Pick Up Lines For Girls Dirty

| May 12, 2012

Thomas asks…

Looking for a beautiful women to spoil?

My name is Cameron Boose Im 20.

I’m looking for a fun, flirty, sexy women to spoil. I have a large amount of income and want a beautiful women to spent it on. Something long term possibly, who ever can send me the sexiest message, and catches my attention I will reply too. If I choose you our first dat will be a nice lunch at the paradise cafe, followed by shopping at the North park mall (lets get you some sexy new clothes) and a visit to the nail salon, i love a well kept women. Then we can end the night by going to the lake and having a nice talk. If this sound like something you would like send me a flirty, fun dirty text something along the lines of: Hey cambo, im want to see you soon, lets hook up daddy. Just go for it!! I want a confident straight forward girl that loves being spolied!!!

Txt me(; 2 1 4 5 3 5 3 2 1 0 if i dont reply with in a hour you havn’t been picked:) {wait atleast 5 mins before sending mutiple txt}

2145353210 <3 Yes, I'm legit.

Although not necessary and picture would be a plus(;

answers:

Look, you can’t buy a woman whos worth your time & who will love you… You seem like a cool confident dude, but you have to give what you recieve, you cant just give and give to someone who takes and doesnt give back what you deserve… So thats what i think,, but if you want to do this i wish you luck!! Hopefully you find someone C: mine ? Http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20120310224246AA4bCXq

Susan asks…

Is this considered normal for a babysitter to do?

I am a SAHM that so happens to be a certified Early Childhood/Elementary/Special Ed teacher. I am also trained in SIDS/First Aid/CPR for Infants and Adults. I have 13+ years of classroom experience ranging from daycare to high school. I am presently babysitting 2 children in my home. In NC, a person can babysit up to 2 unrelated children in their home without being licensed. I am currently applying for my license and have a mentor Case Social Worker assigned to my home. She helps me document and everything. Well, I have a 18 month old little girl that is very picky about the food she eats. I supply both parents with an activities plan and menu. This mother has told me about the little girls being hungry when she gets home, she gets picked up at 6:30pm every day. Snack time is 3:30 every day. I change her and rub Desitin on her with every change. I am also potty training her. I wash and braid her hair once a week. Her mother doesn’t like me sending dirty clothes home, so I have to wash them be fore placing them in hr diaper bag. I am trying to ween her from the bottle to cup. This little girl only eats veggies and fruits without spitting whatever out onto the floor. She cries every morning when her mom drops her off. Mom hints to me not taking the right care of her. If that is not enough, I also have a 4 month old little one that has a mom who wants me to text her pics every 2 hours or so. I also apply Desitin on him with every change. He is breast fed, but I have bottles for him. I have to place the bottles in a bowl of boiling water to warm up for his feeding. I also have to wash him with a washcloth, because she doesn’t like wipes. I have had to supply my own bouncer, swing, play mat, and play yard with bassinet for him out of my own money. The sad part is that I only charge $85 a week per child. That includes meals and such. I am supposed to have tummy time with the 4 month old every day. I take them both for walks to the park. We hae a play set out back of our home and they play on that. I also have age appropriate toys or both children. If I am now just considered a babysitter, should I have to do all of this for $85 a week? Also, the mother of the 4 month old has asked me if I plan on taking on more children once I become licensed. She really only wanted me to watch her son only. Was she out of line for requesting that I not raise my rates and not take on more kids?

answers:

Having to supply your own bouncer, play mat, play yard, age appropriate toys etc is normal. It’s part of having a day care business. Washing the kids’ clothes is not! Not taking on more children or keeping the rates low because the parents request it, is not normal, either. Texting pics every two hours is not normal. You are going way out of your way to make the mothers happy. If they want one-on-one care for their child, they need to hire a nanny and pay accordingly.

Give the mothers advance warning that once you are licensed, you will take in more children and also raise your rates. If they don’t like it, they can find somebody else.

The things that you are doing for the kids is what a parent can expect from a nanny and even a nanny might draw the line when it comes to washing the kid’s clothes.

Charles asks…

What should I title my short story?

It’s about a girl with a superiority complex (yes, it’s a thing) and I’m really not looking for suggestions. I know it’s crap and a lot of it doesn’t make any sense. I just need a title.

Title Goes Here

Amanda Reynolds was extraordinary. She knew that, and she considered it every day of her mortal life. Amanda was better than anyone else. Sure, she may have seemed normal to the naked eye. Every day, she woke up, brushed her teeth, ran on her treadmill, took a shower, and scarfed a banana-nut muffin before dashing off to her job as an investment banker. But her dirty little secret was that she was better than anyone else she knew, and, for that matter, anyone else in the world. Amanda didn’t mind keeping this a secret; it was not as if she couldn’t handle it. Amanda was perfect at keeping secrets. She found that she enjoyed the additional challenge of exercising her secret-keeping skills day after day. Her singing could send a baby to sleep for days; her sonatas could bring a man back to life. When Amanda drove, she drove with such precision that she had been questioned by the police as to why she wasn’t weaving. Her graceful movements far surpassed those of the most accomplished ballerina. She had all the potential to be the next great American chef, and she had once caused a hurricane merely by blowing out her birthday candles. She had memorized the encyclopedia in two days, but she could never express it to anyone. That was okay; Amanda knew that she was better than anyone, and that was all that mattered.
Amanda took the subway to work. In her company was an old man reading a book, a grungy-looking man in his thirties (clearly homeless), and a teenage boy who sat in the corner with a dopey grin on his face, listening to music with the most horrific orange headphones.
The old man sat peacefully on his seat, reading a novel far below his maturity level and expertise. Amanda had read the book years before. Then again, perhaps the man’s mind was going. He looked as if Noah gave him shotgun on the ark.
Amanda laughed at her hilarious inside joke.
Her glance shifted to the homeless man. His plaid shirt draped itself over his frail shoulders, exposing a horrendous thatch of chest hair. His shorts were full of holes that displayed so much more than Amanda was inclined to see. The man took a pocket knife out of the lining of his shirt and brought it up to his blackened, hollow, decaying teeth. He began to pick away at the mounds of tartar that had built up on and between his teeth, as if that would somehow decrease their ghastly visage. Amanda didn’t understand why the man didn’t just brush his teeth, dress himself properly, and go get a job. Well, it wasn’t so much that she didn’t understand. Amanda understood everything. She knew that the man was lazy and unbelievably unintelligent—probably psychologically challenged, as well. If she were the man, though, she would have pulled herself together, walked straight into an interview for a high-paying corporate job, and dazzled her future employers with an eloquent speech. Then again, everyone in the world couldn’t think like Amanda. A person of her caliber could only come about every once in a while.
Finally, Amanda’s gaze rested distastefully upon the intoxicated boy with the mandarin headphones. He sat in the corner, smiling and bobbing his head to the music only he could hear.
If he knew how ridiculous he looked, that boy would be bobbing his head to a different tune.
Then again, maybe he knew just how ridiculous he looked, but thought that it added some character to his persona. People could certainly be strange. Predictable, but strange.
As the subway pulled into its station, Amanda was approached by the disorderly homeless man. He drunkenly muttered a few words to her, his breath smelling of bad scotch, and asked her for her name. As the doors opened onto the station, Amanda hurriedly insisted that it was her stop and ran off the subway. The thought that a man of such filthy and despicable tendencies would approach a woman of her standing and social status was appalling.
Amanda arrived at work ten minutes later, covered in the distinct scent of Manhattan streets, and set to work. Her poise and charm persuaded each of her clients to switch from their old investment centers to InvestiCentral. She set to work on some clients’ paperwork, moved around some finances to appeal to the projected stock market trends, and finished her goal for today just in time for lunch. Some work friends invited her out to the local branch of a fast food chain, so she reluctantly accepted and went out with the three colleagues.
Sitting with the drab girls at their corner booth, Amanda couldn’t help but notice their many flaws. They considered themselves to be beautiful creatures, God’s gift to the people of Earth, really, but they were really rather boring. The plump girl ate her salad with far too much vigor; it looked as if she was attempting to inhale the thing, rather than eat it delicately, as a person should eat such a dish.
Amanda chuckled internally at her sparkling wit.
The arms of the girl across from Amanda hung limply at her sides as she placed her mouth upon the straw of her Diet Coke. Her paper-thin cheeks puckered as she noisily attempted to drain the remains of the soda from her icy glass.
Next to Amanda, the eccentric girl was blabbering on about some crisis with the cute guy at her yoga center. Her mouth moved a mile a minute, spraying spittle across anyone in the danger zone. The girl’s outlandish nature bothered Amanda more, perhaps, than any of the other girls’ glaring flaws. Her metallic stiletto pumps were paired with a skin-tight dress that stopped mid-thigh, and each time she dropped something, she stooped down to get it in what she thought was the most suggestive and attractive manner possible. Her gum smacked in her overly large mouth as she shoveled in her spaghetti while still attempting to carry on her long tangent about the yoga boy. She suddenly turned to Amanda, waiting for a response on some sort of supposedly jaw-dropping bomb she had just dropped.
“Well, if anything, that’s his fault,” Amanda said supportively.
Fueled by this dash of support, the flashy girl continued talking about the dull, insignificant details of her mundane life. Amanda f
found it surprisingly easy to carry on a conversation without listening at all. She only found it necessary to truly listen to a conversation if she was unable to predict what the person was going to say next, an instance which happened rarely. She pretended to listen intently to the girl’s dull story, interjecting in all the right places, while she mentally moved around the Henderson family’s finances and arranged a To-Do list for the afternoon.
After lunch, Amanda returned to the office and set to work on her To-Do list. She rearranged the Hendersons’ finances according to plan, went home, ate some home-cooked stir fry, and took a nice bubble bath. She alphabetized her cereal, so as to keep her mind active, and fell asleep promptly at 10:00, so as to get her recommended daily amount of sleep.

answers:

How about Flawless? Abnormal?

James asks…

Tell me what you think? Story/kinda a character overview?

I wrote this to be mostly like a character overview and it turned into a story a little bit. I’m probably going to change the formatting but please tell me what you think of it!

Parts of Jayne

Feet: pink toe-nails over pale purple dead skin cells. Peach toned skin, just as soft as a peach also (boys died to feel a peach that way). They suffocate in the ocean’s white sand, only her knobby little ankles can breathe, maybe a pink toe or two also.

Legs: too skinny, prickly with goose bumps, hairs like a juvenile porcupine (she shaved them just 3 days ago). Half way up on the right shin a small cut scabbed over and slightly picked at. Knees with no folded skin, no faces of an old man, they were bent slightly, swaying with the wind. Little thighs, with a bruise from unknown incidents lingered among the thousands of tiny goose bumps (boys just died to reach their hands up her leg).

Hips: covered by a wizened baby blue sundress, rimmed with lace, and black nylon fabric weaved in throughout the bottom. Under her sundress, there were little pink cotton bikini panties (boys just died to take them off) also rimmed with innocent white lace. Underneath the layers of clothing was a small butterfly tattoo, just under the edge of her panties, hidden from her parents. Her little butterfly lay on her smooth peachy toned skin, just next to her hip bone that jutted out like a mountain in the middle of the ocean.

Stomach: under the wrinkled blue sundress, just above her virgin hips a small belly button. Perfect, round indented into her soft smooth stomach. Not so smooth as her ribs extruding almost through her skin (boys just died to count the valleys and mountains), piercing her inner flesh, she never felt it; for then she could not breathe. Inside her delicate rib cage, lay her lungs moving up and down, catching her when she falls they inflate, deflate. She keeps breathing.

Chest: just above her smooth, almost too flat of stomach grew small hills of her breasts. Just under her breasts another black nylon fabric strip tied around her back in bunny ears like they teach you in preschool (boys just died to unravel her). Underneath and just above the black ribbon, a soft pink bra, lined with lace (she was not a promiscuous girl or a tease, she enjoyed lace) latched tightly all the way on the third hook.

Shoulders: They sit lazily atop her body, hung over her; she is a puppet. Her bones sink into her body, from the heap of dirt casually tossed onto them, giving them tasks no young girl should deal with, but she does. Tight with knots, (her father is a sailor) they mull around like lazy dogs on a hot afternoon, worthless and good for nothing sores. They are thin, wistful in a way. When she exhales you can see the bones poke through just below her neck. Her skin sunk like loose linen over her bones (boys just died to nuzzle their mouth in the creases of her shoulders). The straps of the little sundress sat listlessly on her shoulders; her right shoulder was slightly drooped down leading the strap to follow in pursuit.

Arms: hang loosely at her sides, loosely as in you could pull her away from her thinking and they would fall right out. She is a tragic girl. Thin little pencils, they were, etched with scars from various none purposeful moments, (sort of like an elementary boy bored with his day, chewing and gnawing at the lead based wooden writing utensil he holds in his dirty nailed fingers.) Off her arms proceed her fingers, little fingers with little nails (pink to match her toes), they were bent casually, not straight, not stiff like a board. In her right hand she held a small rock that had no intension. In her left hand, nothing (boys just died to hold it with much intention). They were quite clammy, possibly from the ocean breeze or from her deep intimate thinking with herself.

Neck: thin and narrow… lovely little neck. (Boys just died to kiss her neck all over). Often times she breathed from her throat, when she was sad or anxious. Her breaths were like cats panting in the summer heat, quick and concise. One could see her small little esophagus move up and down, like she was drinking water, she only drinks air.

Head: Round, but more of an oval, with strands of blonde hair woven in by her older sister, (boys just died to smell and weave their hands in that lovely mess). Wavy, a bit wet too. Wonderful highlights of gold and brunette, with streaks of platinum chopped heavily with seared scissors, radiated from the overcast sun. All of it tied back into a small little pony-tail. Strands hung down in her face, the strands that were too little to reach the back of her head. Positioned high, and slightly jutted forward, it never hung low.

Face: soft, with cheeks of raspberries. A subtle jaw line, (boys just died to caress her jaw line) leading up to little ears, they had no piercings, no diamonds trickling like rain off her. From the side, her profile, some may think she was very young possibl

answers:

First off, you have excellent description. I know exactly what she looks like.

But that’s just it – you don’t want your reader to know *exactly* how your character looks. And with this description, you’ve set up a lot of material for Jayne to be called a Mary Sue.

I just need to point out:

1. You’ve made every part of her irresistable to boys
2. Her only flaws are bruise, a cut on her leg and some purplish skin around her toes.
3. You describe too much useless information such as the color of her nails
4. From her side view, she doesn’t look her age.

Now, it’s not bad at all to have your character have Mary Sue traits. It’s like sugar. Too much is bad for you, too little is boring.

I don’t think this is the type of character description you should include in a book. A paragraph of this is too much. Try to describe things through action.

EXAMPLE: The gold framed glasses blended with her face as put them on. Tara could see the photo clearly now. She pulled the picture closer to her eyes as if to examine it like a detective. ‘Yes, this is Mike,’

In that, you got her glasses and the color of her hair! You can slip in description wherever you want. You *can* describe a lot of her features at once, but it drags on for the reader. And people like me get the impression of a Mary Sue.

Here’s something to help you know when/how to include description: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AnoH_XASqp7nMM647adHjDzty6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20100713153602AA817EA&show=7#profile-info-FTZIQKxEaa

Otherwise, you have GREAT writing skills. Keep up the descriptions; just don’t include too many useless facts. I think its fine on its own, but not something you’d want in a novel, no.

Hope that helps! :)

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