MY 2  CENTS

"Please allow me to introduce myself..."

Dateline: Irish Canyon/Sand Wash - 12/12/07 by Roderigo Wintershorts

     I guess no one will ever forget who they were or who they were staying with when the above words were first spoken. Unless you're in the throes of Asperger's Disorder you might remember the PBS British Invasion DVD (for the $99 pledge) that featured a quirky, stick-figure Brit. He had a huge mouthful teeth that looked  like the front grill of a `54 Buick Roadmaster and pants so tight that when he farted he blew his shoes off.

     I'm talking about His Satanic Majesty's Request, The Monkey Man, Mister Jumpin' Jack, Honky Tonkin' Midnight Ramblering, Emotional Rescuer... Dude - the inimitable Sir Mick Jagged.

     Up until this double-clutching wildman pulled of The Big Pussy Heist of 1964, hot gals were dropping their skivvies for guys named Chubby and Fats. Hell boy, by 1964 Elvis himself was ballooned up to 285 pounds and had to have a trained Capuchin monkey help him wrangle his bungwadden.

     Ed. Note: The hapless simian - Lucky Ducky - was left nothing in The King's will and died flat broke in an Arkansas Animal Research laboratory years later from chronic chancre sores.

     So the skinny Brits arrived and laid claim to every skinny girl in America. Any girl smart enough to snag a guy worth banging started trying to look like Twiggy: Big vacant eyes, flat as day-old ale, no butt,- except when she was making excuses for not wanting to have sex with you - "I'd like too, but..."

     Then came the list of lame bullcrap reasons. So, as a public service to my devoted nochubbies.com readers, I printing for the first time my sure-fire snappy comebacks. Good luck "fishin'".

     "...I'm having my period..." 

     "You're not having a period in your mouth, are you?"

     "...I want to get to know you better..."

     "Trust me, when I'm done with you, you'll know PLENTY!"

     "...I'm saving it for when I get married..."

     "Married? Who the fuck would ever marry a prude?"

     "...I just broke up with my boyfriend and I'm not ready yet..."

     "Ready for what? I probably have the same equipment he did!"

     "...I don't want to spoil our friendship..."

     "And you think this sort of Soap Opera crap is helping?"

     "...I don't want you to think I'm loose..."

     "No problem. I can check it out with my thumb first."

     "...My vagina hurts..."

     "...So does my tallywhacker. Your point is?..."

     See what I'm saying? Things have changed. Thanks to Women's Lib and the Nutcase Feminists who have survived Lesbian Domestic Violence since the `70's, most women are emotional 14-year olds. And we are in a terminal epidemic of Baby Fat rolled out over the top of too-tight jeans.

     We guys want lanky babes with full-on libidos, flabless fornicators who like to experiment and have the most important quality a potential lover-gal can have - a firmly established sense of low self-esteem.

     Like I always say, "If I wanted an rocket-science-type or a brainy Astronaut Babe to bang, I'd hang around Cape Canaveral."

-Drop me a line: roderigo@cochubbies.com

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