People out there misjudge me. Marcia Wainwright, for example, is certain that I need to lose thirty pounds in thirty days. She proposes that I use her "miracle African weight loss herbs." OK, maybe I'm a few pounds above my fighting weight, but certainly not thirty -- what the heck is she thinking? Joellie Adella is concerned about my hair loss situation. Elsie Bertie thinks that I need fuller and more erotic lips. Susan van Elk wants to help me discover the benefits of a healthy colon. The "enormity" of my "manhood" is a worry of Penelope French; its lack of "rockhardness" seems to make Hoodiea Gordoni mighty eager to come to my aid. Jacklyn Hughes feels that my sperm count is low; she can help (but how? and for goodness sake-- why?). Thank you very much, guys, but I don't really need your assistance: hair, lips, colon, etc. are all doing just fine. There's more: Caroline McPherson and William McWilliams both think that I need to accessorize: she suggests "bling watches and designer handbags" while he proposes "Rolex replicas." I don't know what Natasasha (sic) thinks she knows about me, but, frankly, I'm not especially anxious to employ her services as a "screwbuddy"; nor do I welcome the efforts of Ms. Ginger Snapz -- possibly a pseudonym-- who has big surprises in store for me and whose specialty is pole-dancing. These ladies have a wrong impression. So too does Teressa Brandel, who offers to solve all my problems by introducing me to "horny teen barnyard slutzz." Not this grandpa.
Considering all the negativity, it's good to know that there are not only Russian princesses but also a former Nigerian cabinet official out there who are eager to improve my finances. They both have "unbelievable offers" for me. Sure I have to send a few thousand bucks to an offshore bank, but I'm promised a return of great enormity on an investment that is rockhard.