Let's Scrap

To all the self-proclaimed bad asses out there, I challenge you to a fight, a round of fisticuffs if you will. I am a chick and I am confident I will eat your lunch and take your milk money.

You see, when I was a young student I lived abroad in Cairo. I was deeply fascinated by ancient Egyptian culture and was in the process of completing my thesis on the notion that King Tutankhamen was emphatically obsessed with the world of beastiality. I uncovered countless hieroglyphics that portrayed the young king corn holing cats, geese, and even puppies that hadn’t opened their eyes yet. It was unsettling to say the least. I presume that the Egyptian government became weary of my snooping, and while walking home one day, I was ambushed by a gang of three nefarious men. They pinned me down and took turns violating my belly button in such abominable ways that they turned it from an innie to an outie. They also took Polaroid shots while they forced their rotten dingle berries down my throat. To conclude their extravaganza of terror, they triple donkey punched me and left me for dead in a pile of camel dung. It was horrifying. But what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.

So I’ve been taking ‘roids. Mostly D-ball, and let me tell you something folks, this stuff works. I’m fucking jacked. I can bench press over 200lbs (90.72 kg) and squat over 400lbs (181.44 kg), and I only weigh about 135lbs. I’ve also spent the last three years mastering the arts of karate, judo, jiu-jitsu, and tae kwon do. In short, I’m dangerous so dangerous. I am going to ensure that no man ever desecrates my body like that again, unless of course I let him. I’ve made a habit out of going to bars and ruining a guy’s shit for looking at me funny. I can see how someone might find this strange, but it helps me sleep at night. Some people play golf, I break faces. As of right now I hold a record of 29-0. But lately I’ve been feeling lonely. If there’s one thing I like more than smearing some fella’s grill all over an asphalt curb, it’s having a man spoon me and tell me how pretty I am. But he must be more than just an ordinary man.

I’m looking for a ninja. One gifted in the art of stealth who can challenge me both physically and mentally. Our first meeting we likely begin with me engaging you in mortal combat. If you’re not prepared, you’ll likely not walk away from the encounter. There is nothing more romantic to me than a late-night rendezvous of deadly sparring with that special someone. So if you’re up for the test and think you can handle a woman with a two inch clitoris, don’t hesitate to make an appointment today. How’s midnight by the flagpole sound? I don’t wear panties.