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Yesterday, I asked Sexist readers for the worst pick-up lines you’ve ever heard, and boy did you deliver. Your would-be suitors have tried everything from “I’m Tony. I have a dildo this big [holds hands an improbable distance apart] that vibrates in 17 different directions, and when you’re done, you can light your cigarette with it” to “You know, I worked in the Carter Administration.”

At stake: A copy of Julie Klausner‘s book, “I Don’t Care About Your Band: What I Learned from Indie Rockers, Trust Funders, Pornographers, Felons, Faux-Sensitive Hipsters, and Other Guys I’ve Dated.” The worst of the worst, after the jump.

RUNNER-UP: From commenter groggette:

“Just so you know, I’m divorced now.”

From the guy who harrassed me for a year or so in college, starting with his wife calling me accusing me of sleeping with him after a group lunch he and I were both at (were I repeatedly mentioned my boyfriend, because I was gettingthat vibe off the guy), moving up to love poetry in emails, and peaking when he evidently got the hint from me and started sniffing my roommate’s hair during a class they had together. That line was the first time he actually admitted to being married. Oh and he also stole a mutual friends phone one time to get my new number after I got a new one. Gee I wonder why jackass.

THIRD PLACE: From commenter Gnatalby:

I was at a wine shop picking out wines for my birthday dinner, and the man working at the store was ignoring all his other customers in favor of me, even though I told him I was just looking.

Eventually he picked up a bottle and said: “This wine is like a woman . . . it needs to breathe.”

Points for accuracy!

SECOND PLACE: From commenter Jennifer:

I was seated at a bar with my friend when a friendly, older gentleman started a conversation with us. My friend ordered a vodka cranberry, which prompted our pursuer to coo, “I like that you drink cranberry juice; it’s good for your prostate.”

1) She doesn’t have a prostate.

2) Did he get that from Reader’s Digest?

FIRST PLACE: The winning slot goes to attorney Mandy, who has fielded three highly bizarre pick-up attempts from her incarcerated clients:

* A client (I’m a lawyer) wrote a letter because he had sent me a giant Scooby Doo valentine’s day card that year and I hadn’t responded. Because it was weird. And he was a client. And he was in prison. In the letter, he scolded me for not responding to the Scooby card, then gave me this mind-blower:

“we are two threads, woven in a tapestry in ways that even we cannot comprehend.”

He ended with hoping that Scooby Doo was watching over me and taking care of me. Scooby got thrown in the trash bin that day.

* This inmate (I only represent inmates) was in court and we were finishing up his case, which means my representation of him, and our relationship in that regard, were ending. He had been trying to look down my shirt the entire day (in court!) and then asked, “so, if I stab somene, will you be my lawyer?”

* Had just finished my representation and it was a good resolution for the client. He wrote me (1) calling me his “future wife,” (2) telling me how his women enver have to work, but he takes care of them so they can get their hair and nails done and always look good, (3) suggested I get a P.O. box under an assumed name so we could write freely, (4) told me how he was being kept up at night by “mischivious” thoughts about me, (5) how he liked to think about me while rubbing himself down with lotion after his shower, and (6) said that he would pay me back for how well his case turned out by being chained up as a slave in my basement.

Mandy will get a copy of Klausner’s book; I’ll throw in a lovely City Paper t-shirt for our the three runners-up. Thanks for playing!

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