Hello daters on the prowl! Hot singles on the scene! You're in the right place. We at the F'n Rad Dating apologize for the long hiatus. We have been carefully sifting through our millions of potential daters' profiles, and we want to be absolutely certain to deliver the choice prizes directly to you. Today, we at the F'n Rad Dating Site have a new potential dater for you, and she is hellbent on true love. We are blown away by her transparency, and her ability to share her honest feelings. She will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever give up. Never. Read and learn.
Letter from potential dater, YOUAREMINEXOXONOMATTERWHAT, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
No matter what you do, I love you.
Wait, what’s that you say?
You hate me?
You can’t hate me.
That’s impossible! Haha!
I won’t take hate for an answer.
You’re so funny.
Would you like to meet for dinner?
Wait, you say no?
I won’t take no for an answer.
I’m hungry.
And you’re my true love.
How’s about we get together and discuss the options?
You’re not considering any options?
You don’t want lunch even?
I’m confused now.
How’s about breakfast?
Oh, it’s not time for breakfast?
Oh, you want me to go away fast?
That’s interesting.
Why would my true love do that?
Hm, oh, you say you don’t want me to come within fifty feet?
How’s about sixty?
Wait, you can’t file a restraining order.
Because you’re my true love.
I might have crossed over the fifty line, I’m sorry, I tripped.
Wait, no, you can’t put me in prison.
See, I’m your true love!
I’m sure you’ll understand if I give you a hug.
Oh, you don’t want a hug?
How about we shake hands?
Oh, you don’t want to touch at all?
I bet you have inner child issues with touching.
That’s OK.
Wow, playing hard to get.
So hot!
Oh no, I think someone handcuffed me.
That’s hot too!
Smokin!
Wait, oh no, it’s a for-real officer.
After I get out of prison, I’ll call you, OK?
I miss you.
YOUAREMINEXOXONOMATTERWHAT
-- C.A. MacConnell
Saturday, August 17, 2024
Monday, January 8, 2024
Advertisement: B.S. Investments' One-Eyed Stan O' War
Today, we at the F'n Rad Dating Site are busy studying the amazing artistic work of our latest dater, ArtistePeecasoSoulMate680 and so, while we're busy learning about the greatness of fine painting, something new to all of us here at the F'n Rad Dating Site, we must pause to bring you a word from our sponsor. And now, a word from our sponsor, B.S. Investments...
Read and learn...
Read and learn...
Horse for Sale: B.S. Investments' One-Eyed Stan O' War
Bred, raised, and trained on our home farm by our veteran, 55-year horse trainer, Priscilla Soundbury, B.S. Investments' One-eyed Stan O' War has been a consistent showstopper from the time she was a mere filly. Just fresh out of her mother's anus, Stan (as we call her at the barn) began her trophy-winning career. While still wearing the placenta, Stan carried Soundbury's whiny daughter Caroline through the walk/trot at Kentucky Indoors, bringing home the Grand Champion in the division. Even at a young age, with her perfect conformation and unique missing eyeball, Stan was no stranger to the colts, and in any season, she's ready and willing to breed. Soon tearing her way through the national hunter circuit, Stan astounded all onlookers by her amazing speed and dexterity, and we were forced to change direction with this gem; we knew she was headed for some time on the track. Stan may not have won the Triple Crown, but in 2020, Stan became a legend in the horse world, setting a track record when she burned past the rest of the herd to win the Preakness by five lengths. Although the equine community may have heard in the fake news that Swiss Skydiver won that particular race, we at the farm have video footage proving that our homebred Stan was the true, genuine champion. Measuring 17.3 hands at her withers, Stan may seem somewhat intimidating to your average rider, but we assure you, this gentle giant can carry any amateur into the ribbons. And Stan's one good eye has adapted to her disability over the years; she can turn and turn and turn on a dime, and the circular ride is as smooth as they come. In the saddle, Stan will make you feel like you're driving a custom made, sideways Cadillac.
Bred, raised, and trained on our home farm by our veteran, 55-year horse trainer, Priscilla Soundbury, B.S. Investments' One-eyed Stan O' War has been a consistent showstopper from the time she was a mere filly. Just fresh out of her mother's anus, Stan (as we call her at the barn) began her trophy-winning career. While still wearing the placenta, Stan carried Soundbury's whiny daughter Caroline through the walk/trot at Kentucky Indoors, bringing home the Grand Champion in the division. Even at a young age, with her perfect conformation and unique missing eyeball, Stan was no stranger to the colts, and in any season, she's ready and willing to breed. Soon tearing her way through the national hunter circuit, Stan astounded all onlookers by her amazing speed and dexterity, and we were forced to change direction with this gem; we knew she was headed for some time on the track. Stan may not have won the Triple Crown, but in 2020, Stan became a legend in the horse world, setting a track record when she burned past the rest of the herd to win the Preakness by five lengths. Although the equine community may have heard in the fake news that Swiss Skydiver won that particular race, we at the farm have video footage proving that our homebred Stan was the true, genuine champion. Measuring 17.3 hands at her withers, Stan may seem somewhat intimidating to your average rider, but we assure you, this gentle giant can carry any amateur into the ribbons. And Stan's one good eye has adapted to her disability over the years; she can turn and turn and turn on a dime, and the circular ride is as smooth as they come. In the saddle, Stan will make you feel like you're driving a custom made, sideways Cadillac.
For more information on B.S. Investments' One-eyed Stan O' War or theft-recovered automobiles, please contact our 57-year, veteran horse trainer, Priscilla Soundbury, at 543-STAN.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
Sunday, January 7, 2024
ArtistePeecasoSoulMate680
Daters! Potential daters! We at the F'n Rad Dating Site are pleased to announce that we have a new potential dater on the scene, and he/she/they is quite the artiste! Read and learn...
Letter from potential dater, ArtistePeecasoSoulMate680, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Hello. Alas, since I have a doctorate in Art History, as well as a master’s in the Human Form, I have spent numerous years studying the various techniques of masterpiece painting and drawing and so, I haven’t had much of an opportunity to venture into the dating world. Most of my solo, introverted, introspective life is continuously consumed by colors, shapes, models that I cannot and will not ever touch due to contract issues, and bowls of curious, personality-driven fruit. Eastern Washington Gala apples are my preferred choice, although I also have an affinity for Wal-Mart bananas, Bosc pears, and the occasional, run of the mill, plebeian cantaloupe. Even after decades of careful study, I do not and will never understand the curious external appearance of avocados, and for the past year, I have been carefully poring over the contours, attempting to capture their mysterious nature. Extremely dedicated to this latest ripe endeavor, I’ve been focused on the outer layer, the skin’s texture, at every waking hour, and until I harness the unique nature, feel, and shade of the exceptional, external cover, allowing the fruit’s energy to leak into my body, channeling into my arm, fingers, and eventually, my brush strokes, I cannot and will not be diverted from this creative course. Please be patient with my artistic process. So as not to distract myself from this latest imaginative venture, I will accept no disruptions. As part of this advanced undertaking, I have resorted to the use of a close-by chamber pot in order to more easily urinate.
Gender: We are all artists, and we all deserve a place in the creative world. With the proper lighting, any person, place, or object can be attractive, although if my subject is horrid, I’ve been known to resort to a bottle of whiskey and a dark closet.
Interested in: brushes, oils, acrylics, paint by number, pencils, charcoal, crayons, dirty clothes and filthy fingers, those showing a determined artists’ days’ work, nude men on ceilings, women who half-smile sideways, and Native American landscapes, although I find the Pinto horses of the plains to be quite perplexing. Perhaps we will convene at a local or regional art show opening. I would write more, but due to my artistic devotion, I must change my apron, as I have indeed soiled myself with accidental defecation.
Until we meet, here is a past sketch of what I believe to be my future soulmate:
Sincerely,
ArtistePeecasoSoulMate680
-- C.A. MacConnell
Letter from potential dater, ArtistePeecasoSoulMate680, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Hello. Alas, since I have a doctorate in Art History, as well as a master’s in the Human Form, I have spent numerous years studying the various techniques of masterpiece painting and drawing and so, I haven’t had much of an opportunity to venture into the dating world. Most of my solo, introverted, introspective life is continuously consumed by colors, shapes, models that I cannot and will not ever touch due to contract issues, and bowls of curious, personality-driven fruit. Eastern Washington Gala apples are my preferred choice, although I also have an affinity for Wal-Mart bananas, Bosc pears, and the occasional, run of the mill, plebeian cantaloupe. Even after decades of careful study, I do not and will never understand the curious external appearance of avocados, and for the past year, I have been carefully poring over the contours, attempting to capture their mysterious nature. Extremely dedicated to this latest ripe endeavor, I’ve been focused on the outer layer, the skin’s texture, at every waking hour, and until I harness the unique nature, feel, and shade of the exceptional, external cover, allowing the fruit’s energy to leak into my body, channeling into my arm, fingers, and eventually, my brush strokes, I cannot and will not be diverted from this creative course. Please be patient with my artistic process. So as not to distract myself from this latest imaginative venture, I will accept no disruptions. As part of this advanced undertaking, I have resorted to the use of a close-by chamber pot in order to more easily urinate.
Gender: We are all artists, and we all deserve a place in the creative world. With the proper lighting, any person, place, or object can be attractive, although if my subject is horrid, I’ve been known to resort to a bottle of whiskey and a dark closet.
Interested in: brushes, oils, acrylics, paint by number, pencils, charcoal, crayons, dirty clothes and filthy fingers, those showing a determined artists’ days’ work, nude men on ceilings, women who half-smile sideways, and Native American landscapes, although I find the Pinto horses of the plains to be quite perplexing. Perhaps we will convene at a local or regional art show opening. I would write more, but due to my artistic devotion, I must change my apron, as I have indeed soiled myself with accidental defecation.
Until we meet, here is a past sketch of what I believe to be my future soulmate:
Sincerely,
ArtistePeecasoSoulMate680
-- C.A. MacConnell
Monday, November 20, 2023
MrRogersMOFO
Hello daters on the scene! If you have been religiously following this site (we know that millions have become obsessed with our genius dating suggestions), you will recall that a while back, we at the F'n Rad Dating Site received MrRogersMOFO's profile, and we thought it was purely spam; however, he later contacted our CEO, and she did some digging, and it seems that MrRogersMOFO is indeed a real, live, ready and willing potential dater, and so we were proven wrong, which has never, ever happened before. Deeply, we apologize to MrRogersMOFO for our inaccurate assumption. And so, here he is...
Letter from MrRogersMOFO to the F'n Rad Dating Site...
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
just a minute
children
let me take off my loafers
and put on something more comfortable
there now
i’m in my slippers yay
say “yay” with me
actually tan dearfoams
comfy
squishy
slightly moist
and yet stylish
hello younger ladies
please join me in my neighborhood
i am sixty and a half
i’m retired so
let’s buy a camper
travel the country
search for imaginary lands
never been married
not sure why
it doesn’t make any sense because i work hard
pay the bills
buy the girls occasional flowers or a box of assorted chocolates
and like everyone else
i enjoy puppets
except Lady Elaine Fairchild
because let’s face it that doll is terrifying
i am quite artistic
quite the Picasso indeed
i make marionettes
some of them look like real people
at night they come alive
i hope you will support me
on my art
would you mind stopping at Michael’s
to pick up
a package of stickers
and googly eyes
thank you
i don’t know why people like Elmo
give him a different voice
and everyone would run screaming
stay away from danger children
if you don’t mind, I’ll call you “Mrs. McFeely” in bed
i hope and hope
that one day
you will tear off my cardigan
my button down
my khakis
and suck my little
pee pee
Sincerely,
MrRogersMOFO
-- C.A. MacConnell
Thursday, November 16, 2023
BarbaraFriendofGays1234
Hello, daters on the prowl! We at the F'n Rad Dating Site have a new potential dater for you, and wow, she's so accepting. We just love her! Read and learn...
Letter from potential dater, BarbaraFriendofGays1234, to the F'n Rad Dating Site...
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Hello to all of the internet! Especially gays! I’m Barbara. I just had my coffee with Miralax, because I was all stopped up! Not anymore! Now I think I’ll have some leftover turkey, if it’s still good in the fridge. Goshdarnit, wow, I’m not too great with these cell gadgets or computers or fancy new sites at all, but my kids suggested I put my profile on here just for some fun, haha, or I guess as you young ones say, LOL. Man, it has taken me all day to figure out how to post this. Now, now, I won’t tell you my real last name because yesterday, I did that, and I got taken for a real ringer. I thought I was talking to a LGBT3CPOQ organization and of course, right off the bat, I donated $3000 to the cause but oh my gosh, I later found out it was a fake spam person on the phone, and I can’t believe there are horrible people in the world like that. Right away, I had to call my neighbor, Sarah, and my sister-in-law, Suzanne, to warn them too. It boggles my mind that people would be such liars. Geezo, I also found out that Sarah’s getting a divorce, and Suzanne is having an affair with the landscaper, wow. Good for her. Her husband’s a good for nothing, lazy cheapskate with a nasty, mean dog that attacked my Maltese. Oh, please be quiet. I wasn’t supposed to share. Don’t tell anyone. I am not the type of woman to gossip.
Lord no, if you’re wondering, I’m sure not a lesbian. My husband, Dick, passed away last year, God rest his soul. I’m sure he’s up there playing 18 holes and drinking Budweiser with Jesus and his buddy Rod, who was quite feminine and in the closet I believe, but that’s between you and me. My gosh, I’m an empty nester now, but my five kids still keep me right busy, and they’re all straight as an arrow, which was disappointing to me, but nonetheless, I love them all just the same.
Name: BarbaraFriendofGays1234
Age: 70
Body type: working on it. Suzanne suggested that pilates class at the Y. I may have a go at it, because I heard the teacher is like Richard Simmons, who I adore. Is he part African American, with that curly hair? I’m not sure.
Gender: I am a female person, but I don’t mind if you were once female and are not anymore. It is a-okay. I also think it’s great if you’re male. If you’re not sure, you can come right over! I’m just here hanging out with the dog, who has a tummy ache, and nothing’s really going on, except the drier is really acting up, and the dust buster is on the blink, and now that I think about it, it’s been three days, and I really need to change the sheets, oh my. And gosh, the window cleaner’s coming in about a half hour. I better jump in the shower, because I’m sure crummy!
Hang on, I’ll be back.
I’m back. Clean now, but my hair is a wreck. My gay hairdresser would have a fit if he saw me right now.
Interested in: single or divorced men with a boat. I don’t like motorcycles, because my nephew had one, and he can barely see straight or walk these days, because of the accident. My brother told me he’s actually on the pipe, but I know he’s a good boy, and he’d never do drugs, so that’s silly. I do not like gossip. I mean, my brother’s one to talk. His wife called me the other day, and she told me the real reason they don’t have kids is because he only has one testicle. Between you and me.
Although I’m not interested in women for a romantic relationship, I love to meet lesbians; I see women with those cute, spikey, shaved cuts all the time when I’m out and about town, running errands, and I always smile wide and wave. One time, one of them even checked my car oil for me. So thoughtful. I treated her to a soft serve. In fact, now that I think about it, when I was young, nobody was a lesbian. Back then, I think there were some other gays, because I remember my neighbor Tommy having a really high voice when he missed a catch in football but in those days, no one invited the gays over for a meal, which was a real shame. Come over! I just got this yummy sourdough on sale, and I could warm it up. The butter’s straight from a cow over on the west side.
I would like to meet a straight man around my age, one who enjoys a good meal and some bird watching. The last man I dated, Richard Smitherman, who lives over on the west side, was a real looker, but I lost interest when his ex told me he used to bet on the horses, and then he said some negative things about the gay jockeys, which is something I will absolutely not tolerate.
Interests: I enjoy going to the grocery, tennis, boat rides, water aerobics, cul-de-sac neighborhood parties, chair yoga, having my kids’ gay friends over for dinner, and touching black babies.
I have to go! My window washer is here, and I think he or she or it is one of those trans people! And it’s Mexican too! Oh my gosh, I am so excited. I better brush up on some Spanish. I hope it’s still here in an hour, because right now, I’m whipping up some bean soup.
BarbaraFriendofGays1234
Letter from potential dater, BarbaraFriendofGays1234, to the F'n Rad Dating Site...
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Hello to all of the internet! Especially gays! I’m Barbara. I just had my coffee with Miralax, because I was all stopped up! Not anymore! Now I think I’ll have some leftover turkey, if it’s still good in the fridge. Goshdarnit, wow, I’m not too great with these cell gadgets or computers or fancy new sites at all, but my kids suggested I put my profile on here just for some fun, haha, or I guess as you young ones say, LOL. Man, it has taken me all day to figure out how to post this. Now, now, I won’t tell you my real last name because yesterday, I did that, and I got taken for a real ringer. I thought I was talking to a LGBT3CPOQ organization and of course, right off the bat, I donated $3000 to the cause but oh my gosh, I later found out it was a fake spam person on the phone, and I can’t believe there are horrible people in the world like that. Right away, I had to call my neighbor, Sarah, and my sister-in-law, Suzanne, to warn them too. It boggles my mind that people would be such liars. Geezo, I also found out that Sarah’s getting a divorce, and Suzanne is having an affair with the landscaper, wow. Good for her. Her husband’s a good for nothing, lazy cheapskate with a nasty, mean dog that attacked my Maltese. Oh, please be quiet. I wasn’t supposed to share. Don’t tell anyone. I am not the type of woman to gossip.
Lord no, if you’re wondering, I’m sure not a lesbian. My husband, Dick, passed away last year, God rest his soul. I’m sure he’s up there playing 18 holes and drinking Budweiser with Jesus and his buddy Rod, who was quite feminine and in the closet I believe, but that’s between you and me. My gosh, I’m an empty nester now, but my five kids still keep me right busy, and they’re all straight as an arrow, which was disappointing to me, but nonetheless, I love them all just the same.
Name: BarbaraFriendofGays1234
Age: 70
Body type: working on it. Suzanne suggested that pilates class at the Y. I may have a go at it, because I heard the teacher is like Richard Simmons, who I adore. Is he part African American, with that curly hair? I’m not sure.
Gender: I am a female person, but I don’t mind if you were once female and are not anymore. It is a-okay. I also think it’s great if you’re male. If you’re not sure, you can come right over! I’m just here hanging out with the dog, who has a tummy ache, and nothing’s really going on, except the drier is really acting up, and the dust buster is on the blink, and now that I think about it, it’s been three days, and I really need to change the sheets, oh my. And gosh, the window cleaner’s coming in about a half hour. I better jump in the shower, because I’m sure crummy!
Hang on, I’ll be back.
I’m back. Clean now, but my hair is a wreck. My gay hairdresser would have a fit if he saw me right now.
Interested in: single or divorced men with a boat. I don’t like motorcycles, because my nephew had one, and he can barely see straight or walk these days, because of the accident. My brother told me he’s actually on the pipe, but I know he’s a good boy, and he’d never do drugs, so that’s silly. I do not like gossip. I mean, my brother’s one to talk. His wife called me the other day, and she told me the real reason they don’t have kids is because he only has one testicle. Between you and me.
Although I’m not interested in women for a romantic relationship, I love to meet lesbians; I see women with those cute, spikey, shaved cuts all the time when I’m out and about town, running errands, and I always smile wide and wave. One time, one of them even checked my car oil for me. So thoughtful. I treated her to a soft serve. In fact, now that I think about it, when I was young, nobody was a lesbian. Back then, I think there were some other gays, because I remember my neighbor Tommy having a really high voice when he missed a catch in football but in those days, no one invited the gays over for a meal, which was a real shame. Come over! I just got this yummy sourdough on sale, and I could warm it up. The butter’s straight from a cow over on the west side.
I would like to meet a straight man around my age, one who enjoys a good meal and some bird watching. The last man I dated, Richard Smitherman, who lives over on the west side, was a real looker, but I lost interest when his ex told me he used to bet on the horses, and then he said some negative things about the gay jockeys, which is something I will absolutely not tolerate.
Interests: I enjoy going to the grocery, tennis, boat rides, water aerobics, cul-de-sac neighborhood parties, chair yoga, having my kids’ gay friends over for dinner, and touching black babies.
I have to go! My window washer is here, and I think he or she or it is one of those trans people! And it’s Mexican too! Oh my gosh, I am so excited. I better brush up on some Spanish. I hope it’s still here in an hour, because right now, I’m whipping up some bean soup.
BarbaraFriendofGays1234
-- C.A. MacConnell
Monday, November 6, 2023
SerenityNOw1875BringIt
Howdy, daters on the scene! Yes, indeed, we at the F'n Rad Dating Site have a new dating profile to share with you tonight, and he's ready for the ladies, NOW. So serene, this guy. You won't want to miss out. Read his profile and learn...
Letter from potential dater, SerenityNOw1875BringIt, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
I ain’t gonna lie, ladies. Straight up, I’m real, real sick. It's been bad. I mean, real bad...since day one, so when you think of me, think of some deranged cripple. But now I got my sponsor, Biker Butch, and he’s living in some fourth dimension of spirituality, and I know it’s the right road and no lie...I just found out he’s one of those real-life transistor crossdressers, but now that I’m clean, his privates ain’t none of my business, and I just want you to know that I love all you fairies. Honest to God, it’s one moment at a time for someone so truly fucked like me. Serenity NOW, bring it. I’m shaking like the leaf, but as soon as they get these meds sorted out, I’ll be good to go, and maybe we can kick it, if you’re into psychos. I’ve never been too good at this dating thing. Killer Ben, who’s got two years, told me not to date for the first year sober, but I ain’t seen that anywhere in the books. I been praying about hooking up every second when I’m down, and after Bad Betty served up some homemade cheesecake at the noon meeting, I got the answer which is this: hells yeah, ladies, bring it. No lie, I just got my GED in the joint. I tried high school seven times, but none of them were having me, because they didn’t get my genius mentality. God bless that one principal who sent me to my first rehab. After Bald Bob explained it to me, I now know that principal was trying to save my life, which was real nice coming from that fat midget. I woulda made the diploma at number seven, if it weren’t for that time I did the shrooms and jumped off the roof thinking I was Superman, hells yeah, and I coulda slipped outta there no lie, but that history teacher sent me to the po-lice, which made me realize she was way more than a fat dike, and really an angel in my life, and no lie, I came outta that fall with only one little cartoon Band-Aid, because God was watching out for me. Hells yeah. I’m fresh outta my tenth detox, but no lie, I got it this time, doing the steps, and pretty soon, I get my new teeth and a place at the halfway or the sober living, so you can visit me there, and if you got some XS thrift T’s and size 13 Nikes, bring it. I think my head might explode because I already died 30 times, but the paramedics brought me back and that one time, there was one hot nurse, so I up and married her even though her family was a bunch of Injuns straight-up like Crazy Horse, so now I got three boys, but my old lady’s got custody down in Florida, and no lie, the Nazi judge gave me that restraining order, so I ain’t even been able to take them, you know, trick or treating, but that candy would kill my ulcers anyhow, so really, it’s a god thing, but I wasn’t listening to my higher power because yesterday, even with being all tore up, I ate 20 generic stale mushy Chips Ahoys, and I swallowed 35 cups of weak coffee, and no lie, I need new organs, but my dick is working again, which is a miracle through God’s grace, so bring it, ladies. I ain’t gonna lie, it was bad, real bad…I had my first drink when I was a baby and you know, the whole family was partying, and they didn’t even notice me spitting out my pacifier and slipping some Beam into my bottle, and there was probably even booze in my mom’s tit when I was sucking it, because I’ve been an alcoholic and addict since day one, and the problem is nobody but me. Me. I AM no better than dogshit smeared into your fly Adidas kicks. I rolled my first tricycle three times and when I got my Big Wheel, I was right loaded and ran over the neighbor’s guinea pig, but I thought it was a rat in suburbia, so I believed I was doing a nice thing and killing it, and then I saw my neighbor Georgie crying, and I will never forget the look on his face and goddamnit, Georgie, I can still see you, because your nastyass pimple cheeks are burned in my brain, and each moment I’m sober, I remember Clyde, your flat, tore up rodent and ever since then, I haven’t been able to go into a PetSmart without having a panic attack. By eighth grade, I was growing and selling weed, and I had connections all the way to Mexico, and for real, I led a double life, because everybody knows that down there, there’s nothing but sombreros, mustaches, tunnels, and cocaine, and no one on my block knew that every week, I was worried I might get shot or burned alive by super scary Spanish people, that I had to keep using to live and let live. My family couldn’t enjoy one Christmas without me pulling out the blow torch, and you know, they told me to cook the turkey, and when I was loaded, I took everything literal, and no lie, I once woke up in Hollywood with no pants on, and I soon found out that I had crashed my car into the bank window, tearing apart the ATM, and everyone on the block got some of that cash, so I made some friends, but they weren’t real friends, like my home group, but more like roaches you can’t get rid of, and that wasn’t even the worst of it, because the year before, I slept with my sister and lost my right leg on account of shooting up and the gangrene, but no lie, that still didn’t stop me, because I still hopped around and swallowed whatever was near, even on the crutches and at one point, even with the ankle bracelet and surprise piss tests, I was downing crates of vanilla extract, and I smelled like a fucking birthday cake, when I went and murdered a retarded kid, and then, I came to in the loony bin, and then, I was in the joint three years, and that’s where I learned more about black people and recovery. Well, I hope I didn't just puke out too much, but straight up, I'm for real open and fuckin raw, hells yeah, so if you like it, let's get freaky, and I'm all for you sucking my balls, even if you're chubby.
Body type: white, 6’3”, skinny as fuck
Status: separated
Hair: bleached, waist-length locks
Tattoos/Piercings: you can’t see my skin no more
Occupation: ashtray cleaner, shit shoveler, painter, window cleaner, HVAC technician, and sometimes I nanny for Loose Kathy, who’s got ten years clean and seventeen kids.
Smoke/Drink: Chimney/one day sober
Interests: group chat, choice street clothes, baggy jeans, food, sugar, food, more food, good food, spoiled food, free picnic food covered in bees and flies, week-old donuts, group meetings, getting to know you, even if your mom’s from Africa or West Virginia, smoking cigs, coffee, energy drinks, tattoos, piercings, branding, hanging outside in groups and not talking, getting rides, repeating positive affirmations, and Patty who’s got 45 years clean just taught me the crochet, so if you got yarn, bring it.
Interested in: I’m into women, 18-24, maybe a curvy girl with a pierced cheek. I could also dig a skinny cougar. If you want me to be gay, I ain’t playing. I think Fred who’s got 30 years might hook me up with another job real soon. I think it’s shoveling cow shit 70 hours a week, 10 dollars an hour, but I’m grateful, no lie. So, ladies, we can hit a meeting together, and there’s free food there sometimes, which would be cool, and then we can chill and bang or whatever…it works if you work it. No lie, I could use some Adidas sweatpants and a snap-back hat if you got it, bring it.
SerenityNOw1875BringIt
-- C.A. MacConnell
(Note from author: for anyone interested in my writing, fyi, I can do any genre, any voice, and it will always be 100% authentic and unique...because AI might be cool, but it can't duplicate original voice...it's impossible, because original voice comes from life experience, past and present, and with humans, there are variances and discrepancies, and there is also an element of mystery, because certain things enter the brain out of thin air. Just as it is impossible to explain God, impossible to explain the mystery between music notes, and impossible to explain the workings inside the specific touch of great paintings, it is impossible to manufacture original voice)
Letter from potential dater, SerenityNOw1875BringIt, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
I ain’t gonna lie, ladies. Straight up, I’m real, real sick. It's been bad. I mean, real bad...since day one, so when you think of me, think of some deranged cripple. But now I got my sponsor, Biker Butch, and he’s living in some fourth dimension of spirituality, and I know it’s the right road and no lie...I just found out he’s one of those real-life transistor crossdressers, but now that I’m clean, his privates ain’t none of my business, and I just want you to know that I love all you fairies. Honest to God, it’s one moment at a time for someone so truly fucked like me. Serenity NOW, bring it. I’m shaking like the leaf, but as soon as they get these meds sorted out, I’ll be good to go, and maybe we can kick it, if you’re into psychos. I’ve never been too good at this dating thing. Killer Ben, who’s got two years, told me not to date for the first year sober, but I ain’t seen that anywhere in the books. I been praying about hooking up every second when I’m down, and after Bad Betty served up some homemade cheesecake at the noon meeting, I got the answer which is this: hells yeah, ladies, bring it. No lie, I just got my GED in the joint. I tried high school seven times, but none of them were having me, because they didn’t get my genius mentality. God bless that one principal who sent me to my first rehab. After Bald Bob explained it to me, I now know that principal was trying to save my life, which was real nice coming from that fat midget. I woulda made the diploma at number seven, if it weren’t for that time I did the shrooms and jumped off the roof thinking I was Superman, hells yeah, and I coulda slipped outta there no lie, but that history teacher sent me to the po-lice, which made me realize she was way more than a fat dike, and really an angel in my life, and no lie, I came outta that fall with only one little cartoon Band-Aid, because God was watching out for me. Hells yeah. I’m fresh outta my tenth detox, but no lie, I got it this time, doing the steps, and pretty soon, I get my new teeth and a place at the halfway or the sober living, so you can visit me there, and if you got some XS thrift T’s and size 13 Nikes, bring it. I think my head might explode because I already died 30 times, but the paramedics brought me back and that one time, there was one hot nurse, so I up and married her even though her family was a bunch of Injuns straight-up like Crazy Horse, so now I got three boys, but my old lady’s got custody down in Florida, and no lie, the Nazi judge gave me that restraining order, so I ain’t even been able to take them, you know, trick or treating, but that candy would kill my ulcers anyhow, so really, it’s a god thing, but I wasn’t listening to my higher power because yesterday, even with being all tore up, I ate 20 generic stale mushy Chips Ahoys, and I swallowed 35 cups of weak coffee, and no lie, I need new organs, but my dick is working again, which is a miracle through God’s grace, so bring it, ladies. I ain’t gonna lie, it was bad, real bad…I had my first drink when I was a baby and you know, the whole family was partying, and they didn’t even notice me spitting out my pacifier and slipping some Beam into my bottle, and there was probably even booze in my mom’s tit when I was sucking it, because I’ve been an alcoholic and addict since day one, and the problem is nobody but me. Me. I AM no better than dogshit smeared into your fly Adidas kicks. I rolled my first tricycle three times and when I got my Big Wheel, I was right loaded and ran over the neighbor’s guinea pig, but I thought it was a rat in suburbia, so I believed I was doing a nice thing and killing it, and then I saw my neighbor Georgie crying, and I will never forget the look on his face and goddamnit, Georgie, I can still see you, because your nastyass pimple cheeks are burned in my brain, and each moment I’m sober, I remember Clyde, your flat, tore up rodent and ever since then, I haven’t been able to go into a PetSmart without having a panic attack. By eighth grade, I was growing and selling weed, and I had connections all the way to Mexico, and for real, I led a double life, because everybody knows that down there, there’s nothing but sombreros, mustaches, tunnels, and cocaine, and no one on my block knew that every week, I was worried I might get shot or burned alive by super scary Spanish people, that I had to keep using to live and let live. My family couldn’t enjoy one Christmas without me pulling out the blow torch, and you know, they told me to cook the turkey, and when I was loaded, I took everything literal, and no lie, I once woke up in Hollywood with no pants on, and I soon found out that I had crashed my car into the bank window, tearing apart the ATM, and everyone on the block got some of that cash, so I made some friends, but they weren’t real friends, like my home group, but more like roaches you can’t get rid of, and that wasn’t even the worst of it, because the year before, I slept with my sister and lost my right leg on account of shooting up and the gangrene, but no lie, that still didn’t stop me, because I still hopped around and swallowed whatever was near, even on the crutches and at one point, even with the ankle bracelet and surprise piss tests, I was downing crates of vanilla extract, and I smelled like a fucking birthday cake, when I went and murdered a retarded kid, and then, I came to in the loony bin, and then, I was in the joint three years, and that’s where I learned more about black people and recovery. Well, I hope I didn't just puke out too much, but straight up, I'm for real open and fuckin raw, hells yeah, so if you like it, let's get freaky, and I'm all for you sucking my balls, even if you're chubby.
Body type: white, 6’3”, skinny as fuck
Status: separated
Hair: bleached, waist-length locks
Tattoos/Piercings: you can’t see my skin no more
Occupation: ashtray cleaner, shit shoveler, painter, window cleaner, HVAC technician, and sometimes I nanny for Loose Kathy, who’s got ten years clean and seventeen kids.
Smoke/Drink: Chimney/one day sober
Interests: group chat, choice street clothes, baggy jeans, food, sugar, food, more food, good food, spoiled food, free picnic food covered in bees and flies, week-old donuts, group meetings, getting to know you, even if your mom’s from Africa or West Virginia, smoking cigs, coffee, energy drinks, tattoos, piercings, branding, hanging outside in groups and not talking, getting rides, repeating positive affirmations, and Patty who’s got 45 years clean just taught me the crochet, so if you got yarn, bring it.
Interested in: I’m into women, 18-24, maybe a curvy girl with a pierced cheek. I could also dig a skinny cougar. If you want me to be gay, I ain’t playing. I think Fred who’s got 30 years might hook me up with another job real soon. I think it’s shoveling cow shit 70 hours a week, 10 dollars an hour, but I’m grateful, no lie. So, ladies, we can hit a meeting together, and there’s free food there sometimes, which would be cool, and then we can chill and bang or whatever…it works if you work it. No lie, I could use some Adidas sweatpants and a snap-back hat if you got it, bring it.
SerenityNOw1875BringIt
-- C.A. MacConnell
(Note from author: for anyone interested in my writing, fyi, I can do any genre, any voice, and it will always be 100% authentic and unique...because AI might be cool, but it can't duplicate original voice...it's impossible, because original voice comes from life experience, past and present, and with humans, there are variances and discrepancies, and there is also an element of mystery, because certain things enter the brain out of thin air. Just as it is impossible to explain God, impossible to explain the mystery between music notes, and impossible to explain the workings inside the specific touch of great paintings, it is impossible to manufacture original voice)
Tuesday, October 31, 2023
Advertisement: B.S. Investments' Benji Booboo
Howdy, daters on the scene! With Halloween in the mix, we at the F'n Rad Dating Site are busy aiding our potential daters at numerous costume parties. They aim to score! Please bear with us while we scout various dating locations and sift through the millions of dating applications we have received. And now, a word from our sponsor, B.S. Investments...
Dog for Sale: B.S. Investments’ Benji Booboo
If you are a potential dater who is feeling lonely, and you can’t yet afford one of B.S. Investments’ horses for sale, do not dismay. Perhaps you are simply not yet prepared for equine or human pairing...
What you need is good old-fashioned time in the saddle with man’s best friend!
We at B.S. Investments are ecstatic to announce this recent news: yes, we have expanded into dog breeding! Benji Booboo is merely one of our available choice newbies, primed and ready for adoption, pending a potential dater’s full background check, driver’s license photo, copy of their latest utility check, social security number, the names of all their relatives and friends, a blood test, and access to their bank accounts. But indeed, if you pass our initial investigation, and you do qualify to adopt Benji Booboo or his sweet, devoted brother and sister puppies, and you are feeling quite unaccustomed to having successful relationships with people, Benji Booboo will soon help you learn the compassion, love, and care you will need in every single dating environs.
A full-bred, German Shepherd/Doberman/Pit bull/Wolf/Chihuahua/Rabid bat cross, Benji Booboo can attack and win at any dog show talent course; he is a proven American Kennel Club/Eukanuba National Champion, and he is as calm, collected, and affectionate as they come. Sired by the great LassieDidTimmy, Benji Booboo is bred to walk side by side with your family and rest assured, he is fully trained to protect all newborn babies from any possible threat. He enjoys snacking on live harp seals, kittens, and since he is quite elite, far removed from the plebeian American-bred Shepherds, Benji delights in the occasional side of pork chops and choice veal. An adept swimmer and crime fighter, Benji Booboo will never let you down. He also prefers to nap on the right side of the king size bed, while resting his ear on a satin pillow. In case he’s in a crabby mood, no worries, all he needs is a little snack...
This just in: with the adoption of Benji Booboo, thanks to our partner, Bryson Farms, you will also receive a dozen, heavily fattened, live, one-eyed, one-legged chickens!
For more information on Benji Booboo and our latest litter, please contact our 50-yr veteran horse trainer, Priscilla Isabel Soundbury.
Sincerely, all dogs go to heaven,
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
Thursday, October 19, 2023
BUSHBabyHOttz4URRod
Hello daters on the scene! We at the F'n Rad Dating Site have come across a new potential dater to share with you and wow, she's a strong woman! Read and learn. Here's her profile...
Letter from potential dater, BUSHBabyHOttz4URRod, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
I just want to be extremely clear. As a woman, I have every right to speak freely. I have every right to be heard. Ladies, I stand here today, for all of you, and for all those who have paved the way before us. I have spent the last 35 years wearing combat gear, speaking at feminist gatherings, and making sure my head is a perfect buzz cut at all times, so if any man even wants to try and hold the door for me, ask me out, or pay for our dates, for the rest of his life, his cock will never, ever see my hole. I mean, if it’s a really expensive restaurant, I guess he can pay, and that’s OK. But still, no sex for at least two weeks.
Now, let me tell you my story…
Ever since Stevie Smithwad stuck his hand down my pants when I was thirteen, stroking my private parts wildly, although I enjoyed it, and I came with a force, so much so that squirted a little, I’m here to say that there is NO EXCUSE for any of the Stevies of this world. Women of the world, repeat after me: I have a right to stick my own hand down my pants, and if I don’t want it to be Stevie, but I want it to be Bobby instead, because he knows the three-finger maneuver, I have a choice, and no one can make that decision for me except ME.
Also, I have a right to vote.
Thank you, past sisters, for starving yourselves so that I can vote today. I mean, if it were me, I probably would have sneaked in some Ritz or whatnot, but you rocked, and you were the real heroes, and I will never forget your suffering while I’m ordering pizza.
I have a doctorate in Women’s History, and I’m not dicking around here. This, right here, is my vagina, and I’m in charge of it. MY PUSSY, MY CHOICE.
Gender: FEMALE
Age: 55
Body type: naturally stick thin, huge tits, toned ass like a rock. FYI, I have not shaved my pits, legs, or vagina in 30 years, so if you love bush, you’ll love me, no question. I’m literally growing a forest down there, and if you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourself, which is something I can do expertly, because I have a suitcase full of self-love, and it’s rechargeable, so I don’t need you, really, but it’d be helpful because sometimes, my hand goes numb.
Interested in: MEN and one woman (you know who you were, goddamnit Patty we were good, but you sold out to that damn hot, hung biker, and I will never forgive you for succumbing to the other side)
Hair: I ALREADY told you. Right here, right now, STOP focusing so much on my exterior. My incredible intellect and unmatchable beauty are entirely internal, so if you don’t like my watermelon chest, then go find some Barbie-ass bitch, and I’m not talking about the new, feminist Barbie. I’m talking about those whiny, skinny, old Barbies with no dreams or visions other than the plastic Corvette. I mean, the car IS and WAS cool, but still.
Interests: camouflaged clothing, stuffed animals, rugby, gardening my bush hair, skin exfoliants, vagina steamers, cranberry juice, holding men’s hands before I leave them to speak at the women’s rallies across the nation, driving my ’69 Ford pickup, and lubricants solely geared toward female pleasure. We have to free half of the human race – the women – so that the other half can writhe in horny pain. If men are intimidated by me, then let them stand to the side and view me in tattered, sexy, revealing clothing. Of course, if I express my opinion on any of our dates, since I’m female, no doubt, you will automatically cut me down like I’m a doormat. During any such events, I’m prepared to withhold intercourse.
I will not be treated as a secondary issue, as long as I’m still standing in my pink miniskirt on this earth. I am fearless, EVEN THOUGH I am fully aware that women are the first to be affected by war.
Children: debatable, but I don’t believe I can breastfeed due to the DDD implants I had installed before my awakening.
BUSHBabyHOttz4URRod
-- C.A. MacConnell
Letter from potential dater, BUSHBabyHOttz4URRod, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
I just want to be extremely clear. As a woman, I have every right to speak freely. I have every right to be heard. Ladies, I stand here today, for all of you, and for all those who have paved the way before us. I have spent the last 35 years wearing combat gear, speaking at feminist gatherings, and making sure my head is a perfect buzz cut at all times, so if any man even wants to try and hold the door for me, ask me out, or pay for our dates, for the rest of his life, his cock will never, ever see my hole. I mean, if it’s a really expensive restaurant, I guess he can pay, and that’s OK. But still, no sex for at least two weeks.
Now, let me tell you my story…
Ever since Stevie Smithwad stuck his hand down my pants when I was thirteen, stroking my private parts wildly, although I enjoyed it, and I came with a force, so much so that squirted a little, I’m here to say that there is NO EXCUSE for any of the Stevies of this world. Women of the world, repeat after me: I have a right to stick my own hand down my pants, and if I don’t want it to be Stevie, but I want it to be Bobby instead, because he knows the three-finger maneuver, I have a choice, and no one can make that decision for me except ME.
Also, I have a right to vote.
Thank you, past sisters, for starving yourselves so that I can vote today. I mean, if it were me, I probably would have sneaked in some Ritz or whatnot, but you rocked, and you were the real heroes, and I will never forget your suffering while I’m ordering pizza.
I have a doctorate in Women’s History, and I’m not dicking around here. This, right here, is my vagina, and I’m in charge of it. MY PUSSY, MY CHOICE.
Gender: FEMALE
Age: 55
Body type: naturally stick thin, huge tits, toned ass like a rock. FYI, I have not shaved my pits, legs, or vagina in 30 years, so if you love bush, you’ll love me, no question. I’m literally growing a forest down there, and if you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourself, which is something I can do expertly, because I have a suitcase full of self-love, and it’s rechargeable, so I don’t need you, really, but it’d be helpful because sometimes, my hand goes numb.
Interested in: MEN and one woman (you know who you were, goddamnit Patty we were good, but you sold out to that damn hot, hung biker, and I will never forgive you for succumbing to the other side)
Hair: I ALREADY told you. Right here, right now, STOP focusing so much on my exterior. My incredible intellect and unmatchable beauty are entirely internal, so if you don’t like my watermelon chest, then go find some Barbie-ass bitch, and I’m not talking about the new, feminist Barbie. I’m talking about those whiny, skinny, old Barbies with no dreams or visions other than the plastic Corvette. I mean, the car IS and WAS cool, but still.
Interests: camouflaged clothing, stuffed animals, rugby, gardening my bush hair, skin exfoliants, vagina steamers, cranberry juice, holding men’s hands before I leave them to speak at the women’s rallies across the nation, driving my ’69 Ford pickup, and lubricants solely geared toward female pleasure. We have to free half of the human race – the women – so that the other half can writhe in horny pain. If men are intimidated by me, then let them stand to the side and view me in tattered, sexy, revealing clothing. Of course, if I express my opinion on any of our dates, since I’m female, no doubt, you will automatically cut me down like I’m a doormat. During any such events, I’m prepared to withhold intercourse.
I will not be treated as a secondary issue, as long as I’m still standing in my pink miniskirt on this earth. I am fearless, EVEN THOUGH I am fully aware that women are the first to be affected by war.
Children: debatable, but I don’t believe I can breastfeed due to the DDD implants I had installed before my awakening.
BUSHBabyHOttz4URRod
-- C.A. MacConnell
Thursday, September 21, 2023
Butterscotch666
Hi F'n Rad daters! We at the F'n Rad Dating Site have been on an extended hiatus, but please don't dismay! Stay on the prowl, daters. Never give up. We're here for you! We have thousands of potential daters coming to you soon. Here's our latest dater on the scene, and she's not dancing around, folks. Straight up and short-haired all the way...
Letter from potential dater, Butterscotch666, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Name: Butterscotch666
Age: 6 months
Gender: Cis Female hamster
Interested in: Cis Male for mating, Trans M or F for friendship+ toys (for my dildo preference, please see below)
Body type: voluptuous in winter, toned in summer
Hair: buttery cream silky, short, but feathery
Interests: Good evening, F’n Rad Dating Site. I am not usually active at this hour, but I felt the need to be transparent and honor your site, as I am in prime condition for dating. Rest assured, I’m not your run-of-the-mill hamster. I rather enjoy running on the wheel, burrowing in my soiled bedding, hiding behind the water tank, stuffing my cheeks (later emptying my cheek pouches with great ease and dexterity), hibernating, chewing on any close objects (including human fingers and toes), and standing on my hind legs with dukes up.
Since I am in captivity, when I reproduce, although it is not my responsibility at all, I may become confused and chew on and/or swallow my babies. Again, I am not accountable for such actions.
Although I am rather introverted, occasionally, I enjoy an evening on the town involving seeds, grains, nuts, cracked corn, fruits, vegetables, insects, frogs, and gourmet food pellets or mixes. Mostly, I enjoy daytime activities, such as creeping along the sides of my cage. If you are not to my preference, you will know straight away, and there will be no confusion, as I tend to roll on my back with my incisors showing. Also, I may bite or nip at you; however, if you please me, I am rather shy and prefer to play dead.
On the other hand, if I am in love with you, you may spy me grooming in broad daylight. Yes, for any true love mate, I will surely squeak or chatter my teeth.
No stalkers please. If you’re considering it, please note that I quickly buried the last one in the shavings.
If I do find an interest in a particularly endowed male hamster, and I am ready to breed, there need not be any foreplay. I enjoy it when the male chases me in the cage, grabs me with his fingers, and inserts his penis into my vagina. We may have sex several times during a short period. That is how it works. Thank you very much.
Butterscotch666
-- C.A. MacConnell
Tuesday, July 18, 2023
IntrovertNancy104
Letter from potential dater, IntrovertNancy104, to the F'n Rad Dating Site:
Dear F'n Rad Dating Site:
Hi.
IntrovertNancy104
-- C.A. MacConnell
Monday, July 17, 2023
Introducing our C.E.O.
Hello daters on the scene! We may be a little late in the game in formally introducing our amazing C.E.O. here at the F'n Rad Dating Site, but we at the F'n Rad Dating Site just wanted to take a moment to give a shout out to our number one potential dater who hasn't dated for eight years straight...ten, really, minus the two-year snafu, so she has plenty of time to sift through the billions of dating applications we have received. She is ready and waiting for your profiles, so keep sending, daters! Here she is:
She wants you all to know that she likes My Little Pony, thunderstorms, and long walks in the park.
Sincerely,
The F'n Rad Dating Site
Saturday, July 15, 2023
Dating Event Suggestions
Now, we at the F’n Rad Dating Site are absolutely gung-ho, and we believe in true love and magic! But when it comes to ideas for dating events, we are also grounded in our approach. Yes, we realize that there are those times when a potential dater needs to quickly exit a dating situation that just doesn’t seem to be the correct fit. We like to call it this: “scurry the fuck out of there.” Of course, any potential dater could just up and disappear, but that’s no fun. Here are some suggestions on how to scurry the fuck out of there. Read and learn…
Dating Ideas When it Doesn’t Fit: How to Scurry the Fuck Out of There
1. Go white water rafting, level 4, with no paddle, no guide, and no boat. (Our CEO actually participated in this dating event, and it worked like a charm. Her potential date disappeared for good, without a trace and with no legal consequences).
2. Fruit picking in Central Park at 4 a.m.
3. Candlelight dinner with a side order of gasoline.
4. Go for a bike ride through a thorn bush!
5. Bowling. The holes. Super Glue.
6. Take a ride on The Rotor at any local festival. The centripetal force USUALLY holds most daters against the wall but then again, some sweaty, bony, tattooed dude named Frank puts them together five minutes before the festival begins, so there’s always a chance for a mistake.
7. Go to a local park and bring some sidewalk chalk! You and your dater can take turns making funny pictures. Then, at a key emotional moment, over and over, only write this: “HELP ME!” and your dater’s sure to disappear. Also works with fingerpainting and body paint.
8. Feed the ducks together. Munch on stale bread and tell your date the ducks feel like your family of origin.
9. Suggest board games. Pull out Hungry Hungry Hippo. Cry and say it’s too “challenging.”
10. Instead of an artsy play, suggest watching Teletubbies.
11. Make dinner together and pull out your extensive knife collection, as well as your swords.
12. Head to the cemetery and tell your date you wish you knew what it was like to be buried alive.
13. Suggest extreme sports and/or curling.
14. Hm, breakfast. Point at your cat.
15. Museums! Suggest the Dog Collar Museum in England.
16. A serene hike up Mt. Everest!
17. Go caving when the sky looks stormy…laugh and wear a scuba outfit.
18. Go hunting or fishing together. Make sure to share about that time you took out an albino tiger with a machete, one swipe to the throat.
19. The zoo! Say it reminds you of how you spent last year.
20. Ice skating. Bring a blow torch and ask your date if they know anyone named Tonya or Nancy.
21. Look at the stars and remark about how you want to travel to Jupiter so bad like everyone’s been doing lately.
22. Arts and crafts! Suggest taxidermy.
23. A picnic. Bring a basket full of elephant shit.
24. Ropes course with slightly intact, tattered ropes.
25. Author reading, poetry reading. During the middle of it, shout, “You liar!”
26. Take a fancy car on a test drive. And don’t return it.
27. Give them a massage using WD40.
28. Putt Putt. Bring your monogrammed hockey stick and/or baseball bat. Just for kicks, put a little dried blood on the end.
29. Dancing. Remind them that you once were electrocuted and have little bowel control upon movement.
30. Karaoke and bust out “Bobby McGee.” No one wants to hear that, even if you’re Janis.
31. Build a blanket fort with a cardboard box and watch movies in your PJs, but say you’d rather be wearing the cardboard box.
32. Go on a ghost tour. Be the ghost.
33. Take a gentle exercise class together, such as a one-mile, 200lb sled push.
34. Plan a scavenger hunt in Celaya, Mexico.
Good luck, daters on the prowl! Until next time...sincerely, the F'n Rad Dating Site.
-- C.A. MacConnell
Dating Ideas When it Doesn’t Fit: How to Scurry the Fuck Out of There
1. Go white water rafting, level 4, with no paddle, no guide, and no boat. (Our CEO actually participated in this dating event, and it worked like a charm. Her potential date disappeared for good, without a trace and with no legal consequences).
2. Fruit picking in Central Park at 4 a.m.
3. Candlelight dinner with a side order of gasoline.
4. Go for a bike ride through a thorn bush!
5. Bowling. The holes. Super Glue.
6. Take a ride on The Rotor at any local festival. The centripetal force USUALLY holds most daters against the wall but then again, some sweaty, bony, tattooed dude named Frank puts them together five minutes before the festival begins, so there’s always a chance for a mistake.
7. Go to a local park and bring some sidewalk chalk! You and your dater can take turns making funny pictures. Then, at a key emotional moment, over and over, only write this: “HELP ME!” and your dater’s sure to disappear. Also works with fingerpainting and body paint.
8. Feed the ducks together. Munch on stale bread and tell your date the ducks feel like your family of origin.
9. Suggest board games. Pull out Hungry Hungry Hippo. Cry and say it’s too “challenging.”
10. Instead of an artsy play, suggest watching Teletubbies.
11. Make dinner together and pull out your extensive knife collection, as well as your swords.
12. Head to the cemetery and tell your date you wish you knew what it was like to be buried alive.
13. Suggest extreme sports and/or curling.
14. Hm, breakfast. Point at your cat.
15. Museums! Suggest the Dog Collar Museum in England.
16. A serene hike up Mt. Everest!
17. Go caving when the sky looks stormy…laugh and wear a scuba outfit.
18. Go hunting or fishing together. Make sure to share about that time you took out an albino tiger with a machete, one swipe to the throat.
19. The zoo! Say it reminds you of how you spent last year.
20. Ice skating. Bring a blow torch and ask your date if they know anyone named Tonya or Nancy.
21. Look at the stars and remark about how you want to travel to Jupiter so bad like everyone’s been doing lately.
22. Arts and crafts! Suggest taxidermy.
23. A picnic. Bring a basket full of elephant shit.
24. Ropes course with slightly intact, tattered ropes.
25. Author reading, poetry reading. During the middle of it, shout, “You liar!”
26. Take a fancy car on a test drive. And don’t return it.
27. Give them a massage using WD40.
28. Putt Putt. Bring your monogrammed hockey stick and/or baseball bat. Just for kicks, put a little dried blood on the end.
29. Dancing. Remind them that you once were electrocuted and have little bowel control upon movement.
30. Karaoke and bust out “Bobby McGee.” No one wants to hear that, even if you’re Janis.
31. Build a blanket fort with a cardboard box and watch movies in your PJs, but say you’d rather be wearing the cardboard box.
32. Go on a ghost tour. Be the ghost.
33. Take a gentle exercise class together, such as a one-mile, 200lb sled push.
34. Plan a scavenger hunt in Celaya, Mexico.
Good luck, daters on the prowl! Until next time...sincerely, the F'n Rad Dating Site.
-- C.A. MacConnell
Saturday, July 8, 2023
JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw
Letter from potential dater, JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw, to the F'n Rad Dating Site:
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Hold on, let me grab my megaphone: LADIEEESSS AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO MY SHOW, DATERS!
Occupation: Stuffed Animal Claw Machine maintenance man, although some in my close troupe call me the “Prop Man.” Alas, I am an independent contractor, but I hold down full-time hours, and on the side, I also work for cherry pie.
Gender: Male
Age: 55
Hair: purple/black, thick as cotton candy
Attire: the finest, shiniest wardrobe, always, such as: a bright tailcoat (red with gold trim), a waistcoat, a black top hat, and a bow tie.
Here’s my best pitch: natives, towners, orphans, step right up! Settle down into any grocery store side show or movie theatre game room, aka, my front yard. In advance, if you’re one of the lucky few, perhaps I’ll even give you a pass to have your hand at The Claw! Gather ‘round and try and beat me at the game! Try and try again. It’s utterly impossible. No matter your take, I have the X on the machine. No novelties will ever reach your hands. You’ll stay deep in the blues, buried in the nosebleed section. Daters, your search ends at The Claw, my big house.
Interested in: not picky, folks! I like all onlookers, those with or without quarters and also, all passing fans with crumpled ace notes, fins, or sawbucks. Bring a spoiled buck, and the machine will spit it out every time! Daily, for hours, I swallow down some dukeys while watching the crowds attempt to shove a dollar in The Claw dollar feeder again and again and again. Also, watching trapeze, sideshows, Spanish web, handling pickled punk, participating in the iron jaw, and discovering human oddities are all activities that make me hard. Overall, I have a preference for jugglers, bally broads, and bally girls, and I admit…indeed…I have spent some time with the boys in clown alley.
Interests: I am an expert calliope musician. In the past, I’ve also worked as a candy butcher, a lion tamer, and I’ve graced the back lot of numerous concession stands.
Most people jumping around these parts know this undeniable fact: because of my machine maintenance skills, anyone may get on The Claw bandwagon, but all attempts will soon be proved hopeless! That’s right, when JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw is in the ring, no one wins at The Stuffed Animal Claw Machine! Every day, with my secret, hidden grocery store cameras, behind my teaser curtain, in the back yard, which is off limits, where I have my dressing rooms, stock tents, stuffed animal cages and dens, I watch the screaming kids and mommies and daddies throw hundreds of quarters away, all the while listening to a chorus of passersby who remark the following: "Oh my god, I've never seen anyone win on that thing!" At this key point in the show, I laugh, nod, and watch attempt after attempt and failure after failure. Red lights all the way.
I love my life!
Go ahead, kick the machine.
Shake it.
Punch it.
Make a little wish.
Do a little dance.
Do it all again.
No matter what, it won’t work, friends. The Claw is mine.
Now, I will admit this: there is one, angular move…I repeat…one…secret way to win, but only I know the truth, although a certain audience member once came close. One wild cat, a forty-something woman wearing cartoon pajamas, entered the grocery near sunset, and she thought that she was beginning to catch on to my mastermind and yes indeed, she was able to grab one bull elephant’s ear, and she almost…I repeat…almost…dropped the creature in the hole. Every day, right on time, she came and made quite a speck, but I soon grew tired of her flea bag antics and so, I was forced to do this: I refilled the machine and stuffed the animals down in there so tight, even the smallest monkey had to struggle to breathe. After my slick maneuver, even when using distraction tactics, force, sheer talent, and dexterity, Pajama Woman couldn’t win.
Well, would you believe this: Sponge Bob Princess came back!
So, the next time I refilled the machine, I scattered the animals to the sides. I like to call it this: "curbing them," which means that there was no way The Claw could even reach a bear’s ear. I admit that the curbing maneuver was somewhat cruel.
Would you believe this: the Freak Show Woman still returned for more torture! Then, listen close, folks: she hunkered down. She shook the entire machine. She nearly broke the center pole. She even straddled the corner and humped the glass, attempting to make one of the tigers fall into a possible “grabbing location.”
I admit, it almost turned me on, but this is a Sunday school show. Anyway, she was oh…so…close.
So then, I had to pull out The Stuffed Animal Claw Machine emergency protocol. That’s right, I, JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw, resorted to the lowest of the low. I stooped to a horrifying level that no one in The Claw Family has ever dared duplicate! I did this:
That’s right! I hooked the claw on its own cord, so no matter what maneuvers Onesie Woman tried -- shaking the machine, screaming at the joystick, punching the glass, whatever -- the claw couldn't move.
Bow down, Slipper Queen. You will fold every time. Time for your show to close. Shuffle home and find another Claw and dig your eyeballs out. The Claw Machine is mine. Take your unicorn slippers and go home emptyhanded like the rest.
By the way, when I’m done watching my roomful of hidden cameras, if you’re not busy later, we should make a show date under the stars, no tent. I like thunderstorms and long walks in the park. I’ll take you to the cook house. Or, when the flag’s up, maybe we could grab a dog or some floss at a grease joint. No worries, I’ll dig into the garbage and bring you a well-stitched tiger. But catch me while you can. Not sure if I’ll let you spend the night. Sometimes, after hours, I get itchy feet. If we’re in it for the long road, heading for touring and extensive travels, try to keep the baggage wagons to a minimum.
But rest assured, just as the curtains close, when we’re in bed, I’ll whisper that the secret of the entire circus is this: “By the way, for a sure win, you have to lovingly aim The Claw at the upright loner animal, ignore the body, and cover the whole head!”
Time to blowoff,
JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw
-- C.A. MacConnell
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Hold on, let me grab my megaphone: LADIEEESSS AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO MY SHOW, DATERS!
Occupation: Stuffed Animal Claw Machine maintenance man, although some in my close troupe call me the “Prop Man.” Alas, I am an independent contractor, but I hold down full-time hours, and on the side, I also work for cherry pie.
Gender: Male
Age: 55
Hair: purple/black, thick as cotton candy
Attire: the finest, shiniest wardrobe, always, such as: a bright tailcoat (red with gold trim), a waistcoat, a black top hat, and a bow tie.
Here’s my best pitch: natives, towners, orphans, step right up! Settle down into any grocery store side show or movie theatre game room, aka, my front yard. In advance, if you’re one of the lucky few, perhaps I’ll even give you a pass to have your hand at The Claw! Gather ‘round and try and beat me at the game! Try and try again. It’s utterly impossible. No matter your take, I have the X on the machine. No novelties will ever reach your hands. You’ll stay deep in the blues, buried in the nosebleed section. Daters, your search ends at The Claw, my big house.
Interested in: not picky, folks! I like all onlookers, those with or without quarters and also, all passing fans with crumpled ace notes, fins, or sawbucks. Bring a spoiled buck, and the machine will spit it out every time! Daily, for hours, I swallow down some dukeys while watching the crowds attempt to shove a dollar in The Claw dollar feeder again and again and again. Also, watching trapeze, sideshows, Spanish web, handling pickled punk, participating in the iron jaw, and discovering human oddities are all activities that make me hard. Overall, I have a preference for jugglers, bally broads, and bally girls, and I admit…indeed…I have spent some time with the boys in clown alley.
Interests: I am an expert calliope musician. In the past, I’ve also worked as a candy butcher, a lion tamer, and I’ve graced the back lot of numerous concession stands.
Most people jumping around these parts know this undeniable fact: because of my machine maintenance skills, anyone may get on The Claw bandwagon, but all attempts will soon be proved hopeless! That’s right, when JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw is in the ring, no one wins at The Stuffed Animal Claw Machine! Every day, with my secret, hidden grocery store cameras, behind my teaser curtain, in the back yard, which is off limits, where I have my dressing rooms, stock tents, stuffed animal cages and dens, I watch the screaming kids and mommies and daddies throw hundreds of quarters away, all the while listening to a chorus of passersby who remark the following: "Oh my god, I've never seen anyone win on that thing!" At this key point in the show, I laugh, nod, and watch attempt after attempt and failure after failure. Red lights all the way.
I love my life!
Go ahead, kick the machine.
Shake it.
Punch it.
Make a little wish.
Do a little dance.
Do it all again.
No matter what, it won’t work, friends. The Claw is mine.
Now, I will admit this: there is one, angular move…I repeat…one…secret way to win, but only I know the truth, although a certain audience member once came close. One wild cat, a forty-something woman wearing cartoon pajamas, entered the grocery near sunset, and she thought that she was beginning to catch on to my mastermind and yes indeed, she was able to grab one bull elephant’s ear, and she almost…I repeat…almost…dropped the creature in the hole. Every day, right on time, she came and made quite a speck, but I soon grew tired of her flea bag antics and so, I was forced to do this: I refilled the machine and stuffed the animals down in there so tight, even the smallest monkey had to struggle to breathe. After my slick maneuver, even when using distraction tactics, force, sheer talent, and dexterity, Pajama Woman couldn’t win.
Well, would you believe this: Sponge Bob Princess came back!
So, the next time I refilled the machine, I scattered the animals to the sides. I like to call it this: "curbing them," which means that there was no way The Claw could even reach a bear’s ear. I admit that the curbing maneuver was somewhat cruel.
Would you believe this: the Freak Show Woman still returned for more torture! Then, listen close, folks: she hunkered down. She shook the entire machine. She nearly broke the center pole. She even straddled the corner and humped the glass, attempting to make one of the tigers fall into a possible “grabbing location.”
I admit, it almost turned me on, but this is a Sunday school show. Anyway, she was oh…so…close.
So then, I had to pull out The Stuffed Animal Claw Machine emergency protocol. That’s right, I, JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw, resorted to the lowest of the low. I stooped to a horrifying level that no one in The Claw Family has ever dared duplicate! I did this:
That’s right! I hooked the claw on its own cord, so no matter what maneuvers Onesie Woman tried -- shaking the machine, screaming at the joystick, punching the glass, whatever -- the claw couldn't move.
Bow down, Slipper Queen. You will fold every time. Time for your show to close. Shuffle home and find another Claw and dig your eyeballs out. The Claw Machine is mine. Take your unicorn slippers and go home emptyhanded like the rest.
By the way, when I’m done watching my roomful of hidden cameras, if you’re not busy later, we should make a show date under the stars, no tent. I like thunderstorms and long walks in the park. I’ll take you to the cook house. Or, when the flag’s up, maybe we could grab a dog or some floss at a grease joint. No worries, I’ll dig into the garbage and bring you a well-stitched tiger. But catch me while you can. Not sure if I’ll let you spend the night. Sometimes, after hours, I get itchy feet. If we’re in it for the long road, heading for touring and extensive travels, try to keep the baggage wagons to a minimum.
But rest assured, just as the curtains close, when we’re in bed, I’ll whisper that the secret of the entire circus is this: “By the way, for a sure win, you have to lovingly aim The Claw at the upright loner animal, ignore the body, and cover the whole head!”
Time to blowoff,
JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw
-- C.A. MacConnell
Wednesday, July 5, 2023
Stay Tuned, and a Suggestion.
Hello daters! We at the F'n Rad Dating Site just wanted to take a moment to check in. We have a new potential dater profile coming to you soon, and he is so excited to meet you all that he can barely tear himself away from his hidden cameras! More on that later...
In the meantime, an important word of advice. Always remember, if you are on a date, and you're chewing gum, and you need to get rid of it to dive in for the kiss, whatever you do, don't dispose of the gum discreetly. Instead, spit it out on the sidewalk and make sure to aim for an open location where someone is sure to step on it.
This dating tactic is referred to as "correct gum placement."
Sincerely,
The F'n Rad Dating Site
Saturday, June 24, 2023
Advertisement: B.S. Investments' Three-legged Dirty Harry
Hi daters on the scene! We at the F'n Rad Dating Site are forced to take a brief hiatus, as our C.E.O. is currently being subpoenaed for time spent with a choice dater called Sunny Spaniels, who is quite a looker, we might add, but not actually a free potential dater, we found out later. Well, in light of the current case, we are forced to bring you yet another word from our sponsor, B.S. Investments. Read and learn...
Make no mistake, riders. The rumors are true. Maybe Three-legged Dirty Harry wasn't made for the traditional racetrack, but after his extensive reform, Harry has stunned the equestrian world and proven himself in numerous disciplines. Just a mere two years back, our veteran, 40-year trainer, Priscilla Isabel Soundbury, graciously saved Three-legged Dirty Harry from slaughter in Florida. Equipped with automatic firearms, our elite, concealed-carry-trained veterinary team literally dragged Harry off of the boat when he was heading overseas for dog food. Although the meat cutters sawed off one of his legs before we could haul poor, innocent, suffering Harry to a sanctuary in Santa Cruz, California, just one mere year into his recovery, this soft-hearted, but determined talent, a 17h bay gelding, proved himself to the entire equestrian world. After his recovery, Harry went on to win the Grand National Steeplechase event, as well as the Grand Prix at Kentucky Indoors. Respected throughout the horse world, stylish and well-rounded through and through, Harry enjoys his time off on the automatic walker, as well as the aquaciser, in order to continue his therapy, but between sessions, he is ready and eager to carry any rider, large or small, experienced or novice; this show-stopper is a champion in any ring. In addition, with the purchase of Harry, the lucky owner will receive a full set of equine supplements, ten year's worth of monthly free nerve blocking treatments, as well as tools geared toward assistance with his breathing -- a full pack of tongue ties! -- all approved legal for horse sports.
For more information on this gentle, unique giant, please contact our 45-year veteran trainer, Priscilla Isabel Soundbury at DIR-TY33.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
Wednesday, June 14, 2023
Advertisement: B.S. Investments' Neck Triangle
Hello daters on the prowl! First, we apologize. You see, we at the F’n Rad Dating Site recently posted a bio for our potential dater, MrRogersMOFO, but unfortunately, we discovered that his bio was indeed…purely spam. Quite embarrassing for us to admit, but we’re glad we caught the faker before he dug into OUR neighborhood. Anyway, please bear with us while we sort through the millions of recent potential dating applications we have received. In spite of this minor snafu, we have some good news! Our sponsor, B.S. Investments, has just received a patent for a new scientific wardrobe creation. Read and learn. And now, a word from our sponsor, B.S. Investments…
B.S. Investments' Neck Triangle
Folks, pay attention. Not to the bear, no. Look closer. See that strange, triangle-shaped threading that has suddenly appeared on sweatshirts in recent years? Well, search no more...at B.S. Investments, we've recently received a patent, and we’ve named that sucker the "Neck Triangle." Think about it, daters…when you were growing up, a Neck Triangle never existed on any sweatshirt that you owned. Never. These days, when you head out to buy a sweatshirt, it is damn hard to find one without the Neck Triangle. They are everywhere. Take a look around -- all over the planet, people are wearing sweatshirts with the Neck Triangle. Soon, they will take over the world. And sometimes, even some long-sleeved T-shirts have the Neck Triangle. Pretty soon, short-sleeved shirts will have the Neck Triangle. Then tank tops. And yes,...we at B.S. Investments have discovered a way to sew the Neck Triangle onto bikini tops as well.
What is life without the Neck Triangle? Without it, it could cost you your job, your finances, your relationships, your personal hygiene, and in the years before the Neck Triangle existed, many were driven back to the booze. You see, if you remove the stitching of the Neck Triangle, mass chaos ensues. Soon, the shirt turns to threads. A bomb goes off in every major city. Aliens descend from Uranus. Next, you guessed it -- Tom Cruise and the War of the Worlds. Armageddon, people.
Go ahead. Head on out to the store and without a doubt, you’ll see B.S. Investments’ Neck Triangle on a tank top. Soon, it’ll spread across the nation and the world. Don’t miss out! Get your Neck Triangle before it's too late!
Now, you might ask yourself this: Yo, what the fuck is that thing? Why is it there? What is the purpose? Exactly. That’s where the genius rests. Just buy it. Who gives a fuck.
And when you look down, keep asking yourself, Yo, what the fuck is that thing?
For more information on the Neck Triangle, please contact B.S. Investments at 543-NECK.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
B.S. Investments' Neck Triangle
Folks, pay attention. Not to the bear, no. Look closer. See that strange, triangle-shaped threading that has suddenly appeared on sweatshirts in recent years? Well, search no more...at B.S. Investments, we've recently received a patent, and we’ve named that sucker the "Neck Triangle." Think about it, daters…when you were growing up, a Neck Triangle never existed on any sweatshirt that you owned. Never. These days, when you head out to buy a sweatshirt, it is damn hard to find one without the Neck Triangle. They are everywhere. Take a look around -- all over the planet, people are wearing sweatshirts with the Neck Triangle. Soon, they will take over the world. And sometimes, even some long-sleeved T-shirts have the Neck Triangle. Pretty soon, short-sleeved shirts will have the Neck Triangle. Then tank tops. And yes,...we at B.S. Investments have discovered a way to sew the Neck Triangle onto bikini tops as well.
What is life without the Neck Triangle? Without it, it could cost you your job, your finances, your relationships, your personal hygiene, and in the years before the Neck Triangle existed, many were driven back to the booze. You see, if you remove the stitching of the Neck Triangle, mass chaos ensues. Soon, the shirt turns to threads. A bomb goes off in every major city. Aliens descend from Uranus. Next, you guessed it -- Tom Cruise and the War of the Worlds. Armageddon, people.
Go ahead. Head on out to the store and without a doubt, you’ll see B.S. Investments’ Neck Triangle on a tank top. Soon, it’ll spread across the nation and the world. Don’t miss out! Get your Neck Triangle before it's too late!
Now, you might ask yourself this: Yo, what the fuck is that thing? Why is it there? What is the purpose? Exactly. That’s where the genius rests. Just buy it. Who gives a fuck.
And when you look down, keep asking yourself, Yo, what the fuck is that thing?
For more information on the Neck Triangle, please contact B.S. Investments at 543-NECK.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
Saturday, June 3, 2023
SnifflesClishay007
Letter from potential dater, SnifflesClishay007, to the F’n Rad Dating Site...
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Straight from the horse’s mouth, I am 100% alone. This gig is solo. Not attached at the hip. The writing is on the wall. I know this may seem like a pipe dream, or that something's fishy here, but it’s completely solid. Flatten your goosebumps, or I’ll read you the riot act. I admit I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and I’ve been playing hooky all day, but I’ve got the plan in mind, and here’s what will happen: tonight, we’ll lick this plan into shape. I won’t beat around the bush here, cheesecake. Hope I’m not barking up the wrong tree, but follow my rules, and it’ll be as easy as falling off a log. When you arrive at Shaft Records, my old stamping ground, I will be standing near the Lionel Ritchie collection wearing all black. And a redneck trucker hat, just to fit in. And some enormous, mod, green sunglasses. I will be the only one not wearing Chuck Taylors, so you will know for sure it is me, Sniffles. When you see me, say, “I like Lionel, don’t you?” And I will respond, “I just bought a Guns-n-Roses poster.” And I will show you the poster, and I will give you the white elephant. You will do a double take, and we will face the music and know we are soul mates. That’s the plan. The plan will not change, so no worrying, prima donna. I am never wishy-washy. Do not even look at anyone else or talk gibberish, or I will develop a stiff upper lip, then turn into a green-eyed monster. On the flip side, once we make contact, you can let your hair down, and we’ll have a makeout session to break the ice, then let out all of our skeletons from the closet and go for a bite. I heard through the grapevine that some of you got in some trouble laying an egg when you attempted dating on this site. Now, I pulled some strings over at Wild Hole Food Bistro, where we can swallow some chicken feed and stare at the skid row bums. They know I’m a bigwig. So, we can build a fire under that grocery gang and save the cash for later. If you think I’m going to sponge off of you forever, you’re mistaken. But if I smell a rat at Hole Food, we’ll have to skip back to my place. I know you’re a little wet behind the ears with making whoopee, but we can give it a whirl. But if you go AWOL before morning, you'll be dead as a doornail by afternoon. I caught my last date, MsShyStr8Shooter, red-handed trying to sneak out. Well, she was at the end of her rope anyway, I guess. I hope it’s not raining cats and dogs. I have somewhat of a cold. Snif, snif. We’ll just have to bite the bullet and give it a shot. Rest. The night might prove to be exhausting, because I really like to dance, and as for hip hop moves, I am the top banana. I’ll get three sheets to the wind, and you can watch and have your nicotine. We’ll paint the town red, darlin. I respect your business of dating, but not the country that it serves. For this reason, if the date doesn’t go well, I will surely get my hands on another cracker jack. If any of this rubs me the wrong way, and if there’s any question in your mind who is running the show here, well, it’s me. No pressure on your end. I never keep a lady guessing. Always stick to the plan. However, I’m not pulling your leg here. If you do not follow my instructions, I will put you through a rigorous makeover.
Name: SnifflesClishay007
Age: No spring chicken
Status: Widower, she’s six feet under
Gender: your man
Looking for: let me rack my brain…if the partner knows all of my business and then wants to skedaddle, well, we’ll have to settle that when the time comes, involving target practice. And we will settle it. I enjoy closure.
Interested in: fast cars, late night quickie marts, hanky panky, pull-up bars, thunderstorms, fast, long walks, large duffel bags, locked suitcases, blowing bubbles, playing hide and seek on trains and subways, cracking crossword puzzles, walking my pit bull, mass quantities of Sudafed, science experiments, nipping things in the bud, baseball bats.
Occupation: graveyard shift, “warehouse lab technician,” don juan, the life of riley, read between the lines, I’m either loaded or I don’t do diddly squat
Body type: 5’8″, super sheik, I make young ladies blush and grannies laugh, up to snuff, fit as a fiddle
Eyes: brownish
Hair: bald, clean as a whistle
Tattoos/piercings: not sure what to make of the whole shebang
Children: Johnny, fifteen. He’s off the cuff. Helps me around the lab. I’d like to have a few more and keep it in the family, if it’s in the cards, because lately, business has been very busy, and we’re really filling up the trucks, and we could use a few more hands around the warehouse. Johnny’s nothing to be sneezed at.
Favorite movies: Blow, Pulp Fiction, Oceans 11, Die Hard, and don’t tell anyone, I mean it, if you do, there will be trouble, but I do love All Dogs Go to Heaven. Snif, snif.
Favorite TV shows: Cops, The Science Channel, and Dancing with the Stars makes me cry buckets.
I am on cloud nine, hanging on by the skin of my teeth. I WILL SEE YOU AT SHAFT RECORDS. Don’t make any first moves and don’t spill the beans, under any circumstances. No loopholes here. The man should always shoot the bull, then make the first move. And bring home the bacon. Don’t pass the buck or let the cat out of the bag. I will tell you when to act, and there won’t be any trouble, and you will have yourself a new boyfriend, lock, stock, and barrel. Remember, you don’t know beans about this, if anyone asks. If you hit the panic button, I might go haywire, and someone might kick the bucket or become a sandwich, hit the bitter end, see.
Well, I’m gung ho on this one. Can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. You are the bee’s knees. I’m afraid I might fall for you hook, line and sinker.
My motto: hands down or throw in the towel.
SnifflesClishay007
--C.A. MacConnell
Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Straight from the horse’s mouth, I am 100% alone. This gig is solo. Not attached at the hip. The writing is on the wall. I know this may seem like a pipe dream, or that something's fishy here, but it’s completely solid. Flatten your goosebumps, or I’ll read you the riot act. I admit I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and I’ve been playing hooky all day, but I’ve got the plan in mind, and here’s what will happen: tonight, we’ll lick this plan into shape. I won’t beat around the bush here, cheesecake. Hope I’m not barking up the wrong tree, but follow my rules, and it’ll be as easy as falling off a log. When you arrive at Shaft Records, my old stamping ground, I will be standing near the Lionel Ritchie collection wearing all black. And a redneck trucker hat, just to fit in. And some enormous, mod, green sunglasses. I will be the only one not wearing Chuck Taylors, so you will know for sure it is me, Sniffles. When you see me, say, “I like Lionel, don’t you?” And I will respond, “I just bought a Guns-n-Roses poster.” And I will show you the poster, and I will give you the white elephant. You will do a double take, and we will face the music and know we are soul mates. That’s the plan. The plan will not change, so no worrying, prima donna. I am never wishy-washy. Do not even look at anyone else or talk gibberish, or I will develop a stiff upper lip, then turn into a green-eyed monster. On the flip side, once we make contact, you can let your hair down, and we’ll have a makeout session to break the ice, then let out all of our skeletons from the closet and go for a bite. I heard through the grapevine that some of you got in some trouble laying an egg when you attempted dating on this site. Now, I pulled some strings over at Wild Hole Food Bistro, where we can swallow some chicken feed and stare at the skid row bums. They know I’m a bigwig. So, we can build a fire under that grocery gang and save the cash for later. If you think I’m going to sponge off of you forever, you’re mistaken. But if I smell a rat at Hole Food, we’ll have to skip back to my place. I know you’re a little wet behind the ears with making whoopee, but we can give it a whirl. But if you go AWOL before morning, you'll be dead as a doornail by afternoon. I caught my last date, MsShyStr8Shooter, red-handed trying to sneak out. Well, she was at the end of her rope anyway, I guess. I hope it’s not raining cats and dogs. I have somewhat of a cold. Snif, snif. We’ll just have to bite the bullet and give it a shot. Rest. The night might prove to be exhausting, because I really like to dance, and as for hip hop moves, I am the top banana. I’ll get three sheets to the wind, and you can watch and have your nicotine. We’ll paint the town red, darlin. I respect your business of dating, but not the country that it serves. For this reason, if the date doesn’t go well, I will surely get my hands on another cracker jack. If any of this rubs me the wrong way, and if there’s any question in your mind who is running the show here, well, it’s me. No pressure on your end. I never keep a lady guessing. Always stick to the plan. However, I’m not pulling your leg here. If you do not follow my instructions, I will put you through a rigorous makeover.
Name: SnifflesClishay007
Age: No spring chicken
Status: Widower, she’s six feet under
Gender: your man
Looking for: let me rack my brain…if the partner knows all of my business and then wants to skedaddle, well, we’ll have to settle that when the time comes, involving target practice. And we will settle it. I enjoy closure.
Interested in: fast cars, late night quickie marts, hanky panky, pull-up bars, thunderstorms, fast, long walks, large duffel bags, locked suitcases, blowing bubbles, playing hide and seek on trains and subways, cracking crossword puzzles, walking my pit bull, mass quantities of Sudafed, science experiments, nipping things in the bud, baseball bats.
Occupation: graveyard shift, “warehouse lab technician,” don juan, the life of riley, read between the lines, I’m either loaded or I don’t do diddly squat
Body type: 5’8″, super sheik, I make young ladies blush and grannies laugh, up to snuff, fit as a fiddle
Eyes: brownish
Hair: bald, clean as a whistle
Tattoos/piercings: not sure what to make of the whole shebang
Children: Johnny, fifteen. He’s off the cuff. Helps me around the lab. I’d like to have a few more and keep it in the family, if it’s in the cards, because lately, business has been very busy, and we’re really filling up the trucks, and we could use a few more hands around the warehouse. Johnny’s nothing to be sneezed at.
Favorite movies: Blow, Pulp Fiction, Oceans 11, Die Hard, and don’t tell anyone, I mean it, if you do, there will be trouble, but I do love All Dogs Go to Heaven. Snif, snif.
Favorite TV shows: Cops, The Science Channel, and Dancing with the Stars makes me cry buckets.
I am on cloud nine, hanging on by the skin of my teeth. I WILL SEE YOU AT SHAFT RECORDS. Don’t make any first moves and don’t spill the beans, under any circumstances. No loopholes here. The man should always shoot the bull, then make the first move. And bring home the bacon. Don’t pass the buck or let the cat out of the bag. I will tell you when to act, and there won’t be any trouble, and you will have yourself a new boyfriend, lock, stock, and barrel. Remember, you don’t know beans about this, if anyone asks. If you hit the panic button, I might go haywire, and someone might kick the bucket or become a sandwich, hit the bitter end, see.
Well, I’m gung ho on this one. Can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. You are the bee’s knees. I’m afraid I might fall for you hook, line and sinker.
My motto: hands down or throw in the towel.
SnifflesClishay007
--C.A. MacConnell
Tuesday, May 30, 2023
Advertisement: Oreo Cookie Mega Stuff
Hello daters on the prowl! Bear with us at the F'n Rad Dating Site while we sort through our numerous dating applications, which are hot and heavy at the moment! Until we present you with a new potential dater, please enjoy this word from our sponsor, B.S. Investments...
Horse for Sale: B.S. Investments' Oreo Cookie Mega Stuff
Oreo Cookie Mega Stuff, or "Mega," as we call him at the barn, is a 5yo,14.2 hand, Morgan/Appaloosa/Warmblood stallion cross who was recently shipped in from overseas. In his past endeavors, Mega participated in the Royal Windsor Horse Show, as well as the London International Horse Show, placing in the top three. Although he's known for the speed of his trot over long distances, as well as the scope of his jump, Mega can tackle a canter pirouette with the best of any dressage test. An extremely social horse, Mega prefers to sleep in groups, and he will make a fine addition to any field or paddock. Although his skin is more delicate, and his bones are more fragile than the average horse, Mega has been known to carry a rider of any weight. He's a "kick and go" type of horse with a fast and easy gait, no rider experience necessary, but sometimes, due to his camouflage, it is difficult to find him amongst the rest of the herd. For this reason, Mega's been trained to answer to the wild, frantic, high-pitched yell: "Come home, COOKIE!" Scream that like a hyena, and he'll come running back to the barn every time. Mega has excellent hearing and eyesight, and he can run at speeds of up to 35 miles per hour; he also has a powerful kick that can cause serious injury to a predator, like a raccoon, a possum, a lion, or an African wild dog, if you come upon any such pest at the stable. No farrier necessary. Mega's hard hooves are designed to withstand the impact of his body weight, as well as the dangers of any rocky terrain.
For more information on B.S. Investments' Oreo Cookie Mega Stuff, please contact our 30-year veteran trainer, Priscilla Isabel Soundbury at 543-MEGA.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
For more information on B.S. Investments' Oreo Cookie Mega Stuff, please contact our 30-year veteran trainer, Priscilla Isabel Soundbury at 543-MEGA.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
Sunday, May 28, 2023
SweatItOut987
Letter from potential dater, SweatItOut987, to the F'n Rad Dating Site...
Dear F'n Rad Dating Site:
Hello, F’n Rad daters! I admit I haven’t been dating much, due to my recent health problems. Currently, I have a rather large boil on my testicle, but I popped it, so I don't think it's infected. Here’s a picture I posted to Facebook in order to get some feedback. I’d like your opinion on it...
Age: 45
Gender: Male
Body type: gaunt
Hair: bald, due to a bout of psoriasis
Looking for: a sterile person. I also have a flu/covid/ear infection or something, as well as a torticollis of the neck, and so it may be difficult for me to turn my head and kiss you, but I will try! I would love to date if I weren’t so sick. The last time I got really sick like this was back in 2000. That's why I'm so incredibly stubborn when it comes to getting ill. I hate resting, but this one has taken me out. Now, I would visit the doctor, but I feel that social media is a better reference, and when it comes to this stuff, you and your body are on your own. But if you get sick, and we’re dating, my advice is to sweat it out.
Interested in: did I just hear you cough? You need rest, then you’ll feel better after you watch another movie. OH, I’ve had what you have. Better make sure you’re on an antibiotic. You should call someone to take a look at that! I’m on Flonase, but whatever you do, don’t use Afrin, because that’s addictive. My doc is great. You should call her. Mucinex works. You should try that. Or maybe not, you're already on some stuff, I dunno. Use that saline spray. That'll help your throat. Your eyes look red too. Back a few years ago, I had conjunctivitis once! My eye was seeping out and disgusting. It was like pouring out. Sounds like a BAD one. How’s about an ear candle? You ever tried that? I love those things. They're so cool. I don't know if they work, but they're cool. You're fine. You're getting better. Give it some time. Oh, man, you should call the doctor. I know you're not good at it at all, but maybe you should take it easy. Oh, I've had that before, it's BAD. Oh my god, I think I'm getting that too! It’s going around. Everyone at the office has it. I think my boss is still coughing, and I think he has the same thing, but he's two days ahead of you, I think. My Mom's been dealing with that all month. Make sure you eat. You gotta eat. Do you have a fever? How high? Try that neti pot. Do you have one? I don't have one, but I hear they work great. It's all connected up there...it's all just mucous. This could be life-shattering, and you’ll probably need surgery, but I have a strategy for you if you’re interested. Whether you are dealing with allergies or a heart attack, Epsom salts should do the trick.
STAND BACK! INCOMING!!
Did your ears just pop? Mine did. I also have an inverted nipple. I think I’ll hit the google search and Web MD. Wonder why my left hand isn’t working. And it seems as if there is blood pouring out of my right eye. Wonder what that means.
Can’t wait to spoon! With gloves on! See you soon! Can't wait to make love wearing plastic! <3
SweatItOut987
-- C.A. MacConnell
Sunday, May 7, 2023
Advertisement: Serene Moondancer
Hi daters! When we received the letter from IAMBobbieH2O yesterday, we were not aware of what the consequences might prove to be. It seems that while he was sending his profile to us at the F'n Rad Dating Site, Bobbie was slightly distracted at Bobo Breeze Indoor Water Park! when he was supposed to be lifeguarding children. Unfortunately, as a result, we have come into some slight legal trouble. Until we can sort out the details, please bear with us as we send you a word from our sponsor, B.S. Investments. Thank you for your patience. Sincerely, the F'n Rad Dating Site. And now, a word from our sponsor...
Horse for Sale: B.S. Investments' Serene Moondancer
Serene Moondancer, or "Moon," as we call him at the barn, after earning the title of "United States Equestrian Team Horse of the Year," Moon showed on the A-circuit hunter/jumper level for 10 years, qualifying for Nationals, easily winning the Maclay Medal finals 5 years in a row. Proving himself as the perfect equitation horse on the planet, in addition, Moon is as calm and collected as they come, appropriate to use for walk/trot, crosspole, lead line, and beginner lessons. A smooth, mature ride, he has known success in every equestrian discipline, from barrel racing to intercollegiate to short stirrup. In 2010, once again, he galloped into stardom when he won the Kentucky Derby with lengths to spare. A mere short time later, he trotted his way through elite Saddlebred classes, moving on to become a Dressage legend. Although he has been gelded since his time on the track, Moon still prefers the ladies, and he would make a perfect trail horse for any aspiring, wealthy, retired owner who enjoys carrying a flask inside her hunt coat. As versatile as they come, Moon requires no turnout, as he is accustomed to the stall life 24/7. Over the years, during his endless time inside, he has learned to only poop and pee in one small corner of the stall, which makes for an easy clean. Although he cribs and kicks the barn walls so much that we had to renovate half of the stable, in hindsight, we realized it really needed a new look. Once, he escaped and adeptly kicked out the automatic watering system in every stall, causing a flash flood and the death of 3 cats, but it washed our aisles, making them sparkle and shine...well...like the moon. Daily, while cooped up, Moon has been quite useful. Often, Moon takes out at least 10 barn rats with one swipe of his hoof.
Serene Moondancer, or "Moon," as we call him at the barn, after earning the title of "United States Equestrian Team Horse of the Year," Moon showed on the A-circuit hunter/jumper level for 10 years, qualifying for Nationals, easily winning the Maclay Medal finals 5 years in a row. Proving himself as the perfect equitation horse on the planet, in addition, Moon is as calm and collected as they come, appropriate to use for walk/trot, crosspole, lead line, and beginner lessons. A smooth, mature ride, he has known success in every equestrian discipline, from barrel racing to intercollegiate to short stirrup. In 2010, once again, he galloped into stardom when he won the Kentucky Derby with lengths to spare. A mere short time later, he trotted his way through elite Saddlebred classes, moving on to become a Dressage legend. Although he has been gelded since his time on the track, Moon still prefers the ladies, and he would make a perfect trail horse for any aspiring, wealthy, retired owner who enjoys carrying a flask inside her hunt coat. As versatile as they come, Moon requires no turnout, as he is accustomed to the stall life 24/7. Over the years, during his endless time inside, he has learned to only poop and pee in one small corner of the stall, which makes for an easy clean. Although he cribs and kicks the barn walls so much that we had to renovate half of the stable, in hindsight, we realized it really needed a new look. Once, he escaped and adeptly kicked out the automatic watering system in every stall, causing a flash flood and the death of 3 cats, but it washed our aisles, making them sparkle and shine...well...like the moon. Daily, while cooped up, Moon has been quite useful. Often, Moon takes out at least 10 barn rats with one swipe of his hoof.
Such a champion shouldn't be endangered by time outside in the field.
With the purchase of Moon, you'll also receive a free bucking strap, an autographed stick (which used to be a pitchfork before Moon grabbed a hold of it with his teeth and decimated it), and a full bottle of blood thinners, Ace, and other herbal tranquilizers to combat Moon's anxiety disorder, all designated legal prescriptions for horse sports.
If you are interested in Serene Moondancer, please contact our 20-year, veteran trainer, Priscilla Isabel Soundbury at 543-Moon.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
If you are interested in Serene Moondancer, please contact our 20-year, veteran trainer, Priscilla Isabel Soundbury at 543-Moon.
B.S. Investments
-- C.A. MacConnell
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