(The following was written under the influence of a lot of expired Ibuprofen)
Sure this town is filled with world-class restaurants, hot clubs, and trendy shops. Yet as a girl with simple tastes, all I need sometimes to have an adventure in our city is a cup of coffee and the Reader.
After reading last week’s issue I now can end my search for a methadone clinic that not only offers free methadone during your birthday week, but also has complimentary gourmet coffee. Hey, knowledge is power, right?
But true enlightenment came in the pages of the classifieds. This is the place where the debaucheries of our fellow Chicagoans are documented for all prosperity. . . oh and people are trying to sell stuff, too.
First off, we have the Reader Matches which are your garden-variety looking for love ads. Following the matches are the Adult Services ads. Pretty straightforward. No surprises to be had there.
This leaves the XXX Matches from where I dare say the ad honchos at Leo Burnett could recruit copy writers. Their vivid prose uses few words to successfully describe what they’d like to see happen with the various appendages and orifices of the human body.
Now I have a pretty open mind, but there’s one ad that I can’t begin to understand. One gentlemen rattled off a litany of things he’s into.
“I’m into streaking, (this, that, and the other,) and butt-sniffing.”
I wondered for a bit how he figured out that he was a sniffer. Of course I also am at a loss to see how his sniffees derives any pleasure from this.
In the end I concluded that like any great explorer in history, the sniffer was searching for something else, yet ended up at a completely different destination and decided to stay.
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