[On a personal note, your master of web-making ceremonies finds this one of the funnier documents he has read. Just remember that one of her nicknames was/is "Entropy", and oh, and this was written about 7 years ago.] 


What does one say about oneself on cyberspace? Entropy is forever finding herself stupidly (she always later pays) under the direction of an extraordinary creature named Ali - apparently a friend - who seized on this question with great fervour and elatedly pointed out that Entropy could always use the ad she'd come up with five years previously. This was at a time when Entropy had been complaining about the manifold defects appearing to attach to her then current significant other. When told to trade him in for a superior model, Entropy sighed and mildly asked why on earth Ali thought she could do any better? (All things being relative) Gentle, lovable, laughing unmarried sex maniacs grew on trees? Ali was, at the time, much struck by the force of this but soon brightened - as is her wont (the eternal optimist) and suggested an ad. Now Entropy is not stupid - Entropy knew instantly all this meant was that Ali looked forward to a hugely wonderful and entertaining time sifting through any respondents' replies. However, Entropy found the idea amusing and whilst the ad never made the papers, had herself a hugely wonderful time and entertaining time drafting it.

Anyone curious to know anything more of Entropy is directed to the ad. Entropy occasionally dabbles in verse. All her friends regret this but none of them so far have been able to do anything to curtail this distressing tendency.



40 year old woman, living in O'Connor, - seeks expressions of interest from any males (absolutely male) silly enough to answer this ad for whatever it is that decent, respectable men and women of verve, enterprise and imagination do with one another.

What can I say about her? She's five foot five and a half (tall, not deep) and for those of you who are hung up on minor detail, she is usually roughly 36-26-36. (Don't get excited. Most of the first 36 accrues around her back.) She is also, to her dismay, skinnier than this sounds. Imagine a racehorse if you will, (thoroughbred of course) - the critical mass is well to the centre, the fetlocks are fine... But she was really sick with very bad flu a few weeks ago, and given that she has taken with great dedication to consuming three lamingtons and six chocolate Moves a day, who knows? She may quickly come to resemble Mama Cass. Thus interested readers probably need to be flexible in terms of their preferences - with enough flesh on them to insulate them from her hip bones at the moment, and sufficient strength to withstand any future crushing advance.

She is you might consider handicapped with the perhaps rather daunting baggage of two daughters, aged 10 and 6, but they do disappear every other weekend and she can afford babysitters on occasion in between. Still, the fact is they're the idols of her heart and anyone who isn't prepared to pay lip-service to their charms shouldn't bother to read on. It is probably worth pointing out that they're both incorrigible flirts (got it from their father) so if your self-esteem needs a boost - they'd provide it. They're indisputably spoilt, and endearingly courteous about it.

In terms of looks, she's probably about average. ie. Some days she studiously avoids all mirrors. But then again she can look surprisingly good, depending on her mood (and the lighting...) She has blue eyes. They don't work. This one has been known to bump into lampposts and apologise. She's also deaf in her right ear - something to do with a soft stapes - so you could get away with an awful lot if the mood took you. Oh yes, anyone who is programmed to the notion that erotic is blonde need not answer this ad.

She is a woman of limited means - pathetic in fact - because she once read somewhere that one should, occasionally treat oneself. She was much taken with this idea and has been doing so devotedly ever since - bugger the occasionally. She has the usual 10% deposit in real estate, but no money in the bank that would still be there by the end of the month. Also a drawerful of beautiful knickers, a rather impressive library, and a clapped out old banger. (Don't be bitchy - that's her car she's referring to, not her chassis.) Be that as it may, avaricious types - this one's probably not for you.

She didn't spend all this money on an ad just to blow it by listing her faults (in fact she doesn't believe she has any)

But she probably ought to mention that she's extravagant. However, she's not mercenary and her propensity to spend is equalled by her fervent commitment to funding this distressing tendency herself. She has never been declared bankrupt and frugal readers should not be deterred from making contact. She is equally committed to diversity, and will gaze on your propensity not to consume with awe, amazement and not a little envy of your swelling bank accounts. (To which, nota bene, she would never consider herself entitled - not ever. By the same token, note that you would never get your signature anywhere near her title deeds.) The fact remains that she could never come at a mean man - been there, done that - so if that's you, forget it.

She is fastidious, showers, plucks and shaves daily and wouldn't be seen dead in a grubby bra. She manipulates herself into the most extraordinary contortions most days trying to stave off the inevitable degradations that time seeks to impose on the body beautiful, and she has always performed her pelvic floor exercises with dedicated zeal. She in fact read somewhere that to do these while waiting for the traffic lights to go green was highly recommended. It is not. These exercises can be hugely diverting and every time she did it, it caused traffic havoc. (Yes, she's given that one away.)

However, the sad truth is that she conforms to what most realists would expect of someone who's 40, not 30, and moreover one who's birthed and suckled two leeches. She tries not to get depressed about this and doesn't need the point driven home. Thus, she isn't prepared to spend any time at all looking over her shoulder. So potentially interested tenderers who think they might on occasion be tempted to gaze over it at some baby nubile with skin like petals and silicone knockers up around her throat shouldn't bother to answer this ad.

Overall, however, she isn't that bad either, (independent witnesses were asked to corroborate and weren't game not to anyway) and whilst she isn't looking for superman, she considers that if she's prepared to make an effort, so can everyone else. In other words, she couldn't come at a notable paunch. (Suspect waistlines are one thing - belt overhang is something else again.) :-)

She also has one other significant idiosyncracy. She can't take to excessively hairy men. She knows it's not their fault - hopes there are simply masses of women around who'd take one look at their overgrowth and think they'd died and gone to heaven. But she isn't one of them - she isn't an ape - she prefers to stick to her own species. Sorry.

What else? She can cook, but does so with little enthusiasm. Her evening meals invariably end up as burnt offerings because she had her nose buried in a book whilst waiting for the spuds to cook. Her saucepans are a sorry sight. She is, however, an elegant and sophisticated hostess if she can ever be bothered (she usually can't). Her boeuf en croute and has yet to be surpassed: matched, maybe, but never outclassed. Her lasagna has been pronounced to die for.

Why did she include that paragraph? She obviously has rocks in her head. Anyone who thinks it relevant need not answer this ad. Similarly, anyone who thinks she might even remotely resemble his mother, forget it. Don't even think about it.

Interests? She must have some. Yes, books. Spends most of her free time with her nose buried in one. She will lend you hers with love and pleasure but note that, like elephants, this one never forgets. She has a mental inventory going back twenty years of all the people who didn't return a book. When her past dissolute life comes back to wreak its vengeance and the medicos tell her sadly that, sorry, yes, it's the big C and it's terminal, she's going to go straight out and buy an AK 47 and she's going to take out all those dishonourable bastards with her - pop! pop!

Television? Forget it - addicts stop reading this ad. Music - especially Verdi, Elgar, Beethoven 2nd movements, Bruchner, Nina Simone and clarinet concertos. Randy Newman, Bruce Springstein, Tom Waits, Joan Armatrading, Pavarotti and Renata Tebaldi. African. Anyone whose soul wouldn't vibrate to the Freedom Song of the ANC probably would be better off not answering this ad.

Similarly anyone who thinks all poor people are poor because they're a lazy bunch of good-for-nothing bastards shouldn't even think about it either. You wouldn't last a minute.

But politically she is hard to encapsulate. Suffice it to say that Bill Hartley turns her stomach and tis her considered opinion that Ian Sinclair and all/any American fundamentalists should never have been allowed to vacate the womb. Her political heroes are Paul Keating, Robert Kennedy, Abe Lincoln and, a poor runner up, Jefferson - because his speeches make her cry. Anyone who could work out that combination would go straight to the top of the shortlist!

She is happiest socialising very occasionally (note the occasionally - tis critical) with a few good friends, going bush, or being by the ocean when it's deserted but for a man and his dog. When her twat finally drops off, this is probably where she'll end up - in a shack, feeding sugar to the ants and remonstrating with the seagulls; having vigorous arguments with no one at all about the deep and meaningful ontological questions: was Pinter a spoof, or merely profound? Why not smile at a crocodile?

Her idea of heaven is being between the sheets with a soulmate, doing delicious things and waxing romantic about it. Thus basic types, with a tendency to call a spade a shovel, need not apply. At this point, it is probably appropriate to remind readers that, whilst at the outset she mentioned verve and imagination, she also alluded to respectability. Whilst she never had aspirations to being a missionary, neither is she depraved, so anyone who thinks she should be into any of the more exotica non-erotica - such as S & M to put it bluntly - would find her a bitter disappointment, and shouldn't bother to read on. Similar response applies to anyone whose primary interest in her knickers would be to borrow them.

She loves poker - and will beat you every time and empty your wallet with great gusto and no remorse whatsoever. Only good losers (or better cheats) should take this one on.

She is loyal, faithful, generous, usually docile. [:-)] Likes to laugh. If you were witty, she'd simply love you. She is also impulsive, but is trying to curb this tendency because it has been known to incur horrendous opportunity costs. She is housetrained. So should be anyone thinking of answering this ad. BTW She positively demands that a man should close the door when he needs to sit and put the seat back when he doesn't.

So, unattached men of Canberra (or immediate environs) if you are also loyal, faithful, generous; if you are warm, but not sloppy; intelligent, but not arrogant; erudite but not inclined to pontificate; if you have a sense of humour, a penchant for the droll; if you are gentle, not depraved or domineering; if you are not into mothers, astrology, whole earth cookery, astral travel, naturopathy - in short, if you are normal, easy-going and of a sweet disposition - don't be bashful. This is your chance. Pick up your pen. Plumbers, electricians and particularly motor mechanics please note that you would be received with especial favour. She is a very good knitter and would happily provide stunning jumpers in exchange for grease and oil changes. (On the strict understanding that you paid for the wool and she the oil. This one is not stupid!)

Not only does she have all her equipment in her attic, she is also free from any repulsive viral conditions. Doctor's certificate supplied with no resentment whatsoever in exchange for similar and a mutual agreement that condoms are for the birds - simply disgusting. What more could you ask for? Come on, give it a go...