My Humps

A while back I went to one o' those dating sites -- not to look for a date, but to take their compatability quiz. I'm a sucker for those damned things. I have no idea why. I mean, I'll take ANY kinda internet quiz thing. Even though I'm a pretty sharp fella, and I know that most Internet quizzes are written by 14 year old girls, for some reason I simply MUST know What Ice Cream Topping I Am -- or whatever -- and I accept the result as FACT.

Anyhoo, this dating site's test was pretty cool. Over the space of about 10 minutes, a barrage of images of women flashed onscreen and I had to quickly click whether I thought each woman was attractive or not. Because the pictures came up so fast and furious, you get no time to really think about the choice consciously. Supposedly, your unconscious knows more about what you really want than Mr. Wakey Brain. Sure.

According to the written results, on the whole, My Perfect Woman is a redhead with big boobahs.

Uncanny.

Here's a sampling of the women I found most attractive. The bottom two are supposed to represent the closest matches to my Ideal:





Now, as much as I trust the Internets to know more about me than I do, the test failed to address many crucial qualities that I require in my Miss Right.

She must chainsmoke. Preferably Camels

She must enjoy cold climates. I keep my house nice & nippy

She must be short. Reeeeally short.

Also, I'm not a big fan of the Vuh-Jay. It's kinda creepy lookin' -- unfinished, like it needs a few more minutes in the oven or something.

So, I guess My Perfect Woman is a chainsmoking Mongolian with red hair, big tits and an Oral Fixation whose been cut in two by a subway.

If you are that woman, leave a comment, a picture and directions to your Yurt (or is it Ger? I can never remember).