Haven't Done One of These in Awhile

I was on craigslist, looking for jobs when I came across this ad...

Sexy, Open minded, Latina, Middle Eastern or Black
Secretary
Sucessful businessman in search of a hot, open minded personal assistant
for a brand new home office your daily attire will be panties and socks, or
pantyhose, or panties and a tank top...etc. you must be a bit submissive, and
open minded. Latina, middle eastern or black preffered...white girls welcome to
apply. 18-40...hours are flexible...pay is high. send pic and phone number for
details and to set up your personal interview. pretty feet, nice round tits and
a tight ass are definite pluses!
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with
services or other commercial interests
Compensation: 1500 per week
PostingID: 670403933

That's like $78,000 a year if anybody's interested....

The Skin I'm In

• lots and lots of water, I drink that is.  Plus the MAC doesn't hurt a bit
• speaking of makeup, the handle on my makeup train case broke this morning and I'm really sad about it, I think I'm going to take it to the shoemaker since its leather and see if he can fix it.
• remember I used to do those post on things that every woman needs?  well I just thought of another one, a really good old school shoe maker.  They can take the calf of your boots in, or if they are really good make them a little bigger.  Stretch your too tight leather shoes (or do it yourself with some wooden shoe trees and some rubbing alcohol) fix the run down heel on your favorite shoes, replace a worn down sole, fix the leather strap on a makeup case, at least I hope so
• i actually had a really bad case of the chickenpox when I was in the 4th grade.  So bad that I missed the last month and a half of school.  I still have the dots all over including one on my right cheek and a couple on my nose.  They just dont show up in pictures for some reason.  Then again people usually think they're birthmarks...
• speaking of the chickenpox, did I ever mention that I have a half brother?  He's a real shit.  Anyway when I got the chickenpox, he was in the Marines and he came to see me when he was home on leave.  that would have been strange considering that we spent hardly any time together when I was a kid, but our dad had just passed away the year before, so he was trying to pretend that he's not an asshat.  Anywho, guess who gave the fucktard the chickenpox and guess who ended up in military quarantine for 2 months?
• and continuing on the theme of my shitwit brother, have I ever mentioned that I'm an aunt?  dont think so.  well anyway come to find out I'm an aunt again.  How did I find out?  My buppy cousin gets an email birth announcement from Shitwits (I really like that one, and it really fits my brother) wife, Shitwitta (shes an ass too), so she forwards it to my Mom, who checks her email like maybe 4 times a month (and that does not mean once a week) who mentions it to me last week.  The kid, a boy, was born on Valentines day.
• my home phone went out this weekend, actually all three lines in the house were acting wonky, so Mommy called Verizon and they said they would be here on Monday morning.  wait I should correct that, the first dumbass broad that answered the phone told Mommy that it must be a problem with one of our phones.  I said that was bullshit and told Mommy to call them back (after she made me check all the jacks - good thing the designers of this house were asses and there are only three of them, one on each floor) and THEN they said they would come on Monday.  And what a day Monday was...
• I'm knocked the fuck out, and I kinda hear Mommy's line ringing on Monday morning, but I rolled over and what do you know, it stops.  then my cell phone rings, it the verizon guy and he's outside.  oops!  So I throw on some sweat pants and a hoodie and answer the door.  Hello!  I was for a minute regretting my choice of attire when I realized that the sweats are kinda low rise and show off my flat belly very nicely and actually make me look like I have hips!  it didn't turn into anything but flirting, but that was my choice.  he called me once after he left to make sure that everything was ok, then he stopped by a little later to "make sure."
• so the verizon guy leaves and Mommy comes home and says, "huh, i thought that they were going to come and read the meter today." and right on cue the door bell rings.  I'm right there, so even though this is something that Mommy usually does, I answer the door.  First off, by this time Duke is pretty sick and tired of getting locked up everytime someone comes to the door, so he sticks his snooze in the door and follows me out into the vestibule.  Good thing I hadn't yet answered the front door.  So after a brief yet frenzied battle with the hairy beast I answer the door.  Dog hair everywhere and a tall young cutie here to read the meter!  Sheesh!  That boy better be happy Mommy was home cause I was seriously thinking about jumping the young man right there in the basement.
• My god daughter is going to be 13 on Thursday!  She wants a Sidekick and/or to go to Dave and Busters with a crew.  I'm all for the Sidekick - shes a good kid and she doesn't have a cell phone, but me and Cousin T had a long ass talk about the Dave and Busters thingamajig.
• I was in Filene's Basement shopping for MonkeyGirl's birthday and I saw the most adorable Ralph Lauren baby girl clothes.  I really was debating with myself if I should buy something for NewBabyGirl, SuperSlag's newest kid, but I decided against it.  She'll take it as were cool again and as always expect more.  It tears me up that I can't buy something for the kid without her Mom trying to hit me up for more.

Preach Angry 40 and Single, Preach...

If you take all of his views and put them in the perspective of a 30 year old single woman, you'd pretty much get how I feel...

RE: 40's and dating

Date: 2007-10-11, 11:29AM MDT

I am a man in my 40s and dating. I was married and against my wishes the marriage ended. I loved my wife deeply, she decided she no longer loved me and she wasn't "happy". So, now I date. I didn't ask to be in my 40s and single, but reality being what it is I live with it.

I have no plans to ever get married again. I might have a steady girlfriend if the occasion arises, but she'd have to be pretty damn spectacular for me to make that leap. I have had all my children, I am financially secure and have a plan for myself that is better done without a typical American woman's bullshit to goof it up. I don't hate women at all by the way, I just know what is worth my time and what isn't.

I date for the occasional bit of company and to occasionally have sex, that's about it. I don't need a woman in my life full time. I can cook and clean, etc, etc. If I wanted full time companionship, I'd get a dog. Dog's are much easier to deal with than women at this point in my life. Call me shallow, etc etc whatever, that's fine with me. I know me a helluva lot better than anyone else does.

I do have some rules for dating. Since I am not a horny, partying twenty something or a desparate to have kids thirty something these rules work for me. I think everyone ought to come up with what works for them, keeping the reality of their particular situation in mind.

My personal rules:

1. I never seriously date a woman who terminated her last relationship because she wasn't "happy". Happiness is an emotional response to external stimuli. To break the vow of "til' death do us part" over an emotional state that may or may not be another person's fault, is shallow and shows a lack of emotional maturity. It tells me that woman is too self absorbed to be a reliable partner in the future.

2. I don't date fat women. Sorry, all you "BBWs"; get a grip on reality. If you are walking around looking like you have a beer keg stuffed in your pants, you don't give a shit about yourself, so I really don't expect you to give a shit about me in the long run. Don't give me that crap about how happy you are with yourself, you're not and we both know it. If you and I had fallen in love twenty years ago, gotten married and had a family and you had put on the weight, I would still be with you, but we didn't and so I see no need to accommodate your lack of character and discipline.

3. I won't seriously consider dating a woman who has a lot of hangups about sex. Since I have had all my children, since I can cook and clean and make a damn good living for myself and my children, you bring nothing to the table I need in the traditional sense. Hell, most women can't or won't cook a decent meal anymore and are as a general rule clueless in regard to the domestic arts. If you have a lot of hangups about sex before we are monogamous, I pretty much see the writing on the wall after we have been together for a while. You might not like it, but sex is important to men, yes actually, it IS mostly about sex. Now that we are all well educated as to the dangers of unprotected sex, STDs and birth control, I don't see the problem. Your pussy is not the only one in the universe and it isn't plated with gold. If you won't have sex with a man, one of your slutty sisters around the corner will.

4. Feminists. I don't date women who are avowed feminists with a "you go girl" mentality. Sorry, but your little movement fucked things up in a major way. I think women ought to vote, receive equal pay for equal work etc. etc. I do have enough sense to recognize that whether by design or chance, men and women are different and since I think that form follows function there is a reason for our differences. I don't want to be around a woman who wants to prove to me she is as good as I am at "man" stuff. It is annoying. It makes you look stupid and insecure.

5. "Independent" women. I never date a woman who feels the need to tout her own independence. First, independent entities by definition do not want or need to be in any type of union with another entity. When the United States declared independence from Great Britain, we dissolved the ties that had connected us to the British. I myself am independent and feel no need to tell everyone about it. It is called being an adult. Being able to take care of yourself doesn't make you special, it makes you "grown folks". Second, if you are that independent, why are you looking for a relationship in the first place? Independence is the opposite of dependence and being able to depend on others is why we get into relationships of any kind in the first place.

6. Women who spend every weekend perched on a barstool. I don't date these over the hill party girls because as an adult male, I know why men go to bars and clubs and as a mature adult woman you ought to as well. If you do know and still sit there every weekend you are trying to be something you aren't (young, unless you are a drunk) and I have no desire to be with a woman who lives in a fantasy world. If you haven't figured out why men go to bars and clubs and you are sitting there hoping to meet prince charming, you are clueless and I like to think the women I date have a modicum of intelligence.

7. I don't date women who have their children full time. Might come across as a shitty attitude to have, but I see no need to be a full time father to someone else's children and a part time father to my own. This is a personal preference I developed after having discussions with my own children. Mine have been through enough already, I'm the Dad and feel I am doing what is best for my children, they were here first.

8. Anyone who is fanatical about much of anything. If you are religious fanatic, I too believe in God. I have a degree in Theology as a matter of fact, but as far as I can tell, God didn't assign any woman at anytime to be my moral gatekeeper. He did tell you to be "keepers at home", if you are so caught up in church work that you are making your family the second priority in your life you aren't following your own rule book. I digress, fanaticism of any kind is a psychological addiction and I prefer to spend my time with people who lead a well balanced life. Addiction of any kind is a turn off.

9. Overly materialistic. My preference. I grew up dirt poor and have by hard work gotten myself to a pretty good spot in life. If you have a desire and need to get the latest and greatest and keep up with the Jones family, you aren't for me. I see no need to potentially work myself into an early grave to keep you in shiny trinkets and new cars. I am pretty content with a pot of beans and a nice clean, comfortable house in a decent neighborhood and a vehicle that works and is safe. If $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ is what motivates you, I am not mad at you or knocking you for it, I am personally not interested. No, I am not "poor", it is about priorities.

There ya go. Don't know why I posted this. Saw the comments about people in their 40s dating and this is what came to mind. I have no real interest in getting into another permanent relationship. I am content to spend the rest of my life single, but that works for me.

For those disparaging the over 40 dating crowd, even 40 somethings get lonely at times, some more than others. Some of those people are there through no fault of their own. they were and are good men and women who had an ex get middle aged crazy and left a good man or woman behind to chase after something they thought they were missing. Maybe the other person was an abusive asshole or addict and the one who is single had to leave for any number of reasons. All sorts of reasons people over 40 are single. Keep breathing and you might find yourself there some day.

• Location: COS
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 446210922

260th Post!!!!

Not really that exciting, but I didn't know what else to title this post. And I haven't done one of these in a while. Plus Bossman's got me busier than Superhead at the Source Awards...

guy that flashed me on i-90
Dear Man who flashed me on I-90.

I was in the passenger side of my friends car, on a quiet saturday driving home from crossgates mall. I am usually driving, so i was taking this time as a passenger to take in the beauty that is I-90.

As i am innocently gazing out my window, i notice a large blue chevy i belive pick up truck 2 lanes over. Normally i would of not looked twice but something caught my eye.

You sir were waving wildly at me, thinking i might know you, i took my sunglasses off to get a better look at you.

Some movement again caught my eye, you were no longer waving at me, but fiddaling with your pants. This should of been a sign to turn away, but i was confused.

Thats when it happend. You some how managed to keep one foot on the gas, along with your right hand on the steering wheel. and in a matter of seconds were able to stand up with your whole front body facing me (which im still baffled how you managed to do this ans drive)

you then started pelvic thrusting your 'cash and prizes' in my direction, while laughing hysterically, like i just opend a can of peanuts, but a snake made out of springs popped out. This action looked much like any movie where you see a male stripper pelvic thrusting, but unlike its done in the movies usually with the saftey of boxer shorts, or tight black pants like the Chippendales wear. Not you sir, no no. You had the pants, and the boxers pulled down, and your t shirt pulled up a little. I even saw belly button.

(see picture examples)

This act lasted around 5, or 6 seconds, then you cowardly took the next exit to escape my face full of horror.

Im sure scareing me for life is hilarious. and im not exactly sure what the thrill was of flashing me on I-90. Im sure it wasnt to impress a friend, because you were alone. And you were not an old guy, im sure you could of had a girlfriend, or a wife, so flashing a random 21 year old girl on the highway is a little baffaling to me.

But this letter flasher guy, is not to express my anger twords you. Its to let you know, my friend that was driving is upset she missed this horrifying/hilarious act, and would like you to drive by us again, but this time on the driver side.

Thanks buddy.


(i probably spelled 10000 things wrong in here, im at work, im typing fast, i dont give a shit)

(ALSO my drawing of flasher guys 'cash and prizes' are of fruit, because again, im at work, and i cant draw penises on paint in the fear of beign fired)

• Location: i-90
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 452732709

It's the pictures that got me...

Ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha...

One night when I was a kid, this guy was outside in the street cussing somebody out. I'm not quite sure who cause all you could hear was this guy screaming "Asshole" "MotherFucker" "Shithead" and the like at the top of his lungs. Now I grew up on a family block, most of the adults had been raised on the block, and it didn't take long for somebodies Daddy to get offended and yell out the window, "Shut the fuck up asshole! This is a family block and we got kids!"

To: Guy Who Screamed Obscenities at the Ballet the Other Night:

---

Date: 2007-05-07, 11:59AM PDT


It was Don Quixote, a rather fun full-length ballet, nobody dies like in the dreary Giselle or Swan Lake.

Another fantastic performance by the SF Ballet. I know you enjoyed it. Our whole section knows you enjoyed it. Every time a dancer would perform a particularly impressive jump, or a series of 3+ pirouettes, you would say, "Whoa!" or "Jaysus!"

This, I didn't mind. As a former dancer and now a season-ticket holder of our City's fine company, I get a kick out of hearing others' excitement for an artform I hold dear. Much better than the guy next to me whose head started to fall like a kid in an 8th grade math class.

So, the curtain falls. The end. Applause.

Curtain comes up and the dancers begin to take their bows. You notice a few people standing up. Was it an ovation? NO! They were LEAVING! These people could not WAIT to get to their cars (they were obviously not MUNI riders, walkers or cab-hailers like most of us in the City)! They had no time for CLAPPING! They had to get out now!

It was then you yelled, in your beautiful gray-haired old crotchety man voice, "WILL YOU PEOPLE SIT DOWN AND LET THE *POLITE* PEOPLE SHOW THEIR APPRECIATION?!," slight pause, "YA ASSHOLES!"

Now, I have seen dozens of ballets in my relatively short lifetime of 25 years. Never, not once, have I encountered a fan of ballet quite like you. At the ballgame, sure, that kind of yelling is par for the course. At the ballgame we eat peanuts and leave the shells in piles at our feet.

Sir, this was THE BALLET.

And for your outburst directed at the people who think somewhere in their tiny brains that it is even remotely acceptable to get up and leave during the curtain call, remotely acceptable to not even clap for the world class artists who just performed a most difficult and worthwhile ballet for our enjoyment (artists whose salary is about that of a standard office receptionist), remotely acceptable to WALK OUT while the house lights are up and we can all (including the dancers) see...

Kind sir, for your outburst, screaming at these "assholes", I thank you from the bottom of my art-loving heart.

I've been wanting to say that for a long time.

And WOW! They sat their asses down, didn't they?! A few were even clapping.

You are the BEST.

Cordially,
Fellow Supporter of the Fine Arts in San Francisco

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 326175577

Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!

Cause I haven't done one of these in a while...

Yesterday was hell
Date: 2007-05-18, 7:44AM EDT

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathroom. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied

1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder in one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.

It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with the suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Next door I could hear fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth.... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficulty to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by a string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced to the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has manged to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests


PostingID: 333345372

Who Let the Dogs Out?!

You're not looking for them, but I found your two dogs.

---

Date: 2007-08-16, 10:19AM PDT


Sigh. No one is looking for these guys. And I see why. They hump everything in sight, try to dominate our old doggies, try to eat our cats and pee on everything and bark at everything. Neurotic, lick constantly. They know no commands, either in English or Spanish. They are aggressive and probably lived in a puppy mill. You dumped them, probably, and we picked them up before they were killed by traffic. Unneutered, no tags, under 1 year old small males. I hate you, person who dumped these dogs. There are no lost ads on phone poles, no lost ad on Craig's list, no lost ad in the paper. We put signs up all over, put a found notice in at the local pounds and if you were looking for these filthy little ragamuffins, you would have found them. We are afraid to take them to the pound because under stress, your dogs were snappy and horribly afraid and dogs are judged by temperment for adoption placement. They would not have passed that test. However.....

They are, under their filth, mats and horrible habits, adorable. They have learned "Quiet," "Come," "Sit." They have stopped being so neurotic and we have broken most of their bad habits in just a few days. They are smart and sweet and are looking for guidance and WANT to be good little dogs. One is a purebred little white and buff guy with an underbite, the other is a brown little dog that looks almost exactly like a miniture version of a larger breed dog. They know each other and were obviously (by the same bad habits) raised (poorly) together. We will get them neutered, train them and get them into a good, loving home with people who use the brains God gave them.

If these are your dogs, come on by, I'd like to kick your ass.

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 398534694

I hate puppy mills!

For the Dogs...

Note to the dogs

---

Date: 2007-08-16, 1:43PM CDT


Dear Dogs of Mine,

It seems that lately things have gotten a smidge slack around here. I feel it is time to remind you of the rules that heretofore we have operated under. You are both cute dogs, but your continued cuteness in no way negates our previous agreement. Let me remind you of a few details of this agreement.

1. In exchange for room and board, you are to guard the kingdom. That would be guarding the kingdom from any and all bad guys, robbers, serial killers, etc. Feel free to bark maniacally at any of those that should appear in the yard. Guarding the kingdom does NOT include barking maniacally at bunnies, squirrels, cows, sheep and invisible things that only you can see, especially between the hours of 5am (when I stumble out of bed to let you out) and 8am (when I actually have to be out of bed to get to work).
(And let me take a moment here to remind you that the pizza guy is a potential bad guy. He is not your friend. Just because he comes bearing food does not allow him free and easy access to the kingdom. He is potentially way more dangerous than the bunnies that you threaten to tear limb from limb.)

2. All of the stuff that lives in the toy basket is yours. Everything else is mine. Yours includes squeaky balls, random bones, partially unstuffed stuffed animals and chew ropes. Mine includes any and all shoes on the floor (especially the expensive leather ones), underwear that missed the hamper, bras, socks, dishtowels, the remote, the cell phone, the legs of my grandmother's antique chair and the vacuum. Did I mention shoes? ALL the shoes are mine. They come in pairs, not quads, for a reason.

3. The cat gets to sleep on the bed. You do not. You each weigh 50 pounds. The cat weighs 12. You sleep smack dab in the middle of the bed with all four feet spread out covering approximately 12 square feet apiece. The cat sleeps in a neat little ball covering about 2 square feet. The cat does not bring fleas into the house. You do. You, dogs, will never be allowed to sleep on the bed. Quit sneaking up when you think I'm not looking. Your 50 pounds of dogginess negates your stealth superpowers. I know you are up there!!

4. Speaking of the cat- when he hunkers down into that little mound, lays his ears back, squints his eyes and growls way back in his chest, HE IS NOT A HAPPY KITTY. Leave him alone. He does not want to play with you. What he wants to do is poke your eyes out and shread the skin around your face. He can do that, you know. Five of his 6 ends are really sharp and pointy. He has previously shown very little restraint. Clearly he enjoys smacking you upside the head with a paw full of claws. Do not aggrevate him. When he takes your head off after you have cornered him, I will let him. You have been forewarned.

5. The cat is mean. He will lead you down a path to destruction. He likes to tear around the house winding you up. He does this knowingly and intentionally. When you chase him, I will only yell at you for careening into walls and furniture. He knows this. Quit falling for it.

6. If you find something in the garbage can, assume that I intend for it to be there. Platic tampon shells are not chew toys. Don't eat them.

7. Also not for doggy consumption- anything you find in the litter box. This is why you no longer get to kiss me.

8. You are allowed to sleep on the furniture. You are not allowed to eat the furniture.

9. Yes, I have to leave every day to go to work. No, you cannot go with me. That's why there are two of you, so you can entertain each other. The cat gets to stay in the house. You both have to stay outside while I'm gone. The cat does not chew things up. You do. Quit whining about it. Your porch is air-conditioned. It's just like inside the house minus the sofa. If you'd quit chewing up dog beds, it would be just like inside the house. You have made your own proverbial bed by destroying two very expensive dog cushions.

10. I have opposable thumbs. This is why I get to be in charge. I can open cans, doors, and bags of treats. I am the only one in the house that can operate the hose sprayer. I'm also the only one with a driver's license and a car. I win. Being cute is no match for opposable thumbs.

While I in no way wish to suppress your rightful dogginess, I feel that these very simple guidelines will allow us to continue to co-exist in peaceful harmony. Please know though, that should you choose to continue in willful violation of these rules, I WILL PUT THE CAT IN CHARGE. He has just been itching for a position in management.

Much thanks,
The Human

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 398608788

I feel your pain Human, I feel your pain. When I first got Duke he used to be obsessed with my dirty panties. Nothing makes a better impression than bringing someone home and finding dirty panties all over the floor!

For Afro!

CL Lingo: A self-help guide for the newbies

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Date: 2007-08-16, 8:41PM EDT


I am not nearly the veteran as some of the people here, but I am proud to say that I have gotten a few friends hooked. Now we can all bask in the addiction that is Craig’s.

Initially I had some problems. CL is a different culture, a different world, a community rather, and in order to decrease frustration and understand that it is not what you see in the normal world, here are some basic explanations, pointers and tips when browsing CL.

These are tips for all personal forums, as I browse them all due to curiosity, do not judge me, because I know you do it too. Also, feel free to add to the list!

Acronyms (everyone’s favorite shortcut and means of deception for newcomers)

-NSA – no strings attached, basically means, lets just fuck
-HWP- height/weight proportion, really means I do not work out, I’m out of shape, but not morbidly obese, there is no tire around the belly, took me forever to figure that out. I never understood it either, it's just a clever way to say you are not a beach whale...yet
-DDF – drug disease free, this is a standard acronym with no real meaning, as probably more than 50% of the people that put it are lying
-FWB – friends with benefits, not really, see NSA
-JO – jerk off, I just learned that today, crazy shit huh
-BBW – big beautiful women, big black women, I think it’s interchangeable, I don’t know

Real meanings (please, not bashing anyone here, I’m just hip to the lingo now, and I applaud you people for your creativity)

-Fit/athletic – no muscles definition to speak of, this really means average, and not obese (there are muscles on here, but they are few and far between)
-Average – this really means fat, because over 60% of the country is overweight, so that makes overweight people the ‘norm’ therefore, they are average
-Thick but in the right places – again, this means overweight
-Thick but I hold it well – I really don’t get this. I suppose it means they wear clothes that fit them and nothing hangs over
-Curvy – again…you see the trend right
-Cute – this means I will not make you scream when you see my face
-Attractive - this is a step above cute

Favorite sayings/insults:

-Asshat
-Fucktard
-Flame away
-Poppers – (I have no clue what this/these are, and I do not think I want to know)
-Smooth bottom - (bear with me...a common saying in the M4M, it means male takes it in the ass)
-Top - another saying in the m4m section, it means a man gives it in the ass

Other helpful tips:

-Please be careful if you browse M4M, it can be quite traumatizing. DO NOT click on the ads with pictures unless you have a strong gut and like that sort of thing. Also, a lot of the ads are written in code, I didn't understand a damn thing when I first clicked on it. Fascinating, but scary.
-You will run into the same CL’ers over and over, there are not as many people on here as you may think, be careful, take precautions, have more than one email address
-When posting in the personals, be sure to put what you DON’T want, but it doesn’t matter anyways, cause some ass is going to break the rules and ‘take a chance’
-If you prefer the a different race, be prepared for some hate mail, or whiney bastards that have too much time on their hands and aren’t getting any loving, so their joy in life comes from trashing you cause you like to think outside the box
-Most of the women in W4W are not real lesbians, they are bi, bi-curious, or freaky
-The men in M4M will scare you, I cannot stress this enough. 99% of the people there are looking for sex only, makes me feel sorry for the gay males that are seeking real relationships, they most likely won’t find them here
-Never declare anything to a 100% certainty, there will always be someone to dispute, argue your opinion, and then call you an idiot for having it
-“Best of” is funny as hell and is what CL should really be about
-There are a lot of old, married, unhappy people on CL, that probably makes up the majority of posters, it’s sad
-CL is not for the weak of heart or mind. Think of the posters as you would a bitchy irritating mother-in-law. They always have something negative to say, they always challenge your thoughts, and you are never good enough
-Be prepared to become more negative, racist, sexist, close minded, pessimistic, irritable, cranky, as you continue to read CL and post. In the beginning, you will be nice, genuine, and have a real desire to offer good sound solid advice. You will care about your fellow reader and want to help them with your lousy 2 cents. The more you read others posts and get replies to your own, the more bitter and hateful your posts will become. You will find yourself calling a person a fucking idiotic loser with a 3rd grade education that should commit suicide if they do not know the molecular structure of the chemicals in pesticide, because as you read CL, you will know everything, they will know nothing
-This is an anonymous board, just because someone says they are white, black, male, female, human, 24, 30, fit, athletic, God, a hot chic, a porn star, rich…does not mean that any of this is true, it probably isn’t. (Don’t let a posted picture throw you off either)
-Do not believe a word you read on here, for the most part, use your best judgment, while you still have it. The longer you read this, the less good judgment you will possess
-Use correct grammar and spelling, I recommend typing in word, or getting foxfire with spell check before you send. If you do not, you will get a new hole for it
-If you repeatedly see the same posts of an attractive guy or girl with a one sentence tag line, it probably isn’t real, do not respond, or you will get spammed
-You will long to have a missed connection written about yourself, the odds that someone that sees you in the street reads CL as well, is pretty small
-You will get addicted, it’s inevitable. You may think you can break the addiction, but it’s very very hard. You will want to know what these crazy fucks in DC are saying everyday. You will begin to post yourself, you will try to come up with creative, quirky, witty posts that amuse people (shut up, this isn’t one of them), you may even post in the personals ad to see what kind of feedback you get. In any case, you will get hooked. Just be glad you weren’t on CL the day it went out for a whole fucking night. I know my fellow CL’ers were shitting themselves obsessively checking the computer, cursing the tech’s and wandering around not knowing what to do with their nights. Some were even forced to spend time with the family they neglect due to the time they spend on this site. Lucky for me, I am single and without child, so I decided to masturbate
-You are more vile, cruel and inhumane than you think, it just takes a little CL time to bring it out
-Try not to get mad about the BS you read here, you will grow a thick skin after awhile, so don’t let the fools ruin your experience

I know I left out a lot, but this is already a long ass post, I completely violated the rule with this one (not something looked upon lightly by the CL community). Oh! Let me add it…

-Try to keep your posts as short as possible, with as much information as you can get in. Use spaces, that breaks up the length of your post

There! Feel free to add, my fellow crack addicts…and to the newcomers, happy reading, and welcome to the family!

• Location: NoVA/DC/MD
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 398884133

Just One Night...

so usually I hate when people proposition you and then you turn them down and they say shit like, "Well it's your loss" So when I read the first line of this ad, I thought to myself, who the hell does this guy think he is. But I kept reading and by the end I was thinking, who the hell is this guy and what the fuck does he teach. Any guesses?

Just One Night! - m4w - 38

Date: 2007-08-16, 5:53PM EDT


I will be in Manhattan next Thursday, the 23rd for ONE NIGHT ONLY.

I am in town to teach a class on Friday for a Broadway actress and her posse.

What type of class, you ask? If you get it, I suppose drinks will be on me!

Hint: I teach a class for girls only. I teach girls how to do the one thing that EVERY boy can do – NO girl can do – but EVERY girl wished she could do.

Got it? Drop me a note with your guess…your picture gets mine…and if you will be available next Thursday. I am staying on 51st. BTW…I am a relatively attractive, athletic, with dark hair and eyes.

Bonus points if you always wished you could…
PostingID: 398767428

In The Strictly Platonic Section...

Mariage for convenience - w4m

---

Date: 2007-08-16, 4:09PM EDT


I would like to meet a man for a short term marriage of convenience. I am 26, European, pretty, never married, and just looking for a way to stay in this country.

I am looking for:
1) US citizen man(25-35 years)
2) Dependency free (drugs, alcohol, gambling)
3) Tax debt free
4) NO criminal record
5) Willing to marry me to help me to get my green card in exchange for financial assistance. I will not interfere in your personal life.

Please contact me if you're interested.
Thank you .

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 398679653

http://newyork.craigslist.org/que/stp/398679653.html

Um, call me Doubting Thomas, but if she's rich pretty with good credit, she shouldn't have to place an ad, yes no?

This is Tiki's Fault...

We met over a steaming pile of turds. . .

---

Date: 2007-07-27, 3:26PM EDT

Me- I was picking up my dog's shit, following the law, minding my own business.

You- old woman who looked like a broomstick with a bad weave- who said to me mid-scoop "you shouldn't let your dog do that (poop), he should do it over there (points to middle of street)"

I just wanted to say I should've gotten your phone number, but I was just too angry to ask. You see, I felt a real connection between us. The audacity of an old bag to yell at my (4 pound puppy nonetheless) dog for shitting, having the shit picked up and then properly thrown away, overwhelmed me with rage. And I like to surround myself with petty, trite people that fill me with rage. My shrink says it's 'constructive.'

So how about this, give me your number and the next time my dog needs to take a shit I'll drop you a line, come over, and let him shit in your wrinkled crusty mouth.

then coffee?

• Location: 17th St.
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 383398809

Damn You to Hell Craig!

and your stoopid little list too.

I've got a problem, an obsession really. And I said to myself, "Tigg (one of my many other nicknames, cause you aren't really talking to yourself if you call yourself by another name) you know you should try and stay away from Craigslist today. I think we are developing an unhealthy obsession." And Tigg said (cause she's a bit of a rationalizer) "Wellll, I guess I can see you point. But couldn't we just go look at furniture, if we stay away from the Best of, and the Rants and Raves Section we should be ok." And Trouble (who's always up for a bit of, well, Trouble) said, "Eh, what could it hurt." (which is usually followed by, "What the hell was I thinking!?") But then Leggs Diamond chimed in (she's a bit of a slut and has been known to pick strange men up on the internet) "But dahlinks, you never know what delicious specimens of male virility could be lurking on Craigslist. What's a quick poke, I mean peek, going to hurt?" (Leggs also has terrible judgement.) So I took myself over to Craig's place with all intentions of looking at furniture for sale and making fun of the losers (aka seeing if there is anyone interesting) in the Casual Encounters section. But then Tiki popped up (she's sooooo childish sometimes) and all I remember is thinking "oooooooo, prettttttty" then "yummy, horny men" and by the time Trouble was back in control I was here...

Take me in the weeds

Date: 2007-08-14, 10:19PM PDT


My dearest Casual Encounter,

We met on Craigslist. You were the one with the sensual, alluring title - "Ram your cock inside me and spurt your hot load!". I knew you were the one for me by the way you typed in ALL CAPS and listed enough conditions to make a contact attorney proud. Your policies of "FACE PICT *ONLY*! NO COCK SHOTS!" and "NASTY, OLD PERVERTS NEED NOT APPLY!" really resonated with me. And you chose me. of the 357 responses you received, you chose mine. I like to think it was my charm, wit, and carefully crafted prose. That or the Abercrombie and Fitch model I chose for "my" picture.

We both were in relationships, but we needed something more. We needed each other, if only for that one afternoon. So I took off work early. Wasn't feeling well; going home to rest. You just left a note on the counter - "out shopping". Why wouldn't he believe that?

I lust you, but I don't trust you. I can't let you know where I live. You don't care, but he could be home any minute. And I certainly wouldn't want to be around for that. Motels are so cliché. (OK, really we're cheap.) Besides, wouldn't it be totally hot to do it outside, totally exposed to the whole world? I'd never done such a thing before. Neither had you.

So we met at the park at 4. The sun was just starting to go down. The light though the trees was sublime. You in your easy-access summer dress. The shine of your hair. The look in your eye. I wanted you. I needed you. I simply had to have you.

But where? Had to be close. No time to wander around when sex is imminent. Somewhere out of the way. Others can't see. Up that hill. In the trees. Underbrush all around. I pull it aside for you as we make our slow progress trystward. You do the same for me. Then an opening. Nestled into a copse. Surrounded by scrub brush. Perfect.

The blanket goes down and 3 seconds later your tongue is in my mouth. So warm. So soft. So wet. I can no longer think. All the blood is in my cock. I reach my hand down your pants. It's like my toiletry kit fresh out of Miami baggage claim - a hot, wet, sticky mess. You moan and I'm inspired to keep going. First one, then two fingers. Thumb on your clit. It's not long be you're there. I keep kissing you the whole time, but really I'm staring at your face. At the look of pure pleasure. Then you go silent. Your body tenses and arches and I can feel the intense contractions inside you.

You reach for me and I'm ready, clothes off in 6 seconds. After witnessing your performance, I'm already close. Really close. You stroke me. You lick me, and less than a minute later I black out for the longest 5 seconds of my life.

Back into focus, and my gaze lands upon your face. We exchange an awkward look, like we're back in high school and aren't sure what to make of all this. You pull your hand back looking with concern at the mess on it. I pull out a Kleenex and push it at you while I use another to deftly wipe off my stomach.

Nothing left to say, so I get up and start putting on my clothes. You pick up the blanket. I make one last effort on the way back to the cars; I gently brush the cruft out of the back of your hair. You turn half-way toward me and give me a tight-lipped smirk.

That was yesterday. Today I am itchy. And swollen. I have splotchy rashes on my body But my cock is the worst. It's bright red, raw, and about 50% bigger than normal. Now I know the secret of those spammers who claim to increase your girth - poison oak.

I'm sorry, Casual Encounter girl. Sorry if I got poison oak on you like you did to me. Or worse, in you. I'd like to say it was worth it, but I can't. Not now. Maybe in a few days this will be more funny than painful. I hope so. But I do know that next time, we're splitting the cost of the motel.

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 397398685

from your pizza delivery girl

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Date: 2007-06-06, 12:18PM PDT


So after about 2 years of being a pizza delivery girl, I’m fed up!

1. First off, lets put in a simple fact: Pizza delivery is considered a hazardous job by the US government. They are third most likely to be murdered on the job, right after police officers and taxi drivers. Myself being a 22 year old female, that risk is approximately 5 times greater. Although I’m not in the US, Canada has plenty of latent axe-wielding maniacs, disgruntled computer geeks that haven’t stepped out of their house in months, crazy cat ladies, pig men, and other potentially dangerous creatures. That brings me to my next point…

2. If I drive 10 km out of town to your trailer park, and you open the door in a sleeveless plaid shirt, and then ask me to come in, don’t get offended if I don’t. Don’t get offended if I take off running either. You might be a decent guy, but I’ve seen enough cliché axe murderer movies to know better.

3. Chances are, though, if you’re the creep in the plaid shirt living in the trailer park, I will probably like you a lot more than that family in the mansion in the most affluent part of town. Because, you, scary redneck friend, are probably going to tip me close to 30% of the order. Whereas foreign mansion family will end up giving me a 20 on a $19.80 order and generously tell me to keep the change. Ever wonder how some people can afford to live in a 6500 sq ft house with a swimming pool? They don’t tip.

4. That brings us to tipping. To the lady that asked me if I was in school, and upon my affirmative reply gave me a quarter, and said “I know how hard it is to be in school and work so hard” – Thanks!! You were pretty young too, and of course living in one of those mansions. I thought you’d know better. To the guy who told me I was really cute for a pizza delivery driver and left me no tip – thanks!! My cuteness won’t pay for nursing school. To the Korean broad that waited for me to count out the nickels and dimes and then got mad because I don’t carry pennies and thus couldn’t give exact change( 3 more cants), who then called my boss and told him she was “lipped off” ( think she meant ripped off) – Fuck you!

5. If you tell me you can’t afford to tip when I get there, you can’t afford delivery.

6. If you can’t afford delivery charges, you can’t afford delivery. To that guy who called the pizza place and asked us to deliver 2 towns over (we’re in Coquitlam, he was in maple ridge) and asked us to take off the delivery charge too because he can’t afford gas for even himself: Fuck you, you selfish prick. Clearly you know the price of gas these days, and you’re probably smart enough to know that the petroleum pixies don’t come and fill my tank every night, so don’t tell me it’s my loss when I refuse to deliver to you.

7. Lets put down some blatant honesty: I’m not hot. I can maybe pull off cute on a good day, so I don’t know why I suddenly transform into a goddess when I come to your door with food. Clearly you’ve been watching way too many pornos.

8. #7 goes double for rainy days. Apparently runny makeup and flat hair mixed with pizza are major turn for the lazy Dom asses of Coquitlam. No I don’t need a towel. No I will not come in to dry off. I can’t give you my number. What? No, really, I’m not into that.

9. Don’t get mad at me if we made a mistake on your pizza. Chances are you knew we were going to make a mistake if you check the pizza at the front door. Also, most of the high school kids I work with don’t have a clue as to what a quadrant is… “I want pineapple in quadrants 1 and 2, and ham in quadrants 1 and 4 and half of quadrant 3 with pepperoni” Gimme a fucking break!! . And who the hell orders pizza in quadrants anyways?

10. Don’t get mad at me if your pizza is 45 minutes late. I was trapped on some guy’s front porch while a bear was sniffing around my car that now permanently smells like a pizza. Yes, a bear. And don’t act surprised, we live in the middle of fucking nowhere. And don’t leave me no tip me because I’m “a liar”. If I wanted to swing by a friend’s house on my way to your place, I’d say I was caught in traffic, or something more believable than a fucking bear!

11. Speaking of traffic… The neighborhood where I work is predominantly foreign (I wont say what nationality but you can probably guess where bad drivers that happen to be non-tippers come from). So if I’m late because a hummer that has “environmental consultants” written on it (ah, how I love cliché’s) runs a red and almost kills me, pardon fucking me if I have to pull over for a few minutes to collect myself, thus making your pizza 4 minutes later than the promised time.


Okay, I’m off to work now. Be nice to me!!!

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 346308204

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/van/346308204.html

To all my clients....from your friendly online porn store

---

Date: 2007-06-11, 1:56AM EDT


I have run an online adult goodies store for about 3 years now. To say the least, I have run into some interesting characters in my 3 years of online smut-pandering. I am about to end my run of naughty knick-knacks and I'd just like to give a wee shout-out to the people who struck me as the most interesting, funny, annoying and downright memorable. Here goes nothing....

1. Angry, self-righteous female customer : You placed your order Sunday night. By Monday morning, you were emailing me IN GIANT RED ANGRY LETTERS that you had not received an email telling you that your order had shipped. I politely emailed you back within minutes stating that orders take about 4 business days to ship out (remember that little button you had to click on that said you read and understood ALL our policies BEFORE you were able to place your order? Well, that little gem was in there!). You emailed me again less than 45 minutes later stating in GIANT BOLD RED FONTS that you will report my website to the BBB if I didn't send your order out immediately...hmm, the only way I know to get something right away is to get on the bus/subway/in a cab, high tail it to the adult store of your choice and purchase said items in person. After your 5th email that day screaming/demanding/threatening, to ship your items or else, I finally told you to take a flying leap off a short bridge and I refunded your money ( all $17.99 of it!). The customer is NOT always right..often times she is a total bitch!

2. Weirdo who always bought the same dildo, then cancelled his order 15 minutes later: To respond to your query: NO I don't know if this is a 'good cock'..Even if I bought this particular item for myself, I certainly wouldn't tell a complete stranger my opinion of it! After you fifth purchase of this item in less than a month, I finally banned your sorry ass from buying anything at my store again. Every time i have to refund your money, I lose money myself! My credit card processor take 5% that I will never see again! You were a man buying a particularly LARGE (John Holmes) dildo...this doesn't mean that you are gay or anything and frankly I don't care on way or the other..but from the desperate, seeking emails you sent me and the number of times you asked for a refund, I am guessing that you couldn't come to grips with whatever angst you were feeling at the times you thought 10 inches of Ultra-Skin would feel REALLY good in your ass.

3. Woman who bought about $650 worth of stuff at Xmas, then emails me 6 months later claiming that she only got about half of her order: Sorry, but most normal people would let me know within a couple weeks of getting a tracking number that most of your order didn't show up. Oh, BTW, you had the WHOLE THING sent to one address, so please don't lie to me and tell me that over half of the people 'you had it shipped to' didn't get their items...how freaking stupid do you think I am? I am the only one running this company, so when you tell me to 'ask my shipping department what happened", I don't have to walk far to make that query.

4. Strange customers who keep 'reviewing' the John Holmes cock(that is ONE popular item)....I don't need you posting the same review 500 times! Holy crap, I get it! You LIKE this dick.....

5. People who have AOL or Yahoo accounts...WE STATE on our front page and BEFORE you place the order that you MUST add us to your address book on your email account to get your confirming email. For some reason we often can't get through to you. PLEASE don't email us threatening to call the BBB because you didn't get an email confirming your purchase of the Badunkadunk Booty "Do-it-in-the-Butt" RealSkin fake vagina/ass combo. We WANT to get that email to you! Trust me, you don't want to have to explain to the BBB or your credit card company why you are complaining/doing a charge-back for a $225 item that an elephant could easily have relations with.

6. Creepy guy that offered to exchange 'web services' for adult products: You wanted the Kobe Tai Ultra Realistic Ass and Pussy in exchange for helping me 'get my website out there."...Well, I'm guessing it's already out there since I get about $3000 worth of business a month- not to mention YOU found it so I can't be too far gone in cyber space that no one can hear me scream. I would REALLY feel a little weird setting up a relationship with you based on the knowledge that our first 'exchange' of funds was a phony pussy. It just would creep me out every time I talked to you to know that you were banging that fake vagina. Ick!!!

• Location: everywhere
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 349423094
http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/349423094.html

Nada Mas!

There are times when I'm a work where all I have to do is be available should the boss man need me. That means lots of 15-20 minute intervals when I'm just waiting for him to bellow my name - and whoa be tide if I'm not there to answer the little man. So I spend alot of time surfing the net, reading you guyses blogs, windows shopping (the s is intentional), gossip mongering and reading shit on craigslist. So I found a lot of funny shit today and I said I was going to stop but I cant! OUT SATAN! OUT!

I Puked at the MegaChurch

---

Date: 2007-06-04, 4:12PM MDT

yesterdya I was out for a bike ride and I'm cruising and digging the grass and trees and farms and cows and horses and sayin hi to other people riding bikes and being cool with cars and liking the deep rumble of motorcycles as they blow by me.

I ride into this small town that will remain nameless to protect the small townies. I stop at this place to buy some stuff and they are like BRATS OUT BACK! so I'm like BRATS? And they are like FREE! so I'm out back yacking about the cows and farms with other lycra people stuffing pork meat encased in pork intestine into our holes. With mustard. Score! So I cram one down and think, why not and I crunch another tangy hot juicy pork thing down my hole.

Then, I'm off! Full of pork. Ready for more cows and horse manure smells. I even have me a tail wind as I leave this town and hit these hills. Short hills, that step up steeply. Like steps. One after another. I'm high on free meat so I punch it and get a good groove until about 3/4 of the way up when I feel not-so-good. I slow down and finish the last pitch to the top breathing hard and feeling funky.

I pull off the road into this parking lot which turns out to be the lot for a megachurch. And its sunday and they've been harvesting souls and the harvesting is over and the harvested souls are all meandering out to their jesus mobiles.


And I puke two free greasy pork meat brats with mustard onto their lot. Hoark! Plop! Drool runs from my lips to the sun warmed ashpalt as I let go with a dry heave. Damn! I suddenly feel fine after bulimatizing that load of pig chunks.

I look up at the jesus people who are looking at me and I yell, OUT SATAN! OUT!. Then I scoot outta that megachurch lot.

so there.

PostingID: 344894297

OMG, WTF with a side of Wholely Hell!!

Proof positive that you can find your soul mate on craigslist. I heart you angry train riding lady, truly I do. Call me!

NYC SUBWAY RANT: JESUS CHRIST!

---

Date: 2007-08-06, 2:33PM EDT


OK, I have been riding the subway every day for a lot of years. When you start riding, it doesn't take a much time to see all sorts of characters. At first, these people sightings might be somewhat shocking or even funny, but you begin to grow used to the pants less, toothless, yelling, drunk, cracked out, stinky, sweaty, and perverted characters that ride the subway. They really don't bother you much; in fact I welcome a little cameo from these guys once in a while. After all, it is part of our city culture.

That said I have compiled a list – a spilling of my mental Rolodex of the people I share the subway with on a daily basis. These are the monsters I can't get used to and won't accept. They annoy the ever-loving piss out of me. Thing is, I never see these hooligans all at once, but I do see one at least once a day.

- Lady that fans herself with a piece of paper in the train car with broken a/c: Look lady, the air is hot. Not just your air but everyone's air. We are all breathing in each other's nasty hot breath and germs and here you go creating a gust of hot wind. This does not cool you down and it is especially fucking annoying when the car happens to be stuck that day, all is silent and we are forced to listen to the flip flopping of your paper up and down as you breath in and out deeply. So fucking ridiculous.

- Chinese guy with yellow nails and a bag of chicken feet: Dude, I'm not even kidding, you are nasty as hell. No one likes a set of long man-nails near them EVER and here you are wrapping those daggers around the center subway pole nearly slicing innocent bystanders as the plastic bag of chicken feet sways near your legs. Oh yes, and what are you going to do with those chicken feet anyway? Take advantage of us poor unknowing customers by grinding them up to use as filler in the next batch of HAPPY FAMILY from the local Jade Garden? I mean Jesus.

- Asshole with the sunglasses on: OK, there is no sunshine on the subway. This is not the L train pal. You sit there with your black as night shades on clearly staring at people for as long as you please. That's just wrong. Your probably staring at the lady's tits who is standing above you or even undressing some poor middle schooler with your eyes. Not only are you taking ample amounts of time to fanaticize about unsuspecting riders, but you look like an idiot doing it. This is especially worse when you also chew gum with an open mouth like a friggin' cow. You are drawing attention to yourself now and I can tell by the direction of your neck muscles that you were staring at me! Lady on the 8:30 F train Monday morning - you know who you are!

- Jerk that leans over you to look at the subway map: OK, your ball sac is 2 inches from my face. You don't care do you? Even though you've traumatized me and I lean back in my seat to shy far far away from your jewels, you lean in closer to get a better look at where to transfer from the E to the D train! Yuk man, have some manners. This is worse when you are sleeping with your head in your hands and wake to find a pants slacks covered man bulge in your grill.

- Ghostfarter: OK, I know it may be hard to hold it, but if you had diarrhea this morning of course your farts are going to reek! I mean the train is crowded with little ventilation yet you subject us to the rotten remnants of your ass-meal. This is inconsiderate and nasty! Hey if one clipped out, OK - it's happened to the best of us but you try to move around a bit and circulate. Don’t just stand there and poof out stinker after stinker while you read your paper! I'm talking about the well-dressed guy in the suit or the one hot chic on the train, it was probably you!

- Asshole with the book bag: If your bag more than 3 inches off of your back for god's sakes put it in front of you toward the floor! This is common knowledge!! I can't tell you how many times some retard with a book bag extending 3 feet tall off his back has decided to turn around and talk to his friend or bend down to tie his shoe and clock me one without knowing the difference. Yeah, that was me who bumped you on purpose. I hate you!

- Lady that hugs the pole on a crowded train: Are you fucking blind!?? There are other people riding the train with you jerk but yet you proceed to make sweet love to the silver pole. Can we maybe hold on for a second TOO so we don't break and ankle??!!! Then, when we ask you to move you PRETEND you don't speak English. Real nice. Why don't you walk to work with a broomstick and hug that you shitbag.

- Nail Clipping Fool: This means you regular business guy with no regard or oblivious Asian lady. Jesus Christ, does anyone have manners?? DO NOT CLIP YOUR NAILS ON THE SUBWAY! I should be making signs for god's sakes! Not only are we subjected to the resonating sound of your clipping but your nail shrapnel is flying every which way and hitting men, women and children. This is by far the most disgusting thing ever. I'd like to take a free shot at your gut while fellow train riders hold you up.

• Location: NYC
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 390658591

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/390658591.html

Stay out of my head!

My obsession with the best of craigslist continues...

asshole kids.

Date: 2007-07-20, 2:01PM EDT


Kids-
I dont have kids. My friends dont have kids. My experience with little kids is fairly limited. However, i have fairly extensive experience with junior high and high school kids. And y'know what? They're spoiled, arrogant little assholes.

When I see some kid at the restaurant that wont take off his headphones or put away his PSP to eat dinner, I want to slap his parents in the face. When I watch Nanny 911 or Supernanny and I hear some beanbag housewife whining that she cant control her 3 year old, I want to kick my television set to the floor. When I hear some little crotchfruit at Meijers throwing a tantrum because he cant have a video game/candy bar/toy, I want to go up to him and scream at him as loudly as i possibly can, until my throat is raw and bleeding and i'm screaming a fine red mist all over this little shit's face.

What the fuck ever happened to discipline? NO MEANS NO. It doesnt even have to involve spankings, I was spanked maybe 3 times when I was a kid. Those 3 times were enough. YOU'RE the parent, YOU'RE the adult, YOU ARE IN CONTROL. I'm sorry, but if you're 30 and cant control a 3 year old you belong in a home with someone spooning applesauce into your stupid piehole. If you dont want to take the time to be a parent, dont have kids. It IS a choice, if abortion is against your beliefs then give the baby up to one of the thousands of couples who cant have kids but desperatly want them. (unless their gay, because we all know gay people cant raise babies. two people who love eachother are only allowed children if the peepees dont match.)

Parenting takes time and effort, I'm pretty sure on that one, and by time and effort I do NOT mean plunking them down in front of the television for 5 hours. It does not mean buying a 4 year old an X-BOX 360 so "he wont get bored." HE'S 4. A four year old can play with a box and some lawn chairs for hours on end, and be perfectly happy. However, when the kid is stacking the lawnchairs on the box and then trying to stand on top of it and falls, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SUE THE LAWN CHAIR COMPANY. You were supposed to be watching him, hell, maybe helping him build his fort, not sitting on your ass in the other room talking on the phone, painting your nails, and watching Dr. Phil. You are not entitled to monetary damages because you're an idiot. I wish I was a judge, I'd be like Judge Judy except with more profanity.

People, the world has been dumbed down enough. Stop freaking out and whining about television/music/games/movies and fucking it up for adults. You dont like the vulgar music your kids listen to? I agree, it's a little disturbing to have a 10 year old walking around singing "my humps" or "crazy bitch", so maybe dont buy them the cd's? I like the cd's and I'm 26 years old, but because of your bitching certain stores wont carry the cds I might enjoy.

You dont like violent video games? Quit waiting in line for 234231 hours the day after Thanksgiving to buy them x-box nine billion.

Does your 8 year old really need a shirt that says TEASE and itty bitty shorts that say JUICY on the butt? You want to paint her a big red sandwich board that says "PEDOPHILES PLEASE LOOK AT ME" while you're at it?

Exercise a little discipline and maybe some personal self-control. You dont have to buy them everything they ask for. Or, if some analogies might help you out here, quit digging your own grave, quit making the bed that you will sleep in, quit shooting yourself in the foot. Do not buy a video game and then freak out and attempt to sue video game companies because it "made" your kid attempt to torch your neighbors cat. Do some research. Wait, that might take up some of your Days of our Lives programming time, maybe try it at night, after you shoot your husband down for sex because you've been too tired "watching the kids" all day. He can sneak off to his laptop to look at porn, you can sit in the living room and actually try making yourself a better parent. It's so much easier to do that without those pesky kids around.

Fuck you and your whiny, spoiled, irritating, pussy kids.
(and before you email me saying YOU'RE NOT A MOTHER SO YOU DONT KNOW, realize that I dont care. Whether or not I'm a mother has nothing to do with how crappy you are as a parent. When I see your child, it's in public, where they should be on their best behavior. If this is how they act in public, good fucking luck with them at home.)

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 378284430

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/det/378284430.html

Can I get an "Amen"?

Ok, so not only did this put me in a much better mood than the last post (asshat!) but it's sooo true. Crotchfruit - HA!

Damn!!

To My Mother-in-law

---

Date: 2007-06-26, 3:15PM CDT


Dear Mother-in-law,

You have gotten on my last nerve. Seriously, cut the fucking apron strings already. Stop "dropping by' 5-7 fucking times a week. Call first. If your 'baby' doesn't answer, don't come by, just to see if we're home and not answering. I mean, who fucking does that? And if he doesn't answer, don't call my phone looking for him, then my son's cell phone, then leave some fucking smart ass message on the answering machine that you have called every number we have and NO ONE is answering!!! And then you start all over with calling him, then me,etc...within 3 minutes of leaving that fucking message!! And quit just walking into my house when you get there. Ever heard of knocking? I swear, one of these days, we're not going to see you walking up the driveway and have enough time to scramble and get our clothes back on and you are going to catch your son's big dick in my mouth. How am I supposed to look at you across the table on holidays knowing you saw me doing that? Oh and i KNOW his old loser girlfriends before me didn't mind your incessant calling, dropping by and butting in--you've told me enough times-- but his wife DOES!! We have jobs and kids and lives that don't revolve around you and you trying to stick your nose into every aspect of our lives -from what movie you think is 'appropriate" for your 14 year old grandkid to watch, to where we go out at on the weekends. Nothing and I mean NOTHING we do is any of your fucking business. If I hear you say one more fucking time "OH! I don't think that's right!!", regarding some decision we've made when discipling our kids, I swear i will take my frying pan and crack it over your fucking ignorant head. Did I ask for your opinion?? Nope, sure didn't and I never will. Oh and p.s....Do you see MY mother 'stopping by' at my house every fucking day of the week? No? That's right, we weren't raised that way. We were taught to CALL first, to see if the person is even interested in having company. I would never dream of stopping at someone's house at 10:00 at night to 'visit' for an hour, when I know my precious son and his wife both get up at 4am for work, 5 days a week. Totally unacceptable behavior. You have really gotten on my last fucking nerve and I really can't stand you. When I hear my husband mention your name I fucking cringe. We could have had a decent relationship, but you have messed all that up with your continuous fucking PRESENCE!! Not to mention the fact that all you do is bitch and complain about how we live our lives and raise our kids. Nobody fucking asked you. And NO I am NOT cooking something for Sunday dinner, so quit dropping by at dinner time to see for yourself if I really didn't cook something for your precious baby. I DIDN'T. I HAVE A FUCKING LIFE. I have a 4 year old and a 14 year old and a job in another city that I commute to more than 40 hours a week. I'm not cooking every night and every fucking Sunday for your precious baby. Cook it your damn self and invite us over for a change. And also, quit TAKING A SHIT at my house every single time you stop by. That grosses me out completely. You know damn well you live exactly three minutes down the road (which is a big part of the problem), so go shit at your own house, nasty! I've just had enough.

Love,

...I am SO over you!!!....

• Location: fucksville
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PostingID: 360879599

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nor/360879599.html

Why don't you tell her how you really feel?

I'm don't think I'm a Trixie...

...but I think I love this guy!

Sheeeet, I don't even know what the hell a Trixie is! Or a Fuckwit Chad...

If you're a Trixie, or ever been called one, your Bad Boy is Waiting

---

Date: 2007-06-29, 4:13PM CDT


What can I say? I suddenly feel like dating a nice, old fashioned, Chicago trixie.

I'm talking about a clear-skinned, midwestern, size three, C-cup beauty with a thing for Amstel Light and nice straight teeth. She has a bachelors in something innocuous and irons her shirts before work.

She likes pretty shoes and designer jeans. She lives in a condo and never makes eye contact with anyone during those loathsome trips on the El (well, when she's not driving her Acura or Volkswagon to DSW). She's a shameless flirt at rooftop barbecues and owns at least or two pieces of jewelry from Tiffany's.

And so what? I'm tired of dating tattooed chicks with a thing for ironic clothes who work at shitty bars and spend Tuesday night bowling. I'm sick of hearing about the latest indy band and meeting their dopey, stoned friends who also happen to be in lame indy bands.

Fuck that. Fuck the ironic t-shirts and crappy underwear. I'm after a sweet, innocent trixie who's heart isn't black and who was more than $13.79 in her checking account. She's got some stellar lingerie and a healthy "slut in the bedroom" mentality that nobody would ever suspect at her work.

I'm all the fuck-up our relationship will ever need. I'm the bad boy. The artist. The eternal, hopeless intellect with the drinking hobby who inevitably stays out too late on weekdays. I'm the one who'll forget to call, but will make for it up by bringing you a wonderfully creative assortment of flowers that I scavenged from the ally behind the local florist.

I could be a fuck-wit chad but I disdain that type. You could date a fuckwit chad but you're sick and tired of passionless evenings, his boring friends, the same old shit, the lack of creativity, and his boring fat ass.

You'll like me because I have my masters degree and a creative career, yet I prefer cheap beer. I come from an affluent town on the east coast but I prefer my cruddy apartment in a not-so-exciting part of Chicago. I'm athletic, in great shape and well built, but I think softball teams are for pussies.

I write. I paint. I can fix your fucked-up shower door. I can change your oil. I can kill your spiders. But I'll never wear one of those goddamn striped shirts or wear a backwards baseball hat. I won't discuss Cubs stats. I won't watch most TV. And I've never seen any of the sequels to American Pie. I might get a second tattoo or get certified in welding just for fun. My folks are still married. My sisters have kids and husbands and live in the suburbs. My background probably isn't much different from yours.

But I've always chosen the "fuck you" Lincoln Park, Fuck you Starbucks, fuck you Crate and Barrel point of view, and decidedly spent my time at dive bars, with rough people, seeking the sureal experiences, living beneath my means, getting dirt beneath my fingernails, dating people I shouldn't, and living life as it should be–fully examined–but I've never given you trixies a chance.

Until now. So allow me to introduce myself.

I want to be the bad boy. I want you to be the good girl. Your girlfriends with their crappy boyfriends will secretly envy you. Their crappy boyfriends will secretly fear me. Our chemistry will sizzle as our opposite stations ignite a firestorm of passion, roaringly good sex, thoroughly interesting conversation, endless possibilities, long nights out or ass-kicking Scrabble games, and the potential for something long, smart and hot.

I'm white, Irish, live in Wicker Park, 5'10, great blue eyes, naturally straight teeth, with a penchant for writing too much.

So there you go. Your smart, well-educated, terminally dissatisfied, open-minded, rough around the edges, good hearted guy is waiting for you...and you're his classic, midwestern, upper-middle class beauty who's ready to take a chance. Send a picture. Or don't. I'm not sure how it works with you trixies.

But I can't wait to find out.

• Location: Wicker Park
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 363233143

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/chi/363233143.html

Because I'm all the fuck-up our relationship will ever need!