else loves her the way you do.
But even if you’re a bush-crouching window-peeper, I bet that you really do play the gahoon.
Time to go to Urban dictionary and add a defination for Shagnasty.
Shagnasty, an obese, overage male who fanaticizes over non-existent women and his legendary ability to bed them with his 14 inch impotent dick.
Since Google Maps saw fit to remove my Victoria’s Secret chain from Pyongyang, (yeah, I put it there and it was there for 2 weeks before someone deleted it - true fact - so much for my efforts at solving the problems on the Korean peninsula)
I’m thinking I still have work to do with finding Shagnasty a new home on Google Maps. Pahrump Nevada, the Shagnasty Brothel and petting zoo sounds about right.
I don’t think you can claim originality for stories that are more or less teenage boy urban legends, like this one and your circle-jerk fantasy. I predate you by many years, and I heard both of them before you were born.
Man, sexual assault by deception is hilarious! And tell us more about your attraction to racism. Funny and fascinating stuff, and not at all pathetic and horrifying but still somehow boring!
I’ve come back to report that I’m continuing to peruse the wonderful old comic book ads on the Lileks.com site and it’s giving me a lot of insight into Mr. Shag Nasty.
First of all I’m now absolutely convinced that he’s memorized every last page of “How to Get Along with Girls” (only 98¢), though tragically with zero results. What convinced me is this little commentary sidebar at Lileks about the ad for it that fits him to a T:
You could find these ads in the comic books aimed at older types, pimply mouth-breathers with pale, pasty skin who read the “Crime” and “Horror” books with a peculiar shine in their eyes.
I’m also now persuaded that he not only plays the gahoon, but is practically a virtuoso with it. It turns out, the thing is barely bigger than a drinking straw, and about the same diameter, which oddly enough is the same diameter as Mr. Shag Nasty’s dick, and you adjust the tone by wiggling the springlike contraption so that you end up looking like a priceless moron.
But the thing that finally convinced me that I’ve stumbled on a treasure trove of information about Mr. Shag Nasty’s lifestyle is that I’ve also discovered his women. They can be found here. But please note that in the interest of full disclosure the ad states (albeit in rather small print) that “photos shown are of live models and not the products offered.” Mr. Shag Nasty’s actual women are not pictured, but we are told that they merely require inflation (“just add air”, which Mr. Shag Nasty is full of) and that once inflated “they are life like [sic] in every detail”, and it’s worth noting that “in every detail” is underlined. I’m guessing he got the deluxe model that comes with bikini, pajamas, and wig. Which is good, because presumably the standard model without the wig affects a look commonly known as “balloon head”.
Again, the commentary at Lileks is persuasive. It says “The quantity of anticipation was matched only by the volume of disappointment”. After which, of course, the disappointed purchaser goes off and makes a nuisance of himself haunting an Internet board. Pity that it had to be this one.
