Every once in a while, when I'm bored, I'll look around on online personal adds.  Not that I'm the type of social retard trying to pick up girls that probably don't really exist in real life anyway, but for their near limitless potential for comedy. I realize this probably makes me a horrible person, and I'm okay with that, but you'd have to ask yourself if this is the final straw that will send me into a lake of fire where people in red jumpsuits poke at me with giant forks when I'm dead.

The other day, I was looking at the personals on Myspace.  Usually they are all from dudes desperately looking for ass, but one was from a girl.  Desperate for ass.  So I look at her profile since the picture of her in the ad looked like it was taken from a camera using spin-art technology, and saw a blog entry for "The Will You Be My Boyfriend Quiz," or something like that.  And I thought to myself, "I bet this is funny and sad," so I clicked on it.  I didn't actually post this in her blog for fear of starting a long-running correspondence with someone I really don't want to talk to, but I couldn't help coming up with answers for it.  Then I decided it would make for an easy update.  Here's the quiz, questions in green type in case you're too stupid to separate them from my answers.

BASICS:
Name: The Admiral
Age: 26 of your Earth years
Location: An abandoned Frigidaire box behind China Fun Take-Out on 13th
Height: 6'0"
Hair (color and style): Black, Predator-style
Eyes: Two
Piercings/tattoos: Metal bar (iron) through skull, tattoo of Care Bear (purple) on grundle.

OTHER:
1. Where would we go on dates? First I will take you to a cocktail bar where I will drug your drink and possibly spit in it a little.  My saliva will increase your stamina tenfold and may grant three wishes, depending on the phase of the moon.  Then, I will take you back to a shack in the woods I know of, and tie you to a rusty bed frame.  Then I will stand above you and urinate on your supple breasts while screaming, "House on fire, house on fire!  Put it out, put it out!" Afterwards I will blindfold you, drive around for a few hours, then drop you off at a random truck stop a few miles from the Canadian border with nothing but the blindfold and an overbearing sense of shame.
2. Who are three of your favorite bands/artists? The only music I listen to is my own.  It's a combination of crappy prog emo, Australian folk, loud static, occasional whining/screaming, and beeping sounds.  My music is comparable to The Mars Volta in its level of unlistenability, with didgeridoos.
3. Do you drink/smoke?? Yes and yes.  Without alcohol, I'd remember I'm filling this bullshit out.  Without half a lifetime of smoking, I wouldn't be able to survive the inevitable Lava Monster attacks.
4. Do you like the beach? It depends.
5. If so...would you go with me late at night? Oh, definitely.  Now that I think about it, I love the beach.  Next to a cemetery, it's the best place to dispose of a body.  You can either bury it in the sand or drop it in the ocean and let the tide take it away.  No one from up here will think of looking for your body on a beach on North Carolina.  Uh, hypothetically speaking, of course.
6. Do you like movies? Only snuff films.  Starring me.  And hopefully you, if I wave enough money in your face (which I will just take back once you are a hole-ridden corpse anyway).
7. If so would you stay up and watch them with me all night? In a matter of speaking.
8. If you were to take me out to a movie would we watch the movie? Yeah, I don't think I'm going to any movie theaters with you.  It's just that I don't want people looking at me weird for standing next to you.  You know, that same look they give you when you're in public alone.
9. If not what would we be doing? Instead of going to the movies?  You'd either be cleaning up pee from one of my many "accidents" while I poke you with a stick, or coming up with new plans to stop the robot menace.
10. Do you play an instrument? Only instruments of chaos.
11. If so...what? Chaos instruments.  They're like regular instruments, only more chaotic, and thus perfect for my crappy prog-metal band.
12. Would you call me right after we saw each other to make sure I made it home alright? No, because you'll be living in a cage in my basement, feasting on the raw meat I throw at you every few hours.
13. How would you rate your hugs from 1-10? Hugs are for pussies.
14. Favorite body part on a girl? The scar from where her tail was chopped off at birth.  That is sexier than a midget mariachi band pinup calendar.
15. What would you say is the best thing about yourself? That would have to be the voice in my head commanding me to eat human flesh.  He's pretty funny.  He just told the funniest joke about how your face looks like a Picasso painting.
16. Do you have any reps (ie: heartbreaker, player, slut)? In all seriousness, this is the stupidest fucking question ever asked.  Which makes me think of how people with no social skills say "there is no such thing as a stupid question."  There is, and this one is a great example of it.
17. Would you give me kisses just because? I'm not going to catch whatever did that to your face if I do, will I?  I still wouldn't though, unless I was really, really drunk.  Catatonically drunk to the point where I'm unconscious and you're taking advantage of me.  I know you probably have a beautiful spirit in that catastrophe you call your body, but guess what - I can't stick my penis in your beautiful spirit.

What Would You do if...
I cried: Laugh, because it would probably be my fault.  And what happened to the numbers before these questions?  Can't count any higher than 17, huh?  Well, maybe if you had all of your fingers you could at least make it to twenty.  I should be more sensitive to your deformities, and I apologize.
I said I liked you: Everyone likes me.  I wouldn't be surprised.
I touched your butt: I'd scream, "Bad touch!" and find the nearest adult.  Also, I wouldn't be offended if you wrote "ass" instead of "butt," and you'd definitely look like less of a total pussy.
I was hospitalized: Steal your car.
I ran away from home: I'd still steal your car, but first I'd fill it with stuff I'd now have time to steal from your house, too.  On another note, run away from home?  How old are you, five?
I got in a fight and you were there: I'd put all my money on the other guy, even though you probably have retard strength.
I got dumped: That's a moot point since you have to trick someone into dating you first, and I don't think you're that clever.
I pissed you off: I'd pee on you again, but this time out of anger, not sexual deviance.

What Do You Think Of My...
Personality: You're probably a robot pretending to be an ugly girl to trick me into signing up for a porn site, and robots have no personality since they don't understand friendship.  People who pay for porn are suckers.  Just make your own.
Eyes: One's bigger than the other.
Face: Ever see that movie Mask?
Hair: It's a weave, right?  You can tell me.
Clothes: I don't know if a tent with two holes punched through the bottom counts as "clothes," but if it does, you look great, champ!
Voice: You probably sound like that loud static that was supposed to be simulated crowd noise in original Nintendo games. "A WINNER IS YOU!! SSSSHHHHHHHHHHKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!"
Humor: Comedy to me is the part of a summer camp movie when the fat guy lights his fart on fire, accidentally burning down a cabin, and later eats the camp mascot after coming back from a long nature hike where he got a type of poison ivy that hasn't been identified yet.  I don't think you'd know anything about that, would you?
Choice of music: I don't know you, but it's probably safe to assume that it sucks, and it sucks hard.
Manners: Jebus, you narcissistic little whore.  Fishing for compliments may be okay on your planet, but probably only to a point.  Get over yourself.  Who the fuck cares about manners, anyway?  Manners aren't going to count for shit when I'm defecating in your mouth and making you like it.  No pun intended.
Friends: You have friends?  Then why are you passing this bullshit around?  If you had any friends, I'd like to think they would tell you this was a bad idea.  With a stick.  Unless they're only hanging out with you because they like having someone around to throw things at and force-feed mulch to.
Decisions: How the fuck could anyone on the internet possibly know this?  How socially retarded are you?  Are you the type of person that only has computer friends?  If so, that's a bad decision right there.

Would You...
Be my friend: No.
Tell me the truth no matter what: What's the point of online dating if you can't make shit up?  Every time I pick up girls on the internet, I tell them I live on a yacht that flies and is powered by pixies, I saved an orphanage from the Yakuza in the 80's while wearing a bad ass skull T-shirt, and I have won three Golden Globe Awards for Best Penis.
Buy me a birthday gift: Oh.  Now I get it.  You're just freeloading on here.  You're asking for a boyfriend, but all you really want is some pathetic Star Trek nerd to buy you things.  Whore.
Lie to make me feel better: Lying is better when it makes people feel worse.  Or for saving your ass when your caught wearing ladies' underwear.  And for the last time, I did it to stop Wilford Brimley from turning us all into tasty snacks every time his sugar gets low.  How many times do I have to explain it to you?
Spread rumors about me: You'd probably like that, since it would get people talking about you instead of avoiding you like people avoid a grown man that smells like pee and is covered in something no one wants to touch.
Go out at 4am to get me chocolate: No, I think you've had enough.  How about some celery?
Keep a secret if I told you one: I cannot keep a secret.  Someone will tell me something in confidence, and I won't say a word about it for a while. Then one day a month or so later, I'll get drunk, and then everyone within earshot knows about how he can only get an erection by thinking about Vin Diesel's head on his grandmother's body.  That type of thing is something people should definitely take to the grave.  So yeah, I shouldn't be told anything you don't want other people to know.  And I can already see the emails flowing in from my friends, all saying, "WHAT THE FUCK?!  DID YOU TELL PEOPLE ABOUT ______?!!"  No, of course not.
Loan me some cash: Get your own cash, you freeloading drain on society.
Hold my hand: I'm good, thanks.  I like my hands the way they are: not touching you.
Keep in touch: Only until I buy back those incriminating photos from you.
Make me a snack: What is it with you and food?  Make your own fucking snack.
Try and solve my problems: Don't get me mixed up in you personal problems.  I have enough of my own.
Love me: Love is for saps.
Make out with me: You really need to get laid, and I don't think a frozen hotdog will do it this time.
Hold me in times of need: Pussy.
Ditch me: Yeah, probably.  But don't feel bad.  You should be used to that by now.
Use me: I'd use you like a fat guy uses a Twinkie wrapper.  And by that, I mean I'll devour what's inside of you and use your skin for a napkin.  Even cannibals don't want to leave their dinner smeared across their faces.
Ask me out: Yeah, that's not going to happen, and you really need to leave the house if you think it will.
Date me: That's pretty much the same question.  Fuck your redundancy.
Make out with me whenever you had the chance: If by "me" you mean "anyone who isn't me," then yes.  Yes I probably would.
Hold me and make my problems go away: Yeah, good luck on that one, you pathetic douche.

I understand that some people have no chance whatsoever getting the opposite sex (or same if that's your thing, but I'm pretty sure no gay people ever have any trouble getting laid, which is why they're always so happy and festive) to even talk to you, so as a last resort you put out an online personal ad.  That's great, it takes balls, more power to you.  If, however, you decide to give people a test first, good fucking luck.  Beggars can't be choosers, and if you're already stooping to personal ads, you're going to have to take anyone that can resist the urge to look away and scream when they see your picture.  It's great having standards and all, but at this point you'll have to take any cheese-smelling, sweaty Dungeons and Dragons nerd that's equally or more desperate than you are.  Stop embarrassing yourself with this shit.  And when you get defensive and say you posted it as a joke, your insides will be sad for you were completely serious.

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