Bad Bar Lines and "Bodice Rippers"

[SoNotHer]

A friend recently forwarded one of the funniest things I've read in some time: The Evil Librarian Supervillian's dissection of "21 of the most ridiculous romance novels ever." An excerpt and link to the article are below.

So I'm wondering what you remember as a) the worst romance you (or an anonymous "friend") ever read or b) the worst pickup line/s you've ever heard. Looking forward to what you write. ;-)

http://evillibrariansupervillain.wor...e-novels-ever/

"This is a classic of the terrible smut genre. Magnus Ericsson and his ten children by various wenches...have accidentally time travelled from their Viking village into modern-day Hollywood. Magnus immediately falls for a winemaker named Angela and they hunker down in some bed furs for some good ol’ viking ploughing."

[Elijah]

My face is leaving in ten minutes, be on it.

[deb_U_taunt]

Absolute worst.

"Wanna come over to my house to play checkers? I will jump you and you can jump me?"

[Greyson]

Eternal Pleasure

Even if Nina Bangs is her real name, there’s just no excuse. Get a pen name.

Eleven Gods of the Night are incarnated for the first time in 65 million years, summoned to protect humanity from an all-encompassing evil that is coming in 2012, at the end of the Mayan calendar. While currently incarnated as deadly, handsome men, they have the ability to assume their prior forms—those of gigantic dinosaurs. One of them, Ty Endeka, develops a powerful attraction to his taxi driver, Kelly Maloy, with whom he must fight the forces of evil–and of desire. Save a Brontesaurus. Ride these guys.

__________________________________________________ ______________


This is my personal fave. My girlfriend and I cracked up, "Nina Bangs." Of course the fight between evil and desire resonated with me. I just got to laugh about some of ths stuff, sometimes.

[*Anya*]

"If your left leg was Thanksgiving and your right was Christmas, would you mind if I visited you between the holidays?"

[SoNotHer]

Y'all are making me laugh :-).... So here's a couple for you:

"Why don't you sit on my lap?... we can talk about the first thing that pops up."

"That shirt is very becoming on you. If I was that shirt I'd be comming on you too."

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

[*Anya*]

1. "Hey pretty thing, are you looking for a job?", "No". "Well, I'd like to have you on my staff anyway!"

2. "Hey, if I jumped on your back, would you beat me off?"

And my personal favorite...

3. "I'm going to have sex with you tonight, you might as well be there!"

Bada Bing!!

[clay]

Way back in early...ahemmmm...70's..when I first came out...I read some book...thought it would educate me...so I would be so suave when I met a lady. So...anyway, I read the book (don't remember name) and geared up for my first foray into the world of lesbians and bars. Well I seated myself at the bar...got a beverage, and was perusing the ladies all around me. I spotted one that caught my eye...proceeded to do the "recommended gestures" and such..she just kept looking at me, smiling every so often..and I am like "what the heck" am I doing something wrong? I sat and contemplated what to do or not do...when she came over and sat down beside me. I introduced myself, ordered her a beverage. I smoked then, so when I took a cigarette out and went to light it, SHE picked up my lighter, and I held the said ciggie to my mouth..and waited..waited..and I looked at her..she stared at me..and said Hold your hand like this..I did..and she used her index finger to scratch inside my cupped hand..I am like..WTH? Finally after, I think ten eons or so..she said darling, I want to go home and fuck with you...don't you know when a lady scratches the inside of your palm like that, what she wants? I by now, was fifteen shades of crimson and am sure steam was coming out of my young and naive ears....I was so dumbstruck...and BTW...my "gesture" I read about and held as gospel? Tug your left earlobe and smile with a wink at the lady you want...I still laugh so hard at myself..to this day...talk about naivete'...lol PS I have never, ever used a "pickup" line for a lady. It is my Southern culture...and I just do not like them, and will NOT use them...it is just who I am...my killer blue eyes work just fine..and my dimpled smile...<wink>

[SoNotHer]

That's quite a story, ClayBaby :-)

Here are a couple more jewels....


Do you know what'd look good on you? Me.

(At the office copy machine) "Reproducing eh?" "Can I help?"

I'm new in town. Could you give me directions to your apartment?

Are you free tonight or will it cost me?

[*Anya*]

I went out with a male psychologist one time BCOAL (before coming out as a lesbian). We were having dinner and he said to me:

"I can tell by the way you are sitting with your pelvis tilted towards me that you want to have sex with me".

Had to laugh.

More Bad Lines:

1. "Was that love at first sight or should I walk by again?"

2. "Damn I need a broom!" "Why?" "Because I'm about to sweep you off your feet."

3. "Do you wash your pants with Windex?" "Why?" Because I can see myself in them."

[Quintease]

Originally Posted by Anya/Georgia

I went out with a male psychologist one time BCOAL (before coming out as a lesbian). We were having dinner and he said to me:

"I can tell by the way you are sitting with your pelvis tilted towards me that you want to have sex with me".

Serious?

*laughing*

[*Anya*]

Originally Posted by Quintease

Serious?

*laughing*

Yes, seriously and sadly true

It was a first and last date. He did not understand why either. Another mental health professional out in the world (I can say this b/c I work in the field).

[SoNotHer]

I think I want to see another thread on lines/actions that brought a date to a quick close as well as a thread on the pulp and bad movies we've read/seen (because that's what we could find), but here are a few more of the best of the worst:

“Guy: ‘Do you have any Italian in you?’ Me: ‘Nooo.’ Guy: ‘Want some?’”

“Save water. Shower with me.”

“If you jingle my bells, I’ll promise you a white Christmas.”

and

“Hey, I hear your ankles are having a party. You want to invite your pants down?”

[JAGG]

Ok this really happened to me. Hahaha this real drunk and equally as scary looking woman tells me. " I'm not staring at you, I'm blind in my right eye!

[macele]

i had been working very hard to get her to like me. i say, do i turn you on just a little a bit? she says, oh yeah. i could just slide right off this chair. ... as they say, she may have been out of my league lol.

i like silly sweet pick up lines. but not really to those i don't know. i have a friend that i will randomly say to ... do you sleep on your stomach? can i? ... makes her smile lol.

mathematics makes great lines: i'd love to find the slope of your curve.

[*Anya*]

Great thread! Makes me laugh outloud, especially since most of us have had so many bad lines used on us!

Carry on!

[dixie]

Originally Posted by SoNotHer

“Guy: ‘Do you have any Italian in you?’ Me: ‘Nooo.’ Guy: ‘Want some?’”

Oh my gosh I HATE this line! lol Swap Portuguese for Italian and you would have my ex who attempted to use that line at LEAST once every couple weeks. She was big on the cheesy stuff. Used to make me wanna bang my head against the wall...lol

[SoNotHer]

That is a big LMAO, Dixie Lady. :-) Some of these are pretty amazingly awful.

I need to find some pulp and bodice ripper excerpts as well...

[Dominique]

Originally Posted by claybabytwo

..and said Hold your hand like this..I did..and she used her index finger to scratch inside my cupped hand..I am like..WTH? Finally after, I think ten eons or so..she said darling, I want to go home and fuck with you...don't you know when a lady scratches the inside of your palm like that, what she wants? killer blue eyes work just fine..and my dimpled smile...<wink>

OK, What did the palm scratch mean? I vaguely remember that....

[*Anya*]

Example of a finalist entry:

The Short, Happy Life of Frances’ Comb
by Scott Stavrou

Frances’ comb was an old comb and he used it alone. He had not combed his hair for eighty-four days and to hunt for hair was getting harder all the time. When he had been younger, in the days before he got older, the hair had been as plentiful as the fish in the Gulf Stream. The comb used to be just a small part of his fine arsenal of hair care products. Before the comb had proved its solitary worth he had used it in tandem with the sleek Remington small-caliber blow dryer and a fine vent brush made by the Italians that practically forced the hair into submission. If you were lucky enough to have had strong hair and a powerful arsenal of truly excellent hair care products, you used them all and even took them with you for the aficionado of grooming knows that hair care is a moveable feast, and if you were lucky enough to have had brave hair as a young man, then it stayed with you forever. Sometimes.
The hair line, Frances noted, could also be a moveable feast, one that of late had been retreating back away from his forehead even faster than the Italians retreated from the Austrians. Ah, they were fine chaps, those Italians, even in retreat. Frances thought about the Italians while he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror late that morning in the hours that came just before the afternoon and after the night. His reflection stared back at him. Main thing a reflection did. Stared right back at you. He noticed that it was the same reflection that had stared back at him last night from the clean, well-lighted windows of Harry’s Bar & American Grill.
“Damn insolent reflection,” Frances said aloud. The reflection mouthed the words with him but made no sound.
“Damn insolent silent reflection,” he said.
His freshly washed hair stood on end, having barely survived the morning attack of the strong, relentless Shower Massage jet-spray. Certain of the finer strands swayed like the shorter grasses of the Serengeti. There were bright shiny patches of skin showing through the fine strands of hair just as if they had been mowed down by a stampeding herd of wildebeest.
Only the hair hadn’t been ravaged by wildebeest, not quite, really. Rather.
“Male pattern baldness,” Frances thought aloud, even though there was no one to hear him other than his reflection and his now useless comb.
“They say it is the fault of the mother. Damn insolent mother.”
Many things had been her fault, like the playing of the cello. But it was better not to think about that now. Now was the time for the running of the comb through the hair and not to think about the retreating hairline or the Italians or even the one he called Mother. Even though the comb was his only remaining weapon, it was a good, clean comb with strong lines and well-made tines.
Picking up his comb he made the first pass at the hair, going in boldly and strongly in the manner of Belmonte moving in for a kill after the picador had finished his work. Certain strands of the hair gave themselves fully to the attack and ended up captured in the strong, true tines of the comb. Frances knew that there was nothing to be done for those imprisoned behind the enemy tines of the comb. Being caught was the same as death, worse, really, in a way, because then you had to clean the comb and you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, the way you do when you know that your hair is done for and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. There was the hair club for men, but there was no glory in that and you weren’t really fooling anyone, not even your reflection.
So you did the only thing a man could do, you used the comb to arrange the hair to cover as much of the scalp as possible, but gracefully.
And you knew that truly, like the earth and like living in Paris, the hairline did move.