Best of Craigslist

Best of Craigslist http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best postings from craigslist.org, selected by readers en-us Copyright 2009, craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best of Craigslist Collection 2009-07-20T10:59:56-05:00 2 daily Coffin http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1279291878.html Guaranteed to keep your Goth hide translucent white during these hot and bright summer days, this hand-made coffin is just right for the petit Vampire or Vampette. If you are just under 5 feet tall (or can shape-shift to something smaller) with a 29-inch wing span, you will feel cozy and safe sleeping away the pesky daylight hours with this tasteful but unassuming box tucked away in your lair. Your minions can keep your chamber mobile with these fine handles made of Transylvanian hemp and the tucked and buttoned red padded lining will have you snoring until sun down. The hand-painted, one-of-a-kind, whimsical take on a Coptic cross is certain not to offend any version of Goth, vamp or even warm-blood who might have the privilege of actually seeing your private chamber. It’s hard to let this beautiful treasure go, but we’ve just run out of room. And with all of the sensible people around (see True Blood), we just don’t need to be so private anymore. It can be found and taken for free in the 3400 block of Barranca circle near Mt Bonnell. Better hurry though. It is Big Trash week in our neighborhood. <ul> <li> Location: mt bonnell <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-07-20T10:59:56-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1279291878.html Coffin text Planned Parenthood protestors - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1265642730.html I was having trouble finding the clinic Saturday morning, but then I saw you guys waving your signs around, and I knew exactly which exit to take. I made it to my abortion with five minutes to spare. Keep up the good work! <ul> <li> Location: South Austin <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-07-12T01:48:33-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1265642730.html Planned Parenthood protestors - w4m text 300 Stuffed Penguins Free to Good Home http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1208932583.html ********PENGUINS STILL AVAILABLE! Thank you for the overwhelming response******** What I'm offering here is about 300 stuffed penguins of various shapes, sizes, and species (predominately Emperor, though--like the kind in March of the Penguins) to a deserving child. I'm going through a pretty weird time in my life right now--having just gone through a break-up and graduated college and temporarily living in my parents' house before I move out for good in in the fall, though I remain unemployed because my philosophy degree is at *such* a premium--and sifting through my room (which has become a strange amalgam of my adolescence and burgeoning adulthood), it's been brought to my attention that I probably won't "catch a man" or have anyone believe I'm about to turn 23 with 300 penguins and a bunch of purple furniture around, that looking at my current room one might think some sort of 13-year-old with developmental issues is living here. I loved penguins as a child--long before they were trendy and had their own series of CGI movies or the godly voice of Morgan Freeman was involved--and collected them, often putting on penguin weddings and penguin ballet recitals where I made costumes for individual penguins, all of whom had names that I kept track of on my penguin censuses. I could recite all 16 species of penguin in alphabetical order... ...so, yes, I feel justified in saying I want a deserving child. A child that will really, well, love the penguins, and cherish his/her youth with them as it slowly slips away... Or, alternatively, some adult who has a great use for them, like if you are making the next big penguin movie (or play?). Or, if you are opening some new theme restaurant in town and need my penguins for your decor. As long as I'm auctioning off my childhood to the highest bidder, I reserve the right to be a little choosy. E-mail with your intentions and we will work something out. <ul> <li> Location: NW <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-06-06T17:38:55-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1208932583.html 300 Stuffed Penguins Free to Good Home text I woke up to shit-vomit http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1121771299.html I woke up this morning with my nose hairs curled and my eyes burning. My fucking dog took a shit in the early hours of the morning and then decided to eat it to hide the evidence. The problem is that it makes him sick and then he throws it up. I woke up at 5:45 am to the strong smell of shit-vomit on the carpet. Oh, and he walks around the fucking house burping it up too. So basically he shit-vomit-farts out of his mouth. You fucking dumb dog. You are 3 years old and house broken. Why would you do that? If you take a shit on the carpet just leave it there. It is so much easier to clean up that way. I'm not going to let you in the house today because even if you stop barfing up shit-vomit you still burp it up which makes the house smell like SHIT-VOMIT! Fuck you and then next time another dog is butt-fucking you at the dog park I'm not coming to your rescue. <ul> <li> Location: Austin <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-04-14T10:14:46-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1121771299.html I woke up to shit-vomit text How to write a successful W4W personal ad http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1110342947.html Dear women of Austin: I love you. As a queer myself, I know how useful the Internet can be in connecting with similar folk, and I have used it successfully. For that reason, I wanted to give you a few tips on writing posts that bring you responses from people of quality, people you may even find attractive. We must begin with how the ad is written. 1. GET OFF THE CAPS LOCK. I know you're excited. The Internet can be scary, in a thrilling sort of way. But all caps makes you look insane. It conjures up the image of one of those people with no concept of volume or personal space, the type of person who thinks that you and she are destined to be together after one date, the kind of person that gets jealous when someone looks your way in the grocery store. Nobody wants that person. Nobody. 2. use the shift key. I will grant that I know some very intelligent people who have an allergy to the uppercase side of the alphabet, but it demonstrates lack of concern for others. This especially applies if the only word you capitalize is "I". There's some psychology there. 3. Spell-check, for Christ's sake. You are on a computer, you can find a spell checker. You might have a great personality, but the inability to spell simple words like "you" or "know" casts a knuckledragging tone over your whole post. You might even be suspected of being fourteen. 4. Punctuation. Use it, and use it correctly. There are only three dots in an ellipsis, like so (...), and I fear that at the current rate of use we will be facing record shortages within a decade. The same goes for the humble exclamation point, who never expected that he'd be forced into so many orgies. On the other hand, the comma is ready and willing to help break up your monster blocks of text. 5. No textspeak. Lol all you want, but it's not making you look anything but hysterical. Next, we must discuss presentation. 1. Stand out. So you like the outdoors, music, dancing, and walking your dog. Congratulations, you are compatible with 90% of Austin lesbians. (The other 10% are too busy attempting to seduce their ex-girlfriend's girlfriend's sister's ex-girlfriend to read Craigslist.) Be more specific, and play up the quirkier aspects of your character. Being different can be a very good thing. 2. On the other hand, avoid alarming specificity. You may be absolutely sure that your dream girl is slightly butch but not really butch, between 5'6" and 5'9", with brown hair and blue eyes and cute glasses and really really loves Chuck Palahniuk , but you may be seriously limiting your chances of success with anyone if you put all that in an ad. This is true even if you are actually targeting your ex-girlfriend's girlfriend's sister's ex-girlfriend, and are too shy to actually, like, ask her out or something. 3. Don't be a bigot. "White or Hispanic women only" is a popular one. It makes the reader suspect the poster belongs to some sort of queer-friendly aryan supremacist group, one where they sew little rainbow patches on their hoods and robes. Similarly, the phrase "no fatties" has no appeal. Even if the reader is slim, she may feel disinclined to hook up with someone as deep as a midsummer puddle. 4. Don't be an obvious man. Not to say that dykes don't have any pubic hair preferences, but getting into the nitty-gritty of the downstairs carpet right away raises suspicion. Also, no one with half a brain is going to send you naked pictures and explicit messages right off the bat. Not any woman, anyway. Ruminate on that for a while. 5. Pictures. Most of us here have boobs and have had contact with other boobs. We are not terribly swayed by grainy photos of tits that may or may not actually belong to the poster. Anonymous bare boobies glisten with palpable desperation. There is also no need to post pictures of your face if you are only going to blur out all recognizable characteristics, unless of course you are hoping to attract tooth fetishists and compliments on your hair. 6. Partnered people: I understand the poly thing, believe me. But you all need to google "hot-bi-babe syndrome", please and thank you . Additionally, ladies, it is very obvious when your boyfriend is putting you up to posting here. Talk about yourself, not your hot pussy. That comes later (so to speak). 7. Spammers: You can at least take the time to make sure you change all the pronouns as you move from one section to the next. Once you have this all down, we can move on to the business of answering ads. 1. Keep a lid on your neuroses. I once got a reply where the person, whom I had never spoken to before in my life, declared that if I did not answer her message she would conclude that I was shallow and judgemental. As it turned out, I was okay with that. 2. Describe yourself a bit. It's rather tiring to reply to messages that say nothing more than "I like your ad wanna chat?" Even the spambots and the lonely Russian mail-order brides are more talkative. 3. Abide by everything else written above. A note on Missed Connections: Missed Connections is a great place to vent. However, I think greater specificity can be a good thing. The more specific you are about the intended recipient, the less likely you are to have your post hijacked by nutjobs who get into heated dialogues with other nutjobs about things that happened with other people who are not the least bit aware of what's going on. If you are one of these nutjobs, go outside. I hope these tips help you find the love, friendship, and pussy you are looking for. Good luck! <ul> <li> Location: Austin <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-04-06T18:11:45-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/1110342947.html How to write a successful W4W personal ad text 1978 Triumph Spitfire http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/990076336.html Runs surprisingly well, transmission shifts nice. Brakes work well. Passes inspection, all lights, wipers and horn function. Minimal rust, solid rockers, good floor. It's a 20-footer. Lots of dings and hickies but complete. Originally had the rubber bumpers until chrome bumpers from an earlier car were installed. The alloy wheels are Minilite copies called Minator also made in England. The tires are good condition Kumho. The paint is dull so this could be a good beginner's painting project. The convertible top isn't perforated and has clear windows. Unless I happen to fix it prior to selling, the driver's door opens from the outside handle only, the passenger side only from the inside. The horn honks like it has a frog in its throat. I have no idea how many miles are on this car as the odometer has never worked. It marks its territory with a few drops of oil, doesn't smoke and has good oil pressure. The gauges all work, the dash lights illuminate, the heater blows hot in any season. The driver's seat needs upholstery repair. It comes with a tonneau cover to cover the cockpit without putting the top up. Learn the art of "Shabby Chic". Most people having a mid-life crisis blow a king's ransom on a Porsche Boxster or late 60's Stingray - or - grow the obligatory cliche goatee + big gut and buy a Harley. We both know you're not that lacking in creativity. You want a car that says you take the less trodden path, that you're mechanically inclined and that you like to park anywhere without concern for door dings or theft. Voila! Here's your car: pre-dinged and invisible to car thieves, the thrill of top-down British motoring at a sub-Geo Metro price. You won't have to wear a bag over your head with this $2K purchase. Cheapskates rejoice: register it as an antique for once-every-5-years renewals, and no inspections. Surprisingly, insuring this car is peanuts. Buyer's Guide for the Married Man (or) How To Justify Buying My Car to a Significant Other There's no rational justification for buying this car so you'll need to stretch the truth. For example if you're a one-car household you could say it's the second car for commuting to a nearby employer or for getting groceries. You and I both know your employer doesn't look favorably on iconoclasts in tiny cars who arrive late and blame dodgy Lucas electrics. We also know that this is the wrong car for trips to Costco, but it's all about the S.O. (significant other) at this point. You can call it an economy car as it's a 1500cc 4-cylinder car that weighs about as much as a full dress Harley Davidson so your nose won't go Pinocchio on this point. You could also point out you've upped your life insurance to a cool $1 million dollars and this car doesn't have air bags & sits at the height of a big rig's lug nuts. Think outside the box. You can do it. Working together we are a team. (Bonus points: this car played a role in the unraveling of a particularly dumb marriage, and for that I am glad. I should keep it as a memento but feel it might help some other trapped person break the bonds of a loveless relationship.) Specs: * Minlite alloy wheels * Weber carbueretor * Canon intake * Pacesetter headers * Monza four tip exhaust * Air adjustable rear shocks * Chrome bumpers <img src="990076336.1.jpg"> <img src="990076336.2.jpg"> <img src="990076336.3.jpg"> <img src="990076336.4.jpg"> <ul> <li> Location: E. Austin <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-12T13:32:50-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/990076336.html 1978 Triumph Spitfire text a letter from a shelter manager http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/960931196.html A Letter from a Shelter Manager I think our society needs a huge "Wake-up" call. As a shelter manager, I am going to share a little insight with you all...a view from the inside if you will. First off, all of you breeders/sellers should be made to work in the "back" of an animal shelter for just one day. Maybe if you saw the life drain from a few sad, lost, confused eyes, you would change your mind about breeding and selling to people you don't even know. That puppy you just sold will most likely end up in my shelter when it's not a cute little puppy anymore. So how would you feel if you knew that there's about a 90% chance that dog will never walk out of the shelter it is going to be dumped at? Purebred or not! About 50% of all of the dogs that are "owner surrenders" or "strays", that come into my shelter are purebred dogs. The most common excuses I hear are; "We are moving and we can't take our dog (or cat)." Really? Where are you moving too that doesn't allow pets? Or they say "The dog got bigger than we thought it would". How big did you think a German Shepherd would get? "We don't have time for her". Really? I work a 10-12 hour day and still have time for my 6 dogs! "She's tearing up our yard". How about making her a part of your family? They always tell me "We just don't want to have to stress about finding a place for her we know she'll get adopted, she's a good dog". Odds are your pet won't get adopted & how stressful do you think being in a shelter is? Well, let me tell you, your pet has 72 hours to find a new family from the moment you drop it off. Sometimes a little longer if the shelter isn't full and your dog manages to stay completely healthy. If it sniffles, it dies. Your pet will be confined to a small run/kennel in a room with about 25 other barking or crying animals. It will have to relieve itself where it eats and sleeps. It will be depressed and it will cry constantly for the family that abandoned it. If your pet is lucky, I will have enough volunteers in that day to take him/her for a walk. If I don't, your pet won't get any attention besides having a bowl of food slid under the kennel door and the waste sprayed out of its pen with a high-powered hose. If your dog is big, black or any of the "Bully" breeds (pit bull, rottie, mastiff, etc) it was pretty much dead when you walked it through the front door. Those dogs just don't get adopted. It doesn't matter how 'sweet' or 'well behaved' they are. If your dog doesn't get adopted within its 72 hours and the shelter is full, it will be destroyed. If the shelter isn't full and your dog is good enough, and of a desirable enough breed it may get a stay of execution, but not for long . Most dogs get very kennel protective after about a week and are destroyed for showing aggression. Even the sweetest dogs will turn in this environment. If your pet makes it over all of those hurdles chances are it will get kennel cough or an upper respiratory infection and will be destroyed because shelters just don't have the funds to pay for even a $100 treatment. Here's a little euthanasia 101 for those of you that have never witnessed a perfectly healthy, scared animal being "put-down". First, your pet will be taken from its kennel on a leash. They always look like they think they are going for a walk happy, wagging their tails. Until they get to "The Room", every one of them freaks out and puts on the brakes when we get to the door. It must smell like death or they can feel the sad souls that are left in there, it's strange, but it happens with every one of them. Your dog or cat will be restrained, held down by 1 or 2 vet techs depending on the size and how freaked out they are. Then a euthanasia tech or a vet will start the process. They will find a vein in the front leg and inject a lethal dose of the "pink stuff". Hopefully your pet doesn't panic from being restrained and jerk. I've seen the needles tear out of a leg and been covered with the resulting blood and been deafened by the yelps and screams. They all don't just "go to sleep", sometimes they spasm for a while, gasp for air and defecate on themselves. When it all ends, your pets corpse will be stacked like firewood in a large freezer in the back with all of the other animals that were killed waiting to be picked up like garbage. What happens next? Cremated? Taken to the dump? Rendered into pet food? You'll never know and it probably won't even cross your mind. It was just an animal and you can always buy another one, right? I hope that those of you that have read this are bawling your eyes out and can't get the pictures out of your head I deal with everyday on the way home from work. I hate my job, I hate that it exists & I hate that it will always be there unless you people make some changes and realize that the lives you are affecting go much farther than the pets you dump at a shelter. Between 9 and 11 MILLION animals die every year in shelters and only you can stop it. I do my best to save every life I can but rescues are always full, and there are more animals coming in everyday than there are homes. My point to all of this DON'T BREED OR BUY WHILE SHELTER PETS DIE! Hate me if you want to. The truth hurts and reality is what it is. I just hope I maybe changed one persons mind about breeding their dog, taking their loving pet to a shelter, or buying a dog. I hope that someone will walk into my shelter and say "I saw this and it made me want to adopt". THAT WOULD MAKE IT WORTH IT <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-16T21:27:37-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/960931196.html a letter from a shelter manager text RAT IN SUV http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/958727622.html I need to get rid of this rat that has been in my car for weeks now. it's cheweed through wiring for my gas gage and other things Please let me know if you know how to get a critter out of a car I've set up snap traps and glue pads down and even the Rat Zapper 2000 and nothing. This rat is smart enough to avoid getting trapped. DETAILS: rat inside a Tahoe about a week with snap traps out enjoys cheese and peanut butter <ul> <li> Location: NW Austin <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests <li> Compensation: no pay </ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-15T11:14:23-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/958727622.html RAT IN SUV text Hideous, Mean, Saggy-titted Cur http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/891762377.html Okay, so about three months ago my roommate takes in this stray dog. She's horrible, and I'm a dog lover, so I don't say that lightly. I say that as heavily as possible. And please don't flag this post for removal, because there is a real dog whose life is at stake here, and although you may disagree with my not writing flowery Ad-Man prose about her, hell, I'm just being honest. This dog sucks. When my roommate found her on the streets, she was malnourished and skittish and had heart worms. You know, I've read more and more stories about pets being abandoned lately because of the economy. I recently got back from a gay wedding in California where one of the grooms had just rescued a Papillon he found starving in a ditch. He was neurotic and defensive for like the first few days, but now a week later he has settled in, and is doing great. And the Papillon's doing well, too. But this pendulously mammaried cur - Elzora, my roommate calls her, though you might as well be meowing at her, because she doesn't know the difference - she is not like that. Not. Like. That. At. All. This is not the precious, precocious Papillon someone rescues from a ditch. This is the miserable, ugly bitch (I use the term technically) that you make a little scrunchy-face at while glancing at it askance...before calling fricking Animal Control. Roomie, who seriously must have a heart the size of the state, felt sorry for her and took her in and he fed her and took her to the vet. Roomie and I are poor, but he treated her heart worms, got her shots, etc., all with the idea that eventually he was going to put her up for adoption here or take her to a no-kill shelter. (Roomie is also, evidently, a dreamer.) But then she's got behavior problems (which I'm getting to...), and is as ugly as a dead frog squashed by a semi (which I'm also getting to...), and has health issues likely stemming from past abuse (which oh boy, I'm getting to...). Elzora, or "Mama Dog," as she is more frequently called, is supposedly an Australian Kelpie (according to the vet) though she looks to me like she's got some Doberman in her. But ironically, Kelpies are renown for their agility. Mama Dog is supposedly around 2 years old, but is as agile as a drunk granny on crack. (UPDATE: The hive mind consensus is that she is more Dobie than Kelpie.) If you want to know what she looks like, she's a dead ringer for the Capitoline Wolf. Look it up on Wikipedia while the article is still accurate. So Elzora would be great if you had two infants, for example, that you wanted to abandon in the woods only to have them found Western Civilization. Without the two little baby statues beneath her, though, I have to say that the first thing you notice about Mama Dog is: nipples. Obscenely large nipples. We think she was probably used for breeding or something because there's really no other explanation. I'm not being cruel, I'm just saying. Because there's one nipple in particular that is really disturbing. The rest you could maybe overlook. But she has this one nipple that hangs really low, and it's fat, but then it gets really skinny, and then it gets fat again. It's like it's just barely hanging on, though it's not, and evidently there's nothing 'wrong' with it except how it looks. But man, that nipple is unsettling. Having been used for breeding might also explain the issue with her hind legs. When she lies down, it's normally with her legs fully extended, off to the side. And she walks funny, like her back legs don't bend that well. The vet didn't say anything about it and she doesn't appear to be in any pain, so it may have come from being raised cramped up in a cage, or from always being lying down, nursing puppies, or maybe from giving birth so many times: who knows. She doesn't really run unless she sees a squirrel, but even then it's kind of limpy-gimpy. She loves to play with tennis balls, but because of the past abuse to her rear legs, she just kind of lamely bats them around in front of herself with her front paws. It's endearing in a sad way. I don't know: maybe she'd make a good pet for someone who wanted to teach their children that life is cruel and unfair and that people sometimes mistreat animals. That's not what I'd want to teach my kids, but who's to judge? Anyhow...Kelpie, yes...but the whole Agile Kelpie thing: Just Not Happening. Finally, there's her temperament. She's loving and protective of her humans. Maybe a little too protective, as she can growl at strangers. But put her with a dog that's slightly larger than her and she goes nuts. Like, foaming at the frickin' mouth nuts. She probably would not be a good Dog Park dog, though we've never tried it. On the other hand, she would likely provide excellent protection from zombies. One of my dogs, Chloe, is slightly larger than Elzora and Elzora hounds her constantly. She stares her down, incessantly circles her - she seriously will not leave Chloe alone. Again, maybe due to past abuse or her previous environment, I think Elzora feels like she has to establish herself as alpha dog for reasons of survival. But she's hindered because due to her hips she cannot engage in typical dominance behavior (mounting - yes, even females do it). So she growls and will attempt to corral the dog that intimidates her. If you try to stop her or get her to leave the other dog alone, she will start foaming at the mouth. Seriously. Eventually, Elzora goads the other dog enough that they will fight. She can't win because she's disabled, but she 100% will not listen and will not back down. She doesn't seem to be threatened by smaller dogs...but she would probably be best in a one-dog household. On the positive side, she does appear to be house trained and gets along well with cats. And again, there's the thing with zombies. But okay, seriously, if somebody doesn't take her off of Craigslist, then she's going to the pound, where it's guaranteed euthanasia. My roommate wanted to write a "nice" ad for her, but he's out of town, and frankly, he kept putting it off and putting it off because he probably couldn't think of anything nice to say about her either. He gave me the go-ahead to post an ad and if nobody responds, to drop her off at the pound. PLEASE don't write any sanctimonious responses about all the things we really should do for this dog. My roommate's on disability and I've just moved to town and have yet to find a steady job - I'm doing landscape work currently, and the damn dog's not mine to begin with. But neither of us has the time or money for aggression training or cosmetic nipple surgery or anything else. Simply put, her time here is done and her only hope for a solution now is you. Don't write me with suggestions. Come get her and implement them yourself. SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY. <ul> <li> Location: Austin <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-10-24T11:35:18-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/891762377.html Hideous, Mean, Saggy-titted Cur text PHOTOSHOP WIZ NEEDED ASAP http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/851871908.html I need original cell phone statements scanned and numbers changed then reprinted front and back!, if this is something you can do well and do in a very quick manner I need to speak with you asap... There are three to four bills that need to adjusted with numbers on pages, front and back. I am dealing with a jealous boyfriend that wants to see my statements asap. I am willing to compensate with a nice sum of cash! I will come to your location and wait to have them done, must have a a nicer printer, I will supply the paper. <ul> <li> Location: austin <li> Compensation: a few hundred dollars <li> This is a part-time job. <li>Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster. <li>Please, no phone calls about this job! <li>Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-09-23T09:19:46-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/851871908.html PHOTOSHOP WIZ NEEDED ASAP text rocketship/boat/race car/fort/house/time machine http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/706729174.html please come pick up our gently used rocketship/boat/race car/fort/house/time machine. don't spend your 600 stimulus clams on your kids. give dubya the finger while you invest it and get them this!! it will be gone by thursday if no responses. i am 6'3" so it is obviously big enough to fly to the moon, cross the atlantic, win the indy 500, defend against invading raiders, do fake home remodeling projects, or travel back in time to tell your parents you don't want a crappy box. <img src="706729174.jpg"> <ul> <li> Location: south first and stassney <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-06-03T19:03:56-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/706729174.html rocketship/boat/race car/fort/house/time machine text Dear Cat, http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/616864088.html Dear Cat, I have some issues with you right now that I would like to hash out. And now is as good a time as any with you laying over my arms while I am trying to type on the computer. You don't even look comfortable and you can't breathe lying like that with your butt higher up than your head but your brain is the size of a walnut so I will forgive you. First of all, the litterbox. Is it your goal to poop on the rim of the box? Because if it is, bravo! Mission accomplished, you can stop now. You have proved your point. It is not funny anymore, and I have run out of sticks in the yard to clean it off with. The box is big enough, and you are still small, so don't even go there. Now... making pointless, incessant noises. If I take something away from you because I am tired of hearing it scoot across the floor for the last 2 hours, it does not mean to go find something else to mess with. I mean really where do you find this stuff? A wad of paper? A bottle cap? Is that really that fun to play with? I put things on the coffee table because I want them there. I do not want you to knock EVERYTHING off of the coffee table in one of your mindless "tearing ass through the house for no reason" adventures every single day. Once in a while, it is amusing. Every day, it's not that funny. Your ass stinks. I mean REALLY stinks. Like the worst poop you've ever smelled. Why do you smell soooo horrible? I thought cats were clean! I have never experienced this smelly, stinky cat phenomena with any other cat on this Earth. Why, God, did you give me the most stinky cat in this solar system? And Cat, why do you insist on showing me your ass? I know it stinks, but what am I supposed to do about it? Bathe you??? LOL! Remember the last time that happened? I still have the scars... Also, when you sit on my arm, please have the kindness to put your tail over your butthole so it doesn't come into contact with my skin. I might catch something. Lastly, I am allergic to you. I know this isn't your fault, but knowing this, why do you insist on rubbing the whole length of your body on my face? Okay... I just pulled a CATHAIR out of my eye. No wonder my eyes are itchy if you are purposefully depositing your dander into my eyes! What are you trying to prove here? That you know I'm stuck with you? While you're busy carrying things about the house in your mouth to deposit them into some area that I haven't discovered yet- would you mind bringing me a peice of sandpaper to me so that I can alleviate the itching you've caused me? Oh- while we're on this subject, I need my hair ties back- I know you have them. Thanks. <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-03-24T12:02:28-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/616864088.html Dear Cat, text Mom, I know you're there. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/603080295.html Mom, I know you’re out there, reading this. How do I know you’re out there? Let’s begin with that ad of mine that you recently responded to, shall we? You know the one I’m talking about. It was entitled, “Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?—m4w--22” That ad ran for three days before I got a response, and I can’t tell you, Mom, how my heart fell when I saw the photo that accompanied the response. It was your Realtor’s headshot, the one on your business card. Even worse was the text of your response. I’m so, so sorry I know now what you’d do to me if we ever “hooked up.” On the other hand, Dad must’ve been a very, very lucky guy back in the day. I dunno, maybe he still is. I guess, Mom, when I think a bit about it, that I should resign myself to whatever it is that you are doing. After all, you’re an adult and I’m an adult. I can’t tell you what you should do with your life. But Mom, I’d like to raise a few points. The first point I’d like to raise is that you’re still married to Dad. Please, please PLEASE tell me that you have his blessing. My mind is reeling now, hoping that you’re not the people who posted “Fun Couple Looking For Others—MW4MW—57” I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that it is you. Now that I know you’re cruising CE, I suspect that there aren’t too many other 57 year old swingers from the Westlake area posting on Craigslist. The second point I’d like to raise is that you owe it to whoever you’re trying to hook up with to be honest. I mean, I lived with you and Dad for 18 years. You’re not that fun. Finally, I’d like you to stop responding to my “College Stud Needs a MILF—m4w—22” ads. The only one who should find you to be MILF-y at all is Dad. For me, you are just an “M”. Got it? Your son. PS. I’m going to swing by at around 7-7:30-ish to do a load of wash, is that okay? I tried to call you at the office, but they kept telling me that you’re busy. <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Austin <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-03-11T16:38:03-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/603080295.html Mom, I know you're there. text Awesome handstitched rug made from ex's fave shirts. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/594971717.html Allright folks...I have this lovely, amazing rug made hade out of my evil ex-fiance's favorite shirts! My idea was this...I would cut them up and sew them together in order to make a mat to place under my cat's litter box. Seemed pretty deserving, right? But then I thought...when my ex left me for a 19 year old hussy, really he ditched Tony Montana (my awesome cat) as well, and Tony shouldn't have to walk on the ex's shirt day in and day out (even if it is only to do his kitty "business"). SO! I am offering you all a piece of history. This rug was made from 3 of my ex's most prized shirts, including an old school Beastie Boys shirt he got at a concert years ago. It really is something, and I spent a lot of time making it, so I don't want it to go to waste. What do I want in return? Well, I'm pretty broke. Our breakup left me essentially pennyless, but whatever. I'm willing to accept anything in return (extra points if YOU have a tshirt rug made from your evil ex's shirt that you would like to trade). Here's the catch though...you have to promise to abuse this rug. I mean straight up abuse it. Make it a front door mat so everyone can wipe their feet on it. Put it under your cat's litter box. Hang it on the wall and throw offensive things at it...I don't care. But if you could send me a photo of the rug once you've had your filthy way with it, I would be much obliged :D This is a small photo of the rug in question. It is quite large, and if you want, I have a couple more shirts of his that I would gladly attatch to this rug, making it much larger. If you would like a better photo, please just ask, and I will send one your way. But please, serious offers only. This is a work of art, and I am quite proud of it. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.  <img src="594971717.jpg">  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Austin <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-03-04T05:20:01-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/594971717.html Awesome handstitched rug made from ex's fave shirts. text I can't believe I ate ants for you - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/582393674.html When you had a small group over for bbq at your place I pretended I didn't notice the tortilla chips had ants all over them and ate them anyway. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of your friends and make them question the sanitary quality of the food they were about to eat. Now that I have gotten absolutely nowhere with you I deeply regret this decision.  <img src=582393674.jpg>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: east <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-02-21T21:27:47-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/582393674.html I can't believe I ate ants for you - w4m text Pheromone Assault - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/578970987.html I was trying desperately to pay attention/stay awake during the lecture on Saturday, when, much to my surprise, I was visited by an erection. Not just any erection, but my very own. How could this possibly be happening in such a benign and sterile environment? The break rolled around. Time to get up, very cautiously, at that, collect my seemingly uncontrollable libido and refocus my attentions on...basically anything besides my package. Lo and behold, as we reconvened, again I was struck with the terror I haven't felt since I was sixteen years old. My only conclusion is that ovulation had someone spitting olfactory arousal like a garden sprinkler. Please, do me, and my member, a favor the next time your uterus is screaming for seed; wear a sweater, or latex panties, or a cellophane body suit. Anything to keep your hormonal telekinesis under wraps.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-02-19T01:18:22-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/578970987.html Pheromone Assault - m4w text Seeking hardworking service providers... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/558260167.html I'm a fabulously wealthy photographer / artist making money hand over fist. Here's what I need: A mechanic to overhaul my custom '57 Chevy. A maid to clean my house on a regular basis A doctor to perform some minor surgery on me. A band to perform theme music for me where ever I go. A carpenter and electrician to build an extra wing on my sweet house in East Austin. A nanny to watch my spoiled kids. Of course there will be no pay involved. In return for your services you will get FULL CREDIT on my website, AND you can add all of this work to your PORTFOLIO! If you ask me, this is an absolutely awesome deal! I hope to have you work for me soon!  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: ATX <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests <li> Compensation: Compensation in the form of starvation! </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-01-31T09:28:23-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/558260167.html Seeking hardworking service providers... text My Missed Connection with Hard-Earned Cervical Annihilation. - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/512094195.html Okay, look: I know there's been a lot of buildup. All those sloppy drunken looks, rubbing thighs on beer-soaked couches, me all dopey-smiley watching you roll around on the floor and scream for your band. One time you showed up unexpectedly at a party, and I Febrezed myself in the bathroom so you would think I smell pretty. We go together like bacon and eggs. Like hookers and blow. And then, finally, I mustered up the ovaries to openly proposition you. We rolled around in bed for a while. I fumbled for the goods, and scha-BLAM! Your next generation, all over my hand. It was cool, though. We were excited. But this last time, we were relatively sober. I was in peak condition! I pulled my clothes off all slow-like, then crawled up the bed, making dick-happy noises, getting girl-juice on your leg. I had just enough Schlitz in my system to administer a truly impassioned blowjob without picking the lint from your belly button (it was distracting, but the sheer force of libido compelled me to let this slide). You got all thigh-quivery. I made my move. Slowly, I pried my mouth away from your kickstand and straddled you. Sweet Mother of God, did you ever feel good! I began to slowly grind, kissing your neck, my hand in your hair... When, all of a sudden, you picked me up by my hips and threw me. THREW me! I came crashing down on the bed to your left, a truly impressive mid-coital bodyslam. Cunthurt and bewildered, I am immediately turned to inquire, "What the fuck?" You responded by spraying your boy-goo all over my tummy! Okay, listen: I know I'm good at what I do. But three minutes is not acceptable. I've seen virginities come and go in faster time. And just going to sleep was pretty uncool, too. I'm a woman, and sex is a buyer's market for me. I shouldn't have to jerk off in my bathroom, fantasizing about the goddamn video store clerk while you sleep in my bed. You gotta step up your game, baby. Or I'll find another guy with dumb tattoos to annihilate my cervix for you.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-12-17T12:18:16-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/512094195.html My Missed Connection with Hard-Earned Cervical Annihilation. - w4m text Frankenpick http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/453488653.html Latest offering smuggled from the former Soviet Union, this pick utilizes old Russian nuclear laser technology. Strap on the convenient Velcro micro-unit, plug into any 1200 Watt power supply, and aim the solar panels directly at the sun and dial in the guitar style of your choice. From Chet Atkins to Duane Allman, guitar herodom is literally at your fingertips. The micro sensors process the bass and drum beats and submit a series of small electrical shocks directly into your nervous system causing you to involuntarily crank out searing leads. A word of caution: actual electrical discharges my vary, and side affects could include erratic blues face, trembling of the hips commonly known as Presley syndrome, drooling and involuntary anal discharge. In extreme cases, you may be mistaken for a drummer. Local sales only. Cash only. Contact your health care professional if erection last more than 6 hours. No scammers please.  <img src=453488653.jpg>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: South Austin <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-10-19T09:08:16-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/453488653.html Frankenpick text Calling all Roys or Troys or LeRoys http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/452819425.html Hi... If your name is Roy, Troy or LeRoy...I WANT YOU! I was with a Roy before (please see photo) and it didn't last as long as my tattoo. Who knew? Getting the tattoo removed is not something I want to do, plus I'm so accustomed to bellowing it (Roy) out in bed. What can I say, I'm a creature of habit. If your name isn't Roy, or even a variation, but you can somehow find a way to incorporate it into my tattoo, I'm open to suggestions. About me: I'm 27, 5'4", 115 lbs, brown hair, blue eyes, freckles and looking for love (and a way to keep my tattoo). Thanks fellas, Dynah  <img src=452819425.jpg>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-10-18T14:18:23-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/452819425.html Calling all Roys or Troys or LeRoys text Why we should hang out: a mathematical proof http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/419154651.html or <h3>A Young Lady’s Illustrated Primer</h3> Suppose that you can go out with some number of guys, n. Assume that after going out with any number r (1 ≤ r ≤ n) of the men, you can rank them from most preferable (rank 1) to least preferable (rank r). At any stage, you can either stop and commit to one man, or go on to the next one. Further, assume that once a guy is rejected you can never go back. For i = 1, …, n, let U(i) be the utility of selecting the guy with rank i among all n guys. We shall assume that U(1) ≥ U(2) ≥ … ≥ U(n). Let the random variable X denote the rank of the man that is selected. The goal is to find a rule with maximizes E(U(X)). For a = 1, …, r and r = 1, …, n, let U*(a,r) denote the expected utility of the optimal continuation when r guys have been inspected and the rth guy has been found to have a rank a among the r. Also, let U0(a,r) denote the expected utility if the rth man is selected, and dating is terminated. Since we fixed an n, <blockquote> U*(a,n) = U0(a,n) = U(a) </blockquote> Now consider the probability than a man with rank a among the first r actually has rank b among all n men: <blockquote> <table> <tr> <td rowspan="2">(</td> <td>b – 1</td> <td rowspan="2">) × (</td> <td>n – b</td> <td rowspan="2">) / (</td> <td>n</td> <td rowspan="2">)</td> </tr> <tr> <td>a – 1</td> <td>r – a</td> <td>r</td> </tr> </table> </blockquote> The rank b must lie between the bounds a ≤ b ≤ (n – r + a). Therefore, <blockquote> <table border="0" valign="middle"> <tr valign="bottom"> <td> </td> <td align="center">b=a</td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr valign="middle"> <td rowspan="2">U0(a,r) =</td> <td align="center" rowspan="2">∑</td> <td rowspan="2">U(b) (</td> <td>b – 1</td> <td rowspan="2">) × (</td> <td>n – b</td> <td rowspan="2">) / (</td> <td>n</td> <td rowspan="2">)</td> </tr> <tr valign="middle"> <td>a – 1</td> <td>r – a</td> <td>r</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td> </td> <td align="center">n–r+a</td> <td> </td> </tr> </table> </blockquote> Clearly, after inspecting r guys, the expected utility of inspecting one more and continuing optimally is <blockquote> <table> <tr valign="bottom"> <td></td> <td>b=1</td> <td></td> </tr> <tr> <td>1/(r+1) ×</td> <td align="center">∑</td> <td>U*(b, r+1)</td> </tr> <tr> <td></td> <td>r+1</td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </blockquote> Call this expression Z. From this, we can see that U*(a,r) = max(U0(a,r),Z). The optimal procedure is to continue if U*(a,r) > U0(a,r), and to commit when U*(a,r) = U0(a,r) Now, consider the choice of utility function. Assume a spherical cow. Also, assume that U(1) = 1, and U(b) = 0 for b = 2, …, n. Then U0(1,r) = r/n, and U0(a,r) = 0 a = 2, …, r. Note that this is a fair approximation for the case of a soulmate. Then U*(1,r) = r/n, and should be continued if U*(1,r) > r/n. It then follows that the optimal procedure is to go out with 1/e of the guys, and then select the first one thereafter which has rank 1. Now, if n isn’t fixed, utility can be maximized by maximizing n. I’m a guy. QED. An alternate proof can be constructed by assuming we’re both Bayesian reasoners, that disagreements about priors are irrational, and that my priors are rational. The proof is left as an exercise to the reader. <img src="419154651.jpg">  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Austin <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-09-10T18:59:36-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/419154651.html Why we should hang out: a mathematical proof text An Open Letter to Bi-curious Drunk Girls http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/406565098.html Dear Bi-curious Drunk Girls, I have something I need to get off my chest. While it's been fun, the kissing and making out and such, something's got to give. You see, I know the minute you start talking about how you "like girls, too", or "think about women a lot" that you're eventually going to ask me to kiss you. I don't mind this at all. In fact, I generally enjoy it. Where I start having a problem is when I try to decide just how drunk you are. I mean, I've been there, drunk that is. And I've been taken advantage of a time or two in that inebriated state. And while I'll be the first to admit I can be a real asshole at times, I try not to take advantage of other people. I consider nailing a girl who's had a few too many "taking advantage". Even if she acts like that's what she wants. Even if she drunk dials me an hour later. You know you didn't leave anything in my car. I'm just asking for a little help here. So today, while you're relatively sober, this is what I want you to do: Give me written permission. That's right, put it on paper. Say "I (fill in the blank), being of sound and sober mind, give permission to the next hot dyke I hit on to nail me soundly. Sincerely, (fill in the blank again)." Then make sure you take it with you the next time you head out to get shit-faced. It's that simple. It will make me feel better about doing what I want to do anyway, which is you. Sincerely, An ethical, but sexually frustrated queer  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-08-26T14:57:07-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/406565098.html An Open Letter to Bi-curious Drunk Girls text Wanfu Date Farts - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/360420731.html We were the girls sitting at the booth across from you at Wanfu about an hour ago. You were there alone with a girl, possible girlfriend? It sounded like she was breaking up with you or telling you she wasn't interested. We weren't prying -- she was a loud talker. Towards the end, you let out 3 bellowing farts. I thought it was the booth after the first one, but then you let loose the following 2. I'm sorry we laughed so hard after that, but I just could not believe what we heard. Very shortly after the.. noises.. you got up and left. I just hope I have the courage to let my bowels loose with an echoing noise of displeasure next time I hear something I don't appreciate. by the way -- i think you might have been kinda cute, but i can't remember what exactly you looked like. i couldn't stop laughing long enough to look up when you left  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Wanfu Too <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-06-25T23:35:57-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/360420731.html Wanfu Date Farts - w4m text True Story: Battle Asses. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/323013997.html Sorry, I don't have anything to post about layoffs or politics, but I DO have another story from the Public Bathroom. Enjoy. You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my IT Computer Nerd business: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each others eye every now and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and I am on to your games. I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on that makes the bathroom, smell like the inside of a dead monkey's colon, and nodded at me. I got you this time, fucker. I give you my icey grin and nod back, then hurry back to my office. It's almost noon, and that's the time you like to run to the toilet and preform your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe in your country there is no commen sense that would tell you that lunch time = hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the high octane liquid shit attack you subjigate them too. But I got you this time. Yeah fucker I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU! Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed brocoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese. I never eat this shit, it's all greasy and fucking nasty, but today is the day I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almsot die. My stomach feels like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin's thighs at Church. Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my face and arms is from running. She doesn't realize that it's a cold sweat induced by my severe sphicter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to the Death Ass Arena. You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the fucking sinks. You stupid, socially retarded fuck. Fine. You have yet to begin your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle. Your opening slavo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-shot closer. I laugh and show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs. The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal fortitude for full out war. You do not dissapoint me. With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser at the urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots dissapear from my vision. My head clears. I am ready. "AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Butt Log". Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers the Indian Ass Gutter oder of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over. The only thing I can think of is that you must has completly unzipped your ass to your elbow. That's the only way I could begin to explain the lumpy, creamy splashs falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shake with whole strawberries in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my throne, unsure if I will survive. I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift up onto the toes and my legs start to shake. "You want to play??" I growls. A low moaning comes from my stomach, like a dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!" Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly recal perfume. I hear you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can't get away, can you? No. You can't. Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream. Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too late! Oders pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled chicken assholes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice. Rosie O'Donnel's racid crotch farts. The smell of your mom's dank, hairy Middle Eastern armpits. Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, Fucker!" I yell, and laugh again. You say nothing. It's all over except for the clean up. Fuck with me again, you shit filled Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Public Bathroom <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-05-02T13:25:57-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/323013997.html True Story: Battle Asses. text Meet Your Three New Best Friends! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/315726255.html Mattress, Box Spring, Bed Frame and I met 8 months ago when I was new to Austin. They were new themselves, not just to Austin, but to life as the makings of a Twin bed set in general. We met at ACL; more specifically in the H-E-B Zilker Beach Playground. The four of us were sitting on plastic Adirondack chairs, enjoying the misting fans and watching Wolf Parade perform on the nearest stage, when some ACL volunteer came up and gruffly told us to get out of the playground. Well, what could we do? All four of us knew we were in the wrong. There were signs were plastered everywhere: “Children and Parents Only”. We all pretended otherwise, though, offering sheepish apologies and pleading ignorance as we filed out of the snow-fenced area. Out once again among the sweaty masses, Mattress started laughing quietly to himself. Box Spring smiled and chuckled, and soon a comradely was formed around our shared exile from the kiddy oasis. From there, we ended up hitting it off famously. We hung out together until well past Van Morrison that night, doing the Sixth street thing and ending it all at Kirby Lane. I asked if they had a place to crash for the night and none of them did. The rest, as they say, is history. As I ready myself for my move back to New York, I grow teary-eyed at the prospect of leaving such good friends behind as Mattress, Box Spring, and Bed Frame. I promised to help them find a new place, so here they are, your three new best friends! A) Here’s Mattress, making another one of his world-class vegetarian meals. Mattress graduated from the New England Culinary Institute at Montpelier among the top of his class. While he is knowledgeable in nearly all the food arts, he holds his specialty in dessert pastries, particularly Hungarian Nut Rolls. B) There’s ‘ole Box Spring, at it again on the weight bench. Just off camera to the right is Box Spring’s ancient boom box, which has only known the love of two CD’s: The Best of Van Halen, volumes I and II. It’s not that he doesn’t like other music; he just finds it pumps him up while he’s pumping up. We know he’s moved on to the free weights because you can hear “Panama” all the way in the kitchen. C) Bed Frame insisted that I use this picture of him posing with his prized moose head, even though I told him it might not endear him to certain craigslist viewers. Innocent moose slaughter aside, Bed Frame is a great guy. He spends his days as an LPN at Shady Pines Nursing Home and most nights at the local Boys and Girls Club teaching basketball fundamentals to underprivileged youth. He’s a real three-point specialist, but as you might imagine he’s a bit porous on defense. When I asked them what they thought they were worth, they told me they retail for $240. They recognize they’re no spring chickens, but they keep themselves in immaculate condition and figured they’re still worth about $99 or thereabouts, negotiable. And that’s without all the intangibles that make them such great companions. D) Look, it’s Mattress, Box Spring and Bed Frame, out on the patio for their Sunday afternoon ritual, “Coffee, Confections and Conversation!” It looks like there’s room for one more at the table today. Could that spot be reserved…for you?  <img src=315726255.a.jpg> <img src=315726255.b.jpg> <img src=315726255.c.jpg> <img src=315726255.d.jpg>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> This item has been posted by-owner. <li> Location: South Lamar <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-04-20T18:29:21-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/315726255.html Meet Your Three New Best Friends! text To the guy who had sex last night in front of my house http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/314979450.html You are not supposed to park where you do – at any time of the day. I consider myself a reasonably nice person that is why you haven’t been ticketed, towed, etc. However, today I draw the line. You have been parking your ugly car in front of my house every Monday through Thursday since January fairly regularly. You are blocking my view of the street. Perhaps you have merely overlooked the rather larger sign stating the rules for parking in this area whilst concentrating on maneuvering your car perfectly into position; and if that is the case, please, allow me to clarify: There is NO Parking (here) at any time except with an area 14 residential permit. This is a college town and parking is a nightmare, I know. However I presume that your reading skills are not what is at fault here. You think you are being really clever (by avoiding having to purchase a school permit or ride the bus).You know that APD has more important things to do then worry about petty parking crimes and you probably assumed that no one would care. This is WRONG. You are allowed to park permit-free further up the street should you feel the need, but this is a more residential area where “real” people live with their children and would rather you didn’t park wherever and drive around at all hours of the day . . . which leads me to my next point. DO NOT boff some girl in said car in front of my house, parked illegally on my street, under a freakin street lamp. This is college town, did you think no one would see? I mean seriously dude. If you were that horny, perhaps you should have moved to the backseat – that would have prevented repeated honking of the horn. I would have never even known what was going on if my walls weren’t so thin and the honking so regular (my god who goes on like that for well over an hour on a well lit street in front of a stranger’s house?). I don’t really care if you have to have sex in your car because you still live at home with mom and dad, I just want to enjoy a peaceful honk-free evening in the serenity of my own home. I do hope you understand this. If this car (and surrounding area) look familiar to you (see pic.) . . . please, please, please park somewhere . . . anywhere else. P.S. You look like you’re 12 years old. Oh yeah and Thank You. I don’t think I will ever be able to own a Toyota. As far as I could tell from the violent rocking of your car, they seem poorly constructed and well quite frankly, now they remind me of you.  <img src=314979450.jpg>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-04-19T15:21:12-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/314979450.html To the guy who had sex last night in front of my house text You might be creeped out. It's talk and type software - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/237124198.html I think I'm just far enough away that you can't hear me talking this to my computer. I use a software that types for me, and it is finally well enough calibrated that it gets most things right the the the the the. Except laughing, apparently. Anyway, I think you are in a band and you are super cute. Hive seen you before at Longbranch and Beauty Bar. I can't tell if you are out of hearing range of me and thus oblivious to this live MC posting, or if I am just making you very uncomfortable and you are can I get you another latte trying to ignore me. I will leave in the conversation my computer picked up from the waitress in case that will help you recognize me. You just slammed your old school apple laptop shut and grabbed your stuff and left, but I don't know if you were just done with whatever you were working on or if you have been hearing me all this time and either you finally just realized I was posting a missed connection about you or you finally just got too creeped out to stay any longer. I hope you are not creeped out. I know it would have been less creepy if I had typed this instead of saying it all out loud while looking directly at you, but I just got this software a couple of weeks ago for multitasking and now I can't help but use it all the time. Want to get coffee some time?  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: a table away from you <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-11-19T12:43:34-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/237124198.html You might be creeped out. It's talk and type software - w4m text 7 out of 8 ain't bad... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/192659778.html Okay. So I'm at work, being bored and hungry. I decided to order a pizza. I order the pizza, wait the 45 minutes and finally the pizza arrrives! (halleluja plays in the background) I sign for the pizza and it's all mine. I take the box. Oh, the glorious smell of Papa John's. How I love thee. I open the box. Hmm. Somethings missing from my pizza. The sausage? No. The tomatoes perhaps? Nope. Maybe...the cheese? What, are you silly? No. No. No. Not sausage or tomatoes or cheese. You know what's missing from my pizza? A WHOLE FUCKING SLICE!!! And I know you're thinking "You've gotta be shitting me" because that's how every single person that has heard about this has reacted. No. I'm not kidding. A whole god-dammed slice was missing from my pizza. And just in case you don't believe me, here's a re-creation of what I opened my pizza box to find... <img style="WIDTH: 328px; HEIGHT: 423px" height="465" src="http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/412/untitledth2.png" width="412"> So, I do what any red-blood American would do after discovering that their dilectable pseudo-italian concoction had be tampered with: I call the manager of Papa John's. Pizza Girl #1: Thank you for calling Papa John's. Just to let you know we have a special. Two large pizzas.... Me: I'm calling to complain. Pizza Girl: Oh? What seems to be the problem. Me: Well, my pizza got here and there's a slice missing. Pizza Girl: Are you serious? Me: As a heart-attack. There's a whole slice...gone. Pizza Girl starts telling the manager about my situation. Pizza Girl: She says there's a slice missing from here pizza. Manager: What? Are you serious. Pizza Girl: She says she's serious. The manager starts laughing hysterically. Manager: Hello, ma'am? Me: Hi. Manager: So, there's a slice *giggle* missing from your pizza? *laughter* Me: Yes. I got the pizza, opened the box and there was a slice gone. Manager: Well, how many slices does your pizza have? Me: *pauses* You've gotta be fucking kidding me...SEVEN! There are seven slices on an EIGHT slice pizza. I am NOT RETARDED. Okay. I didn't say that, but I sure as hell thought it. Me: There are 7 slices. Manager: Oh. Well, umm, I don't...this has never happened before. So, it got there like that? Me: FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY...No. I ate the fucking slice of pizza and was like "oh, wtf. my slice of pizza is gone" Does she think I'm stoned? I don't sound stoned!!! Yes. It got here like that. Manager: Do you want us to send you another pizza? Now, this is where it gets tricky. What am I to do? At this point, I'm famished. I need something to eat. Should I wait another 45 minutes for another pizza? Fuck no. Me: Well, I'm sorta hungry now. Manager: Well, how about I leave this credit on your account for a free pizza for your next order? Me: Will it have all eight slices? Manager: *laughs* Yes, it will have all eight. Me: Okay. Thanks. *CLICK* Alright. So, the mystery of the mising slice goes unsolved, but I got a free pizza out of the deal. I'm still wondering WTF happened to the 8th slice on this one. Did some mysterious creature intercept my pizza in-transit, eat a slice, and then put it back in it's box? Did the delivery person eat my slice? Maybe it was the chef. Maybe it was Colonel Mustard in the Library with a candlestick. Damn that Colonel Mustard! Well, to whoever you are, you pizza stealing son-of-a-bitch: SCREW YOU!  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Westlake <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-10T20:16:26-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/192659778.html 7 out of 8 ain't bad... text Gently Used http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/189413482.html This is the trendy term used to describe all items sold on CL. WTF? Did you never plop into bed or lay on the couch? No, of course not, this is CL where you "gently used" your shit, but it's somehow thrashed out when I come over and look at it. Oh and my personal favorite is the seller who takes the same fucking picture 15 feet away four times. No closups, no brand/model names and of course, no phone or location. The toilet paper I just flushed down the drain is gently used, but your couch and loveseat look like shit.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-02T17:47:27-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/189413482.html Gently Used text Good lays are hard to find. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/160230356.html Why are my vagina and I crying ourselves to sleep every night? Isn't this America, land of the be-a-woman-and-get-great-sex-anytime? I even have a button. Press it right, and sex will happen. Good sex. But do I really want to go through another terrible hook-up? Can I really take the horror of a rocker dude who's snorted too much blow to have a rock hard love wand? I didn't come over because I wanted to spend four hours coaxing a dong into cooperation. I wanted your sexual prowess to smack me into submission. How about trying out the older gent in hopes that, like everyone says, he has pleasing a woman all figured out? Not surprisingly, I found the old-man groaning to be too distracting for me to enjoy myself at all. And just because I'm young doesn't mean I'm going to call you Daddy. Cause that's gross. I already have a Daddy, and I don't want to be involved with his penis in any way. At all. Perhaps the charming friend could be a good partner. I still vote that sex with friends can work out...unless of course a) they want to shove their balls into my mouth to near-asphyxiation or b) they think that sleeping with me means that I suddenly want to receive love letters with lube enclosed. I'm a progressive, intelligent lady and don't expect people to adhere to old fashioned gender roles but DAMMIT MEN. BE MEN. It's so easy. I'll stroke your penis as well as your ego, perhaps even intentionally squealing loudly so the neighbors will know of your manhood. I'll be a willing participant in any kinks. I'll wear a cheerleader outfit. I'll let you toss me around. I'll growl and bite and then raise my voice five octaves when I come (if you make me). Dammit I'll make you feel like a man. All I expect of you is that you make me feel like a woman. That is, act like my vagina is the Arc of the Covenant. Sigh, moan, sweat, clench your teeth, rub, mumble curse words in disbelief. Let me know that being between my legs makes you want to bust in five seconds, but hold it until I'm all done. I'm going to get a margarita.  <img src=160230356.jpg>  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around Austin <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-05-12T17:25:35-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/160230356.html Good lays are hard to find. text Fuck you, chores http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/159271352.html Fuck you, cleaning the fridge. How the hell do you get so dirty? I don't eat in there, I simply store food. What the fuck is that stain on the bottom shelf? Do gnomes have parties in here when I'm at work or something? Nasty little gnomes. And, for some reason, I feel really, really vulnerable when I'm bent over, scrubbing your gross shelves. Don't know why. So thank you for keeping my beer cold, but fuck you for making a mess of it. Fuck you, paying bills. Every goddamned month? Are you kidding me? I barely even watched TV this month, I still gotta shell out all that cash? And, while I'm at it, fuck your pathetic little late fees. They're small enough for me to easily ignore them but they add up over time. So thank you for the electricity, water and internet, but fuck you for your constant demands. Fuck you, deleting old porn to make room for new porn. What man can make this decision? It's like choosing which of my kids to leave behind on the sinking ship. Am I tired of that one slightly chubby girl who doesn't make much noise? Fuck, this is killing me. I hate my old ass computer. Fuck you, changing light bulbs. It's 2006, right? I was pissed when I wasn't issued a jetpack in 2000 (where's my fucking raygun?!?), but I figured by now technology would've at least advanced to the point where I don't have to stand on my wobbly chair and deal with this crap. Two bonus fuck yous: for scaring the crap out of me when I walk into a darkened room, innocently flick the switch and get momentarily blinded by that huge flash and terrifying pop! Also, for somehow convincing your lightbulb brethren to join you, causing a chain reaction that means I'm filled with fear whenever I turn on a light. Pop! Pop! Pop! What, did you all join in a suicide pact while I was asleep? Bastards. Fuck you, washing dishes. Yes, I know, you smell funny, and I know the longer I wait, the more weird slime stuff is just gonna accumulate on you. That's why I've pretty much switched to just using paper plates (fuck you, environment) and eating with my hands. I'm a caveman in an apartment. Finally, fuck you, writing this rant.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-05-10T00:18:48-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/159271352.html Fuck you, chores text Still trying to sell this piece of crap http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/147173269.html Now here's a winner that generated a lot of attention, but sat in my back yard for yet another week due to everybody who emailed me being a part of the shadow conspiracy designed to not come by the house and take the bike away. It's really not that much of a piece of crap. In fact, at thirty dollars, it's the best bike on this site. You can't hardly get a seat post for thirty dollars on CL, cause they're all made out of magic and will turn your fixed gear into a weightless rocket sled that gives head and has cruise control. But now you can. It's yours for exactly thirty dollars if you come get it THIS SATURDAY. Or any other day, really, but I'd like to emphasize Saturday cause I'll be around most of the day. You don't need to email me to ask where I live, if I still have it, or if you can come look at it some time next week cause you work all the time. Just start your car and email me your phone number so I can tell you how you can be the owner of the finest piece of crap for thirty bucks on Craigs list. Go look. It's also the ONLY bike for thirty bucks on CL. So that's your lucky number. Otherwise, good luck on the seatpost. Besides, you'll save heaps of bus fare by riding this pile. It's an old Magna, which easily translates into "peice of crap" to most biker people with fancy socks, but to you, it's wheels. The grip shifters work flawlessly, the brakes are good, the whole bike's pretty solid. The seat's looked better, the pedals are different, the back tire is from some other bike that a woman left in my yard one day after she got frustrated and abandoned it on her way home. From what I hear, she pushed it out of the moving car as she sped off away from the park down the street. But that's just the rear wheel in this scenario (Magnadrive). Not the whole Magna. But damned if the whole bike doesn't kick ass. It even manages to look half decent. I might even take less than thirty dollars for it if you can make up a good enough story or convince me that you're poorer than I am. Good luck with that, though. I'd trade the thing for the right bag of groceries, honestly, cause that's where the money's going anyway. Thanks.  <img src=147173269.1.jpg> <img src=147173269.2.jpg>  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around NW <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-04-01T02:01:57-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/147173269.html Still trying to sell this piece of crap text Austin Rants &amp; Raves In a Nutshell http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/140453529.html Person 1: I have a serious question/problem/rant/rave. Person 2: I have a serious response to your question/problem/rant/rave. Persons 3-15: I have some stupid one-liner, which includes the words "fucktard" "asshat" and/or "cumdumpster," that will razz person one and/or person two because I'm bored and have nothing better to do. Persons 16-27: I have some stupid one-liner, which includes the words "fucktard" "asshat" and/or "cumdumpster," plus an overused photo of balls/cum/guns/fat naked chicks to really razz person one, person two, and also persons 3-15, because I'm bored and have nothing better to do. Persons 28-46: Hey persons 16-27, you stole my photos. Don't be a thief. And by the way, here is a new pic of a tranny with Charlie's head to make you think twice about stealing my photos in the future. Persons 47-68: I think persons 3-46 are idiots and this board is pathetic. Person 69: I think persons 3-68 are all Lord Chaos, and he's ruining this once fabulous board. Person 70: Reality check, this board was never "fabulous." Fag. Person 71: The real Lord Chaos here, bow before me. Person 72: ROT here, sorry I haven't posted in a few hours, but aliens were probing my ass. Persons 73-75: I often read this board, but I never post, however today's board is so lame that I have to post about it, thus proving that I'm better than all who came before me. Person 76: I like to suck cock. Person 77: Corpus? Person 78-93: Corpus is a whore. All women are whores. So why haven't I been laid since that Kingdom Come show in '89. Person 94: All women are not whores. I am a woman and I own a house on land and I am not a whore. Person 95: No, you're just an ugly bitch. Bitch. Person 96: I have an embarrassing photo of person 71. Want to see? Person 97: I challenge person 71 to a duel at dawn at Deep Eddy, where no one (including myself) will show up. Person 98-99: Where is Deep Eddy? Person 100: Hiram has prepared a meal. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-09T13:07:59-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/140453529.html Austin Rants &amp; Raves In a Nutshell text PLEASE take my Jesus Plates http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/135744279.html I have a set of 6 "Faces of Jesus Collector's Plates" and I believe they are ruining my life. They were given to me by a very religious neighbor as a Christmas present. Ever since then, I've been having a stream of bad luck. Shortly there after, I broke off with my boyfriend, got a job transfer to a place I hate, had a bird poop on my head, AND I have remained celibant since the day I received those plates. That's right, ladies and gentlemen: I haven't gotten laid. I believe that by having these plates in my closet, and refusing to display them, I have created this ill luck for myself. Why don't I display them, you ask? That's because they creep me out. So, I figure the only way to clear up my karma is to give them away to someone who would proudly display them. Please, serious inquiries only. We are talking about my life, ESPECIALLY my sex life. Please do not respond if you plan on damaging them or using them in manner in which they are not meant to be used. If so, you will get horrible karma. Jesus doesn't play around. <img src=135744279.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-02-21T11:26:58-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/135744279.html PLEASE take my Jesus Plates text The Effects of Celibacy http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/125583198.html It has been less than a month since I broke up with my boyfriend, and it has been that long since I've gotten any sexual action. I'm not complaining. I've gone far longer without sex, and I'm sure there are many of you out there that have as well. In an effort to avoid sexual casualties, I'm not having meaningless, frivolous sex. I shall abstain. There is something about having sex on a daily basis, and then suddenly not having it anymore. It does something to you. It changes you. It's like having a cup of coffee twice a day, and then not having it anymore. You get headaches, right? So what happens when I don't get my daily dose of penis? Well, I've noticed the following series of maladies: 1. IRRITABILITY- Suddenly I'm aware of how annoying Eva Longoria is. I don't know what it is. Maybe it is the fact that she is representing us Latin actresses, but cannot seem to get a role that doesn't require her to be a "sex pot". What does that say about our culture? Where are the roles with substance? I know there are intelligent roles for Latin women, but there are few. I'm irritated. In addition, my impatience in everything is increasing. I was in line at the grocery store, and I was watching some kid tying his shoes for fifteen minutes. I almost lunged at him and tied them myself. Those two minutes I spend waiting for my cup-o-soup to heat up in the microwave are interminable. I attritute this new impatience and irritability to my celibacy. 2. BLURRED VISION- Does that sign say "slow for pedestians" or "glow on partisans"? I have dubbed the nickname "squinty." Do I need a stronger prescription of glasses? Would that cure the double vision? It can't be age related. I'm only 21. I shall attribute this new blurred vision to my celibacy. 3. SEXUAL SYMBOLISM - Everything around me has a sexual connotation. Is it just me, but is Marge Simpson's hair do a phallic symbol? George W. Bush's face looks like a vagina. Trees? Phallic. Pumping gas into my car? Oh so sexual. Skyscrapers? Phallic. Hotdogs? Phallic. Even my neighbor looks like a walking penis with his shaven head. I attribute this to my celibacy. 4. INCORRECT GRAMMAR- You cannot imagine how many times I've spell checked this document. Is it spelled "grammar" or "grammer"? Do I use a comma or a semi-colon? I've never had this problem before. I attribute any occurences of incorrect grammar to my celibacy. 5. GERIATRIC MAGNETISM- Suddenly, everywhere I go I'm surrounded by old people. I'm talking about 70+. I don't have a problem with senior citizens, but I find it a strange occurence that they navigate towards me. Hell, I was at a club on college night last Thursday, and there was Sean Connery looking fellow standing beside me. WTF??? It's as if they can sense the unuse of genitalia and they think I'm one of them. I attribute this new geriatric magnetism to my celibacy. 6. THE DESIRE TO OWN A CAT - That homeless tabby looks so cute. Maybe I'll take him in. What? Wait a damn minute. . .I'm allergic! Why the hell do I suddenly want a cat? I shall attribute this strange desire to my celibacy. 7. DRIVING AT A SLOWER SPEED- I've always been a speed demon on the road, but lately I've been having old ladies in Lincoln Towncars pass me while giving me the finger. 80 miles an hour on the highway? No siree Spongebob! I drive at a solid 60 mph now. Why? I don't know, but I'll go ahead and attribute my slower speed to my celibacy. 8. KNITTING- I'm sitting in front of my television watching a riveting episode of House. I look down. There is a ball of yarn on my lap and I'm holding two needles. How did the yarn get there? And when did I learn how to knit? I attribute this phenomenon to my celibacy. 9. MASTERY OF PUZZLES- Jigsaw, crossword, cryptograms, or whatever. Somehow I'm an expert. I attribute this to my celibacy. 10. DECLINE OF HUMOR- Suddenly I'm not as funny or as clever as I used to be. I'm no longer on top of my game. My keen observations of the trivialties of life have turned into inane ramblings. I was once sharp, but now I'm dull. I'll consider this a phase, and I will attribute this to my celibacy. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-01-15T16:47:19-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/125583198.html The Effects of Celibacy text new year's resolutions for the single straight male diner - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/119961951.html Hi. I'm a middle-aged guy who regularly comes into where you work and eats (or drinks coffee) alone. Usually I'll also be reading the paper or working on my computer. As you may have noticed, there are THOUSANDS of me out here. As you've also noticed, we all really want you to like us, because you're pretty and nice and (usually) younger than we are by at least a decade. More often than not, you're also good at your job, so we know intellectually that your niceness is probably more professional than personal. But on some level we desperately want to believe that there's something more going on, that you secretly find us fascinating and attractive and would love to get to know us better. Maybe you do. I'm a nice guy, I have all my hair, I listen to some of the same bands you do, and it's not completely absurd to think that if we were thrown together by circumstance -- a sudden thunderstorm, say, or a terrorist attack -- we would find that we have much in common, and maybe even fall rapturously in love. Anything's possible. And. Yet. Because I respect you and like you, and because I respect and like myself, I have made the following New Year's resolutions, which I invite my fellow middle-aged single straight male diners to join me in observing: 1) I won't expect you to remember my name, my usual order, or my personal history. If you do, that's great, but I will always be aware that you see hundreds of people every day and that I am only one of them. If I see you outside of where you work, I won't assume that you recognize me. 2) I won't use your name except to greet you or get your attention, and I will never use it in conversation with other people to make it sound like I know you better than I do. 3) I won't tell you long stories or indulge in self-serving monologues while you have other customers or prepwork to attend to. 4) I will always tip at least 20 percent, and more if I'm taking up a whole four-top during a rush. 5) I will not make any comments, however complimentary, about your body or your face. I will allow myself to compliment you on beautiful or unusual jewelry or tattoos, or on your hair IF I'm a regular and you have recently changed it in a particularly noticeable way. If I have questions or comments about what's on your T-shirt, I will address them to you while looking directly into your eyes. Having established what's on the shirt, I will not let my gaze linger on it further. 6) I will NEVER, EVER ask you out while you're working. I assume that if you're really interested in me, you'll figure out a way to let me know. But I can leave and you can't, so as far as I'm concerned, you've got the ball. 7) I won't bring you gifts unless we have together clearly created a context for this through many previous conversations, and even then the gift will not be embarrassingly valuable. (E.g., I might bring you a snowglobe from Branson, Missouri, if Branson has become a running joke between us over the course of several weeks or months.) 8) If I do bring you such a gift, I will not read acceptance of said gift as proof that you are harboring deeper feelings for me. 9) I will ask you how you're doing and I will listen to the answer. I will never ask, "Are you in a bad mood?" 10) I won't sit over my third coffee/beer/flan and make sad eyes at you while you're trying to work. 11) I will reserve the right to treasure, deep in the darkest recesses of my ravaged heart, the incandescent possibility that someday we will share a sleeping car on the Orient Express as part of our yearlong trip around the world. But I will never inflict this dazzling vision on you without explicit permission. It's the least I can do for you. You rock. So, guys: Are you with me? Let's make 2006 the best year for interactions between cute waitresses and single straight middle-aged dudes EVER! Full of eggs and wist, A Regular webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-22T13:35:30-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/119961951.html new year's resolutions for the single straight male diner - m4w text why does this piss me off so much? GET IT RIGHT... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/111508160.html because it's fucking pathetic!! lose - the opposite of win, to misplace something, ONE FUCKING O loose - the opposite of tight, your mother/wife/sister, TWO FUCKING O's how can so many people get these two confused? IDIOTS your - a possessive, similar to mine, his, her as in "your loose slut of a sister loses her mind every time she gets railroaded by your whole inbred, shitbag excuse of a family", NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE you're - a contraction of "you are", as in "you're a dipshit", A FUCKING APOSTROPHE its - another possessive, similar to your, NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE it's - a contraction of "it is", as in 'it's fucking simple', A FUCKING APOSTROPHE Need a trick? Fine - when using it's or you're, expand the contraction. If "you're head is full of shit" becomes "you are head is full of shit" and doesn't make any sense (maybe it will to you because you're a fucking idiot), then you are using the wrong word. Queef. to - a preposition, as in "turn to the right" or "it's time to go back to school", ONE FUCKING O too - an adverb (know what that is?), synonymous with "also", "as well" as in "Really? I went to college too. I actually read a FUCKING BOOK." It can also be used to mean "to a regrettable degree" as in "It's too late for you, moron", TWO FUCKING O's two - a number, it comes after one there - an adverb, similar to here as in "your tiny bus is over there" their - yet another possessive, similar to your as in "it's not their fault that you're a fucking retard. It's YOUR fault." they're - a contraction of "they are" as in "they're not responsible for your complete ignorance of YOUR OWN FUCKING LANGUAGE. READ A BOOK!!" IT'S NOT FUCKING HARD, DOUCHE BAGS. By the way, grammar is spelled with TWO FUCKING A's. So next time you want to flame someone for bad "grammer", at least spell it right. Fucks. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-11-15T17:20:08-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/111508160.html why does this piss me off so much? GET IT RIGHT... text Die Spinny Hubcap Thingys!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/105011536.html I know you've seen them. They're popping up everywhere. You know, those newfangled hubcaps that have the spinning gizmos on them that keep on spinning when the car has stopped? I hate them. I am, uh, y'know, middle aged. Learned to drive back in the early 70's. I'm careful, courteous and I use my turn signal. Boring? Hell, NO! I've simply learned that "nice drivers" live longer. Until now. Somewhere along the line, my brain has taught my slowly degrading eyeballs to subtly monitor the other vehicles with which I am sharing the road. For example, almost subconsciously I sense brake lights several vehicles ahead and anticipate a slow down by removing my foot from the gas pedal. Sense flashing lights in the sideview mirror? The 18-wheeler next to me might be trying to change lanes, so I'll slow down a bit. No real concentration involved -- simply a set of conditioned reflexes related to evasive actions which I've developed over the years behind the wheel. I've always considered them assets. No more. My reflexes have suddenly become deadly foes. All because of spinny hubcaps. You see, my reflexes tell me that WHEN A CAR IS NOT MOVING, ITS WHEELS ARE ALSO NOT MOVING!!!! Conversely, IF THE WHEELS ARE GOING 90MPH, THE FU&*(%$# CAR IS NOT SITTING STILL!!!! WHEELS TURNING = MOVING CAR. Simple. HA! Last week, I was travelling on the service road, through a major freeway intersection. To my left, a U-Turn lane allowed cars from the opposite side to merge with oncoming traffic in my lane. These cars normally yield to such oncoming traffic (i.e., ME). As I proceeded forward, I caught sight of a car to my left failing to yield, and about to barrel into my lane. Instinctively, I veered sharply to my right to avoid being hit (causing the car immediately to my right to veer sharply to ITS right, ad nauseum). Problem was, the offending car HAD yielded. Its hubcaps had not. (My abject apologies to those I almost killed by trying to avoid this near-collision with a stationary vehicle). I don't normally make sudden lane changes without signalling, and I completely understand your desire to curse and wave at me with your middle fingers). Today was the final straw. I was standing on the sidewalk bordering my office building's parking lot. Landscaping bushes behind me and parking spaces in front. Suddenly, and without warning, a vehicle turned sharply into the very parking space adjacent to where I was standing. In a moment of panic, I realized that the car WAS NOT GOING TO STOP. THE WHEELS WERE TURNING TOO FAST! I WOULD BE NAILED! I did what any normal, middle-aged, red-blooded American woman would do when the urges for survival and self-preservation kick in. I jumped head-first into the bushes. There were several people in the parking lot. All they saw was a normal-looking woman suddenly go bug-fucking nuts, scream, and dive into a ligustrum, and come out cursing about hubcaps. So, please, young people with small foreign cars (or sparkly-painted pickups) -- do not buy spinny hubcaps. They are evil and they are scaring innocent old women and making them do stupid things. If you want to drive a "cool" car and get noticed, take a clue from my generation and do something truly revolutionary...... Get Glasspaks!! webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-10-18T15:31:09-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/105011536.html Die Spinny Hubcap Thingys!! text Please Date My Human Companion http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/102982188.html My name’s Matilda, but most of the time my friends call me “Wee.” I just moved back to Austin from Alaska. I’m five years old, with brown eyes, and I’m black. Not exotic, like from the Caribbean or Africa black, Labrador black. Anyway, this is not about me, this is about my Human Companion. She’s really cute, about 5’10’’ with long brown hair. Anyway, I want to tell you about her because I think there are a lot of reasons you should date her: 1. My HC is totally not getting what she needs from girlfriends alone. I mean, of course they are invaluable, but there are obvious areas where girlfriends don’t cut it, and HC’s girlfriends are, well, girly. They’re, like, the sort who watch The Notebook and Must Love Dogs and stuff - hello - gag. But my HC is more the if-something-isn’t-blowing-up-in-the-first-fifteen-minutes-I’m-getting-bored and knows-all-the-lines-in-Super-Troopers type. 2. My HC is totally non-judgmental. I know, you’re like, “this is about you being black, isn’t it?” What is it with you humans and that stuff? Look, it’s important if you have a sucky personality, if you’re forehead-slappingly crackbrained, or if you have rather unfortunate personal hygiene habits, but it’s not important what color you are. Anyway, can you remember where I was before I started ranting? Ah, yes-HC is non-judgmental. See, I have this personal thing. Ok, I’ll say it… I’m a little paunchy in places. But, HC is totally cool with it. In fact, she calls my fatty bits “ploopy,” isn’t that cute? To hear her talk about it, you’d think ploopy was the solution to the world’s problems. I think this is evidence that HC is a highly-evolved life-form. 3. My HC used to have this guy around that I called “dad,” really only because it seemed to make her happy, but really I know he wasn’t my dad. Anyway, the dude didn’t like Sports Center, I mean, is that even legal? She needs dudes who are low-key and not looking for a long-term, let’s talk about our feelings, kind of thing. 4. A girl’s gotta’ eat. I mean, if she tries to pass celery and peanut butter off as a meal one more time, I’m calling someone. I’m not kidding, people, my paw is this close- THIS CLOSE. It’s not like she can’t afford something better, I get high-quality stuff in my bowl, man. And she’s not one of those super-lame, new-diet-every-week, afraid-to-eat girls, either; she’s a healthy eater, maybe even too healthy, if you know what I mean. I think she just needs you to take her to your favorite place and show her how it’s done. 5. Because God is fair. I mean look, yes she got a little too comfortable in her last relationship - what you’re perfect - and yes she isn’t the uber-athlete she used to be, but seriously, man, her boobs are nice. N I C E. And that’s my point, God is fair, you get a big butt, you also get luscious boobs. I seem to recall such things are important to you male-types. Of course, me, I’m a virgin, something about “being a responsible pet owner,” whatever that means…but I digress. 6. My HC is running out of cool hobbies to pick up and I seriously do not want this getting out of control. She already travels, I mean, we DID live in Alaska for crying out loud, and she speaks French from when she lived there forever ago. She takes me hiking all the time, we watch a lot of college football and movies. She likes listening to music, and doesn’t get all pretentious about what is “cool” to like and just digs the scene. She has lots of awesome friends who she hangs out with, so it’s not like she’s moping around longing for a man to “complete” her or something. And she just did her first triathlon-I was so proud of her, she’s an ass kicker. Really what I’m saying here is that I’d like to nip this “solo” thing she has going in the bud, before it starts down the path to crazy-town… ‘cause I hate cats, man, and she’s allergic, so this is a pre-emptive attack type thing… I am stealthy like a ninja… I creep in under cover of darkness using super-spy skills… ok, off vector again. 7. Because honestly, man, I am doing you a favor here. HC is a cool chic who is doing perfectly fine without you in her life, but maybe you’re cool too and just want to eat some meals and have some fun. She’s not prim, so you might even get lucky, who knows. If her history is any indication, once she decides she’s ready, she’ll be back off the market in a snap, so this is really the best time to act, you know, while she’s not really thinking about it too seriously. So anyway, I look forward to meeting you. Don’t tell her I told you all this stuff ‘cause she doesn’t know anything about you yet and it will make her a little self-conscious. If you seem non-skeezy in your email, I can unbury my favorite picture of her and send it to you. Oh, and if I sniff your ass when you come over to pick my HC up, don’t be offended, it’s just my way of saying hello. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-10-09T16:01:36-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/102982188.html Please Date My Human Companion text Witty statement or question that attracts your attention http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/99681433.html Stock greeting that doesn't sound stupid - Standard self-introduction including name, age, and gender. Indication that I'm new here and it's been fucking hard to meet people. Ongoing display of false confidence to avoid scaring off the cool people. Tone of playful indifference that masks the bitterness and misery that accompany loneliness. Broad-ranging list of personal interests in an admittedly pathetic attempt to have something in common with you. Haughty and cliched (but genuine) mention of disregard for all mainstream forms of media. Obligatory inclusion of specific cult-classic movie titles and possibly trendy underground rock group names. Deliberate smattering of expletives to offend and filter out uptight cunt-baskets. End of paragraph. Enthusiastic-sounding closing statement that ties everything together and gets to the meat of the issue: that I want to "hang out" with you as soon as possible. Desire to not betray reality and sound too desperate. Realization that even a little cleverness, tact, correct grammar, and spelling ability should be enough to stand out on CL. Postscript (after you thought it was over) conveying a seemingly innocent confusion as to why my picture doesn't display. Smug assurance that no one will realize I used a 1x1 white gif so that "pic" would show up by my post title. Annoyingly familiar statement indicating a trade of pictures is possible. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-24T11:58:01-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/99681433.html Witty statement or question that attracts your attention text Craig’s List Top 10 M4W Personal Ads http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/96936233.html 1. I’m so tired of the bar scene! Obviously, this has nothing to do with my being tired of drinking beer and staring at your ass, it has to do with the fact that I’m getting too old and drunk to get anyone to come home with me anymore. I’ve also realized that peeling a girl off the bar where she’s passed out is not the best way to meet one with Marriage Material. 2. I want an outdoorsy girl! Let’s go hiking, swimming, fishing, running, sailing, canoeing, camping, mountain climbing, bungee jumping, skydiving, spelunking, deep-sea diving, and so on until we’re so completely exhausted that we don’t even have the energy to have sex. It will help if we both take steroids. 3. Nice guys still exist! Who, me? Just wanting to get into your pants? No way! I’m the “nice guy” that all the girls say they want, but never actually fuck! All you girls just want the "bad boys." I’m so sick of having my hot friends cry on my shoulders about their asshole boyfriends. Why doesn’t anyone ever want me? I’m here! I do exist! Love me! Trust me, I’m the ONLY guy on Craig’s List who isn’t just trying to get into your pants. 4. I’m so old fashioned. That’s right—I know all the romantic, decent, passionate ways to get into your pants. I’ll pull out your chair, hold the door open for you, and send you dozens of roses. When I drop you off and give you a polite kiss on the cheek and thank you for a wonderful evening, our eyes will meet and I’ll just know deep inside from that special look in your eyes that soon enough, you’ll be letting me do you up the ass. 5. I’ll be your sugar daddy. I’m just some dried-up old creep who will probably make your skin crawl when you touch me, but I work at Dell and I have enough money to woo some pathetic University of Texas co-ed into giving me a hand job every now and then in exchange for a new wardrobe from Urban Outfitters. Shoot me a pic and your PayPal account number. 6. I’m scary commitment guy. Aren’t there any women out there who actually want to spend the rest of their lives with someone? Girls always say they want commitment, but then they say no when I propose. On our second date, I expect to have our children’s names picked out. If you can’t handle that, then don’t respond. I’m a REAL man and I want a REAL woman who still believes that REAL love is possible! 7. I can use free concert tickets to get laid. I have an extra ticket to see John Mayer, and I don’t have anyone to go with me. More accurately, I’m lonely and I can’t get laid, so I bought an extra ticket so that some freeloading bitch will be my date just to see a free concert. At least let me get to second base; the tickets cost me $65! 8. Did you know that shallow assholes can float? We’re a bunch of completely shallow losers, but one of us owns a boat, and so we’d like to look really cool on the lake this weekend with a bunch of Playboy-type girls drinking beer and grinding to the top 40 on the bow of our boat. Send us a recent pic of you in a bikini and we’ll decide if you’re hot enough to impress the other shallow assholes on boats. 9. I will suddenly and unexpectedly throw in an unrealistic weight requirement. I just really want a down-to-earth girl. We can cuddle and watch movies, go out and eat, go bowling, whatever. I’m up for anything! Let’s just enjoy each other’s company and see where it goes. (You must be under 120 pounds.) 10. Every girl I’ve ever dated has been crazy! I refuse to think that I’m only attracted to psychos, or *gasp* that I might be perceiving everyone else as crazy when in fact I’m the one who’s nuts. Rather, I choose to believe that by pure coincidence, all of my exes have just been completely fucking nuts! Are there any normal girls out there with zero drama? I’m so sick of these incredibly hot girls with perfect bodies who turn out to be mentally unstable; I’m ready for an incredibly hot girl with a perfect body who I can MARRY. Are you out there? webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-12T00:02:28-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/96936233.html Craig’s List Top 10 M4W Personal Ads text To the waitress that I disgraced http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/94991616.html Listen, you know who you are if you're reading this. I don't usually throw up on pool tables. Or in the corner where nobody's looking. Or on good people like yourself. My friend insisted I do one more tequila shot with him, which turned into 6 more. I had just eaten a plate of spaghetti, which I knew was a mistake at about the 4th shot. I'm pretty sure you're right about that stain not coming out of you shirt, but if you let me, I'd love to buy you a new one, and maybe dinner. I promise I won't throw it up on you this time. Oh and my friend didn't call you a horrid bitch. He said you look a lot like his sister, who he called a horrid bitch since she just wrecked his 87 Pulsar. He loved that car. As I'm sure you felt the same about your shirt. You understand no doubt. <img src=/about/best/images/94991616.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-02T09:59:41-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/94991616.html To the waitress that I disgraced text Stupid People Will Inherit the Earth http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/90814176.html Careful observation has convinced me that a large majority of people on the planet are of very low intelligence, while a minority are somewhere between reasonably intelligent and brilliant. Unfortunately for the human race, the percentage of idiots seems to be climbing. For example, I recently read a magazine article about this "debate" over whether the universe was intelligently designed or not, and some even suggest that religious myth should be taught alongside science. It included discussion about the notion that the earth is only 6,000 years old and that all life was created in 6 days, etc. All completely ludicrous of course, in view of all the factual evidence. Get me started on that and I could go all day. What the problem boils down to is this: One of the most grievous mistakes made by people who flunked their science classes in high school is that they can't grasp that scientific theories in physics, biology, geology, astronomy, etc. are fact-based and rigorously tested. (Unlike certain imaginary religious hallucinations, including things appearing and disappearing by magic, walking dead, planetwide floods, miracles, etc.) A certain lunatic faction wants to throw out science in favor of .... well, exactly what would you call it .... I can't really figure it out! This would be like teaching voodoo instead of medicine or teaching astrology instead of astrophysics. How could something like this be allowed to happen? Simple. You find enough ignorant people and convince them of something (like bigfoot being kidnapped by UFOS) and some of them will believe it. These people often make the comment that "Evolution is just a theory - not a fact". This is patently incorrect. If you understand the definition of scientific theory, you'll never be dumb enough to make that statement. If you do make that statement, my question to you is: Where were you when the rest of us were in class? The religious view of the world once was that the earth was the center of the universe and everything revolved around it. Science eventually corrected this erroneous superstition, so now we can shoot things out into space and hit targets moving thousands of miles per hour over years of travel. Religion once held that illnesses were caused by evil spirits. Science corrected these mistakes and we understand about the true causes of disease. Thanks, scientific theory! Right? Well, maybe not. Depends on just how dumb you are. Modern evolutionary theory is again and again proven and tested by biological discoveries including the human genome project and countless advanced discoveries in genetics, immunology, endocrinology, etc. But still, there are people who don't get it. Hello.....where do you think vaccines came from? Answer: evolutionary theory, which is the backbone of modern biology. The reason you and millions of other people don't have polio. Get it? There is no question that evolution happens. As for the question of whether some implacable intelligence designed and built everything just the way it is? Impossible to say. There is zero evidence. But if it did happen, think more deeply. What kind of intelligence would create a parasite that makes your brain rot? Or a disorder which makes a child age and fall apart by the time it's 9 or so years old? How do you explain the fact that most pregnancies are spontaneously aborted in the early stages? There are a thousand examples of living organisms which cause horrible disease and untold suffering. You have to credit your intelligent designer for all that stuff too. Send him, or her, or it a thank you letter for multiple sclerosis while you're at it. The leader of the free world and arbiter of "morality", George Bush, has for some reason decided he wants to have something to say about this non-issue. This is a person who apparently has two brain cells (and one of them is out somewhere looking for the other one), and is going to make the supremely asinine suggestion to place superstition before the fundamentals of modern science, and suggest that we teach the notion of "intelligent design" in classrooms. Spare me. Please God. Tell me I'm dreaming. Apparently many of your children do not see your incredibly elegant and awe-inspiring design for life to evolve over billions of years; the indisputable process our scientists now understand as evolution. As long as we're talking, God, don't you feel disappointed in those who DON'T make an effort, through science, to use the gift of brain and faculties you allowed to evolve, to understand the true nature of the awe and beauty of your works? I personally thank you for the ability to understand. Some apparently missed it along the way. Let us pray the stupid shall not inherit the earth. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-08-13T10:48:43-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/90814176.html Stupid People Will Inherit the Earth text Cute bitch sitting shotgun in my bad ass Lincloln - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/90079162.html You: Sitting on my black, LEATHER passenger seat in my 1990 LTC. You were wearing those green shoes with white polka dots that some other chick had on that one night. Remember that? You got all pissy about it. I know you were wearing pants and a shirt and all that other bullshit that you refuse to take off in my presence. Me: Stupid mohawk and some sort of shirt and...shorts?...fuck...yeah, shorts. I was sitting next to you in the driver's seat. I had a steering wheel in front of me. I was the guy driving you around. I wanted to kiss you so violently bad. I mean, I dun it before, but, you know...you have a vagina. Vaginas are the part of the human body that emit signals to the penis-owning human's brain that create chaos with the reasoning functions of conscious thought. The penis-owning human becomes confused and the 'fear of rejection' monster (located two inches inward from the cold sweaty eyebrows) gnashes it's teeth, and the testicles dance with the tango of possible sperm freedom and possible denial-followed by anger-followed by masturbation-followed by bitter sperm freedom. The penis-owning (I call it my weiner gift) human, broken by the vagina's powerful scramble, shuts down and wonders quietly "what is this bitch thinking? Is it cool if I touch her booby? Am I breathing too loud? Fuck. I was breathing too loud." Alas, I went home and masturbated with my new conditioner. My penis (weiner) is soft and shiney and full of bounce. I have you and the void within, formerly known as self confidence, to thank. I hate me. Tootles. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-08-09T23:09:27-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/90079162.html Cute bitch sitting shotgun in my bad ass Lincloln - m4w text Single Blue Bike seeks someone to ride her - VINTAGE http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/89553934.html <img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a171/katlam429/portrait1.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"> <table width="70%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tr> <td>Single Blue Bike seeks somone to ride her into the sunset. I'm Debbie Schwinn , in my late 40's, and newly divorced. From a g-d-bastard. Dang it. I wasn't going to mention that SOB. But you think you know someone after 25 years of marriage. One minute you're cruising along just fine, enjoying the scenery together, and then the next minute he tells you he's met someone else. Not just ANYONE else, mind you. Someone younger with more gears. And Calliper brakes. Bastard. Ok, so I'm no spring chicken, but I prefer the term Vintage. I may have been around the blocks a few times--but honey, I'm ready to roll. Check out these curves and tell me I'm not one fine looking chick: </td> </tr> </table> <img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a171/katlam429/portrait2.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"> Look at my chain guard and my set of rims! You won't get dirty riding me! (That is, of course, unless you want to...) <img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a171/katlam429/debbie.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"> Short for Deborah. <img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a171/katlam429/bell.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"> Ringa-ding-DING! <img src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a171/katlam429/tireplug.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"> Just try and show me a new bike with these tire caps. They don't make 'em like they used to! <table width="70%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tr> <td> And now, for a limited time offer, I'm yours for only $50! Email me. I'm waiting for you. RRRRRRRWWWWOWRRRRRRRR! Update! Wow! I knew I was good lookin', but thanks to all who responded for that confidence booster! There are just too many to choose from at random, and besides that's no fun, so I thought I'd make it a little more interesting. Announcing the: "Win Debbie's Heart Poetry Contest" If you are still interested in winning my wheels, please write your best poem on my two favorite topics: Time Travel and Marshmallows. The writer that impresses me the most shall have first dibs, and if he/she decides to pass, then on to the next best. Also, to answer questions, I have 3 speeds, and my pedals do the braking. A lady won't tell what year she was born (besides, I don't know, my mama wouldn't tell me. I think it was in the 60's). I am in pretty good shape with minor issues like a small tear in the seat (whoops! Dang those marshmallows) and some dings here and there. Yes, too, I am probably worth more than I'm asking, and thanks for the heads up, I appreciate it. But now with so many suitors hot on my tail I'd be a tease to raise it at this point. OK-- here's the small type: Keep it clean, y'all. I am a lady. Poetry contest submissions should be received by Saturday, August 13th, 2005 at 12:00 noon. Write in whatever style and to whatever length you feel suits your vision. Let me know if I can share your poem with the Craigslist community. On your mark. Get set. Go! Love, Debbie Schwinn -------------------------- Announcing the Winner! Here is the winning poem in all its glory: My Heart Belongs to Debbie Way back last spring one sunny day when all the birds were singing I heard a small and distant sound, a tiny bell a'ringing I stepped out from my little house and listened on the wind And sure enough I heard that bell calling out again And so I walked a'followin' that sound that'd caught my ear And found her there at the end of the street all blue with three small gears Her name was Debbie and her silver rims filled my heart with glee Just standing there with her pretty curves she seemed to wink at me And so I did what anyone would do in such a pickle I pulled out my pocket book and offer up each nickel I bought that lovely lady blue and when I climbed on board We cruised along so pleasantly, oh lordly how we soared Faster and faster on we flew as the evening sunset glowed And suddenly I noticed that her tires had left the road We flew up through the amber air the birds and trees below Her bell a'ringing on the breeze her silver chrome a'glow And when we touched back to the earth with darkness all around My old familiar neighborhood was nowhere to be found We started up the bumpy trail toward a distant glow Just me and my brave gal Deb so steady and so slow And when we reached the source of light, oh joy of joys beheld us A town of white all mushy puffed and sticky sweet compelled us Each car, each tree, each church bell tower a fluffy, puffy pillow This town was made entirely of gooey white marshmallow! We wheeled into the soft town square and pulled up by a river Of fluffy white cream flowing by - the sight gave me a shiver And there we met a smiling chap who said his name was Treavor I said "so tell me Trev, old boy, to what do we owe the pleasure?" "Can you please explain to me, and to my sweet girl Deb here, Just how we could have stumbled on this lovely gooey town dear?" With one look at my Debbie girl he said "The answer's plain as day!" "For certainly no ordinary bike could have flown all this way…" "Your Debbie's fast as lightning miss, she's strong and wild as fire, "Your Debbie is a special gal, a rare and bold time flyer!" He said he could tell from my clothes that I was from a long lost day And that me and my Debbie girl were in the future far away I looked around and blinked my eyes so awed I found it hard to stand The future was full of fluffy puff a pillowy billowy wonderland What year is this? I had to know, how soon will the earth be lovely and white? "Why does it matter?" dear Treavor said "just fly back any time you like!" So now I spend each day and night a'riding with my bold blue honey I have no need for rushin' round or trying to make big bags of money For I know what the future holds, it's white and soft and oh so mellow Can't wait to ride my shiny gal into that land of soft white pillow! Now you may love your pick-up truck or think your yacht is clever Perhaps you fancy motorbikes through fair or stormy weather And some would choose to fly a jet from here to old Entebbe But my heart belongs to my Baby Blue, to my one, my only, Debbie! ------------------------------ Other Submissions: I don't like time travel. I think too many people think about it. Now is where I choose. The moment of now is where I can't loose. In the future I'd love to see you. Looking back on our past. ages of me and you in the grass. Millenium have gone by without you in my arms. Will another day go by without any of your charms? I think it will but that's okay. For our time travel we will not pay! ---------------------- Dear Debbie If I'm still interested in winning your wheels you ask? I'm only interesting in winning your heart! Ever since the day I heard of you and the way you fired up without a spark. I haven't forgotten you…and here in LA, I've thought about you more as I try to park. I'm over the LA traffic, the Jags, the Beemers. But with you, traffic will be easy, even if that makes me a dreamer. I know you love the thought of time travel which is fine, s,o bare with me as I take you back to when I was 9. A poem this may be but it's nonfiction for me. The 1st time I saw you was with my sister's mean friend Janie… she had pigtails and a back pack and thought she was a hottie. I watched her peddle you through the streets and up and down my yard. I even remember running after you when you were nearly hit by a car! I know you saw my love as I grimaced when she threw you down. I wanted to have you but you were Junior high bound. The days went by as saw you laying on my drive ..but we could never be together or my sister I would have been skinned alive. I dreamt of steeling you and peddling off into the night but you never seemed to leave the girls' sight.. To this day Janie tells me stories of my crush and my love. However she'll never know the truth. That which I loved she was riding above! I only hope that this time that has passed, will not stop me from riding you, oh so fast. I had dreams as a child of jumping you off the pier but now as an adult, please know I wouldn't dare! I promise you happiness and security from the cold and rain. Just come back to me so we can share that spark, again. Much like a Marshmallow hot off the fire…Enjoying you too early could possibly burn. I've waited patiently, now it's my turn. -------------------------------- First time I saw Deb I met her on the web It felt just like time travel Things just started to unravel I heard you like marshmellow And I wish I was your fellow If we ever meet It will be like destiny -------------------------------- My Dearest Debbie, I know we have never met, or that we may never will. I am only writing this sweet sorrowful letter because I believe our hearts are one in the same. True, your beauty had caught my eye. Oh How I have been searching for you. But alas your love for marshmallows (or at least your love and endurance for people who ride you and love marshmallows) is what truly took my breath away. I only wish I could turn the clock back and visit this website sooner so that I would not have missed the deadline to write you a poem about our mutual passions. Oh But your beauty is so intoxicating; I can feel the words tingling at my fingertips dieing to escape. Yes, yes… I will write you a poem. It is how I will end our brief but memorable affair. Debbie oh Debbie My sweet marshmallows It sounds like we both married Miserable fellows To turn back the clock And travel through time I might have done anything To make you mine --------------------------------------------- Dear Debbie, First off, this is not a poem about time travel or marshmellos. This isn't even a poem, so I fear I might disappoint you right out of the gate. Also, I'm female, and while your ad didn't implicately state what gender you were seeking a relationship with, it's obvious you're a girlie girl, and I can only hope you will entertain the notion of partnering up with someone as gigglely and gleeful as you must surely be, when stroked properly. I know you must be entertaining countless offers by now -- that other, flashier, riders with better pedigrees and filigree words will jump to perform for you, hoping to win your heart, but I know that if I try to win your favor pretending to be something I'm not, neither of us really win. What I can offer you is honesty, my longing laid bare -- and If you like what you see there, maybe there is a future for us. When I read about what you had been through, a lump formed in my throat. I would never leave you, Debbie, no matter how wide your seat. When I saw you, my heart skipped a beat. You were a dead ringer for my very first love -- right down to the blue hue of your shapely frame. My happiest childhood memories center around her. Long afternoons spent winding through Indiana backroads, between green fields of ripened corn, and flying down impossibly high hills thinking nothing of their steepness as my hair took flight in the breeze and my mind emptied of all thought -- my first true glimpse of freedom. Do I want to recapture, reclaim and restore a bit of my childhood with you? YES, I do. But only the happiest part. Yes, it's true, she was older than me, but she taught me things that no new bike ever could. How to surrender to adventure. How to escape. How to fly. The beauty of craftsmanship. That when things are built properly and well cared for, they last forever...and become living art. It was never the age that came between us, it was circumstance. Fifteen years later, and in my happiest dreams, I still fly. I don't want to give you the impression that when I look at you I am only seeing her. You are clearly your own unique creature, with a personality and style all your own. In time we would build a whole new history together, sharing bonding moments over blazed trails. I don't want to mislead you into thinking I'm perfect either. I don't write poetry and can't woo you with fancy words, though it's obvious you are flush with all the newfound and well-deserved attention. And there will be moments when I am too tired or sore to go out, pausing to gaze at your stationary beauty instead. Even now I sit here with a broken back end. But I am on the mend, and it won't keep me from taking you out and showing you the world with new eyes. Well, there you have it, Debbie. I hope you can see past my flaws into my most sincere heart, that is longing for you. But if you decide to choose someone else, I will understand -- though seeing you in the arms of another will be difficult to bear. You have to do what's right for you. Just forgive me if I catch a glimpse of you out with them someday, wince and turn away. Good luck as you begin your new venture into the great and grand unknown, Debbie. ------------------------------ Thanks to all who wrote in! I'm going to assume that all the "Is it still available? Call me ###-####..." messages weren't poems and "NO ISSUES! = anon-90######@craigslist.org" wasn't some sort of put-down. I've found a lovely person to live with now, and had a blast getting love letters (who wouldn't!). Kisses to you all, and I'll be seeing you! Love, Debbie </td> </tr> </table> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-08-07T16:39:30-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/89553934.html Single Blue Bike seeks someone to ride her - VINTAGE text My Roommate and his Loathsome Cat http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/82898962.html As I watch you rotate like a useless convenience store hot dog on my new leather sofa, I am struck by your insensitivity. Your crime was thoughtless which makes the pain all the more acute. I watch the crumbs spread out in your beard in a diasporal manner and contemplate the many ways to end your life. As you right hand clutches my last remaining pop-tart I am reminded of a bloated bear invading a campsite and then falling asleep at said campsite with the goods still in hand. Not that this was your first encroachment on my territory. Apparently not satisfied with the potency of your Hi Karate cologne you decided to help yourself to my Calvin Klein Eternity for men. A few squirts would have been fine. A half-bottle later our apartment smelled like the bathroom at Studio 54. Your disco shoes and cavalier attitude matched perfectly. As I dream of your quick demise I am flooded with another memory of a past indiscretion. Your foray into my bed with your rotund sweetheart while I was out of town still creates such sweet revulsion. My sheets, well irrigated with your lover’s fishy oil, brought explosive tears to my eyes. I embarked on the Sisyphean task of washing and stain removal but to no avail. Alas, I sacrificed the tainted sheets to the gods of Goodwill. I still suffer immeasurable guilt thinking of the poor bastard who now snuggles his face next to that tuna essence – dreaming of finding Nemo. While your worthless cat eats the crumbs out of your raggedy beard I envision its next shit that will remain in the litter box for eons. As the mouser smiles at me and licks its shitty paws I can hear its digestive system forming a handsomely sized log which I will be forced to scoop out of the litter box due to toxic fumes permeating the living room. I can’t help but think that in certain countries cats are a delicacy. Mr. Whiskers here should be no exception. Die Mr. Whiskers! Die roommate! webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-07-07T00:37:09-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/82898962.html My Roommate and his Loathsome Cat text Lazy girl seeks same in boy form http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/82797404.html so i'm about to turn 26...so this year i'm trying something different...the unadulterated truth...a list of my 10 worst qualities...here it is...in all its vile detail...this is not a plea of desperation...just simply one of boredom... 1. so...i like sleeping...a lot...i like couch time...i like just laying around...i'm not thoroughly opposed to getting off my ass...i go for walks sometimes...but i don't want some spunky work out nut running circles around me...i want someone who likes to chill in bed...and doesn't have some kind of sleepers remorse for missing a day of blindingly bright sunlight and 100+ degree tempertures in exchange for a comfy day in the cool darkness.... 2. i'm messy...not dirty....messy...clothes miss the hamper...underwear ends up in the living room...throw pillows find their way to the kitchen...papers abound...piles of stuff to be sorted through...which usually end up being thrown out in a fit of frustration without a second glance...but on the flipside, i'm messy but not a packrat...i have no problem just tossing stuff, or donating it to a good cause...and i go through spells of neat freakness...but no OCD people please...it just won't work in the end... 3. i'm incredibly forgetful...i take at least 15 minutes to exit my apartment...and once i'm out, i spend another 10 minutes running back in to fetch vital things i've forgotten...like cell phone...keys...shoes...i also forget to pay bills...not so much where i'm getting my electric or phone shut off...but i pay a lot of late fees...i also suck at music...i love it...but am incapable of remembering what name goes with which band...even if i own the cd...or have seen them live...luckily my friends work with me...and burn me cds and attempt to train me using flashcards...oh and the same holds true with people's names... they just never stick...patience is required 4. i'm notoriously late...see forgetful for the explaination...again patience is required 5. i'm an over eater...i can eat as much as a 300lb man...i don't gain weight...i mean i don't have the perfect body...but no one's ever told me i'm fat or ugly anyway...in fact i'm kinda hot if you were to pit me against the average 26 year old...so i don't have a complex about it...and people are generally shocked at my secret ability...i just enjoy food...from farmers market veggies to snickers bars...and i won't ever order a salad just to make myself look girly...so you've got to be blessed with a high metabolism since i will probably dump you if you get fat...or if you become a workout nut..or refuse to eat with me...high metabolism is really the only answer... 6. i hate walmart...so must you...and you must know why we both hate it... 7. i can appear high maintenance...but not for long...when i first start dating someone they get the works...makeup...fixed hair...cute clothes...that lasts for maybe a month...then...i get tired..it's exhausting to spend that much time on one's appearance...not to mention the organization required to pull off such a look...i'm normally lucky to get out of the house showered, and fully clothed...forget matching and cuteness...and makeup...usually in a month my sparkling personality shines through so looks become secondary...so in essence...you must be slob friendly.. 8. i smoke...i continually try to convince myself and others that i'm a non-smoker...and i'm close to achieving that status, but i'm guilty of lighting up multiple times a week covertly and rarely around alchohol since that's where the chain smoking begins...you can't smoke...i don't want to do it anymore, and being around someone who does will be unbearable... 9. i spend hours in front of a computer...it's part of my job...that's the only time i'm online...because i have no choice...but 40 hours a week is a long time...especially when all my friends have either no job...or cool jobs...or jobs that require actual work of them...so i sit here bored staring at the screen...wishing i could find a guy cool enough to be awarded boyfriend status...who's stuck online too.... 10. so...i'm slightly supreficial...i need a picture in order to talk to you...it's a must...and not some grainy i took this from my camera phone...fuzzy...i actually weigh 600lbs and have poc marks on my face...but you'll never see them kinda pic...an actual picture...without it...no dice... 11. i kill plants regularly...but not on purpose...and i mourn their loss for weeks... webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-07-06T14:43:10-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/82797404.html Lazy girl seeks same in boy form text Re: Rant: My sex drive http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/81880729.html Hi, I'm the typical Austin CL guy. Instead of actually listening to your problem and offering useful advice, I'll suggest something else. Sex with me. That's right, me. I know it's a revolutionary idea on this board, a guy soliciting sex from some girl who didn't ask for it, but hey I'm a pioneer in that regard. So let's meet in a dark alley somewhere and I'll worship whatever it is you want me to worship. Feet? Cool, I can get into that. Are you fugly? Great, I have a fetish for that too. After all, I'm just that desperate. If you want, I can meet you at Walmart and we can do it in the backseat of my used kia (the benz is in the shop). Got a thing for dressing rooms? Awesome, me too! I can take it as slow or as fast as you want. Oh, and I forgot to mention I'm devilishly good looking as well. Of course, who isn't on this board, right? We're looking for action on the internet because we're all winners! And I can go all night doing whatever you want. I'm DDF and tall, obviously. I can be as nasty or as nice as you want me to be. Oh, and don't worry about contacting me. I have already written, and will be writing you several times throughout the course of the next day or so, using different email addresses and a different picture for each one. I'll try a couple different things: the nice guy approach, a canned response, a couple cock shots, the married guy who just isn't getting any at home, etc. Who knows what you'll respond to? So if and when you want some hot action from a handsome single millionaire, you know where to find me. In the meantime, good luck with your libido. *smooches* webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-30T17:36:31-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/81880729.html Re: Rant: My sex drive text You were Dumpster-Diving at the Goodwill off Lake Austin Blvd. - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/81735297.html I asked if you were dropping off or taking away, although it was obvious what you were doing. You showed me an operational massager you found that I could see could definitely be used on the you-know-what. I sure would clean it before I used it. I was dropping off a nice looking DVD player. I bought it about 2 years ago, thinking I was buying something that was high-end and would last, but, alas, it turned out to be disposable, like so much electronic gear these days. So I went to Best Buy and bought a new no-name brand for $25. Made in China, I guess. Works fine, though. I had intended that the broken one go to charity. Maybe they could have repaired it and sold it. I expect it's stolen by now. Good luck to whoever got it. I even opened it up and cleaned it thoroughly. Still dosen't read discs. Maybe whoever takes it could take back to Goodwill, once they figure out it dosen't work. During the day this time, so at least it would have a shot at an extended life instead of ending up in some dumpster-diver's dumpster. I thought the Remote was kind of goofy anyway. Anyway, we had a nice little chat. You seemed quite bright and friendly. I thought you were cute. I liked the smooth way you handled yourself, despite the fact I had caught you red-handed dumpster-diving. I thought of asking you for a drink, but I did a quick little analysis of the situation in my head: 1. It was late and I had to get up early in the morning. 2. Obviously, we come from a totally different socio-economic class, so a LTR would probably not work out. 3. On the other hand, if you are dumpster-diving, you are probably an easy lay, and I'm not above NSA sex. 4. But then, if you are dumpster-diving you are probably not way up there in the Ethics and Morals Department, if you know what I mean. That opens up all sorts of consequences. 5. Jeez, have I gotten so desperate I have to pick up chics at a dumpster? On my way back from Randalls, I glanced over to the GoodWill drop-off. Now there were 3 cars there, all apparently dumpster-diving. Look like quite a little social scene going on there. Clearly, there is an entire dumpster-diving subculture that I was not aware of. One guy was talking on his cell-phone. I imagine he was acting as a dumpster-diving scout and was informing his fellow dumpster-diving team members what the potential take was at this location. I guess Westlake is one of the prime spots, since it is one of the richer parts of Austin. I hope that guy wasn't your boyfriend. In any case, now I am having a few doubts about my off-the-cuff analysis. Who am I to judge? Life is tough. Any of us could find ourselves dumpster-diving. Life can throw you some hard curves. In the off chance you found a wireless-enabled laptop in the dumpster and found your way to the Craigslist to sell anything else you found, I hope you will read this and drop me an email. In any case, maybe I could learn some valuable dumpster-diving tips. You never know when it might come in handy. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-29T23:57:49-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/81735297.html You were Dumpster-Diving at the Goodwill off Lake Austin Blvd. - m4w text Breaking up with I-35 http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/80736475.html Dear I-35; I hate you. I loathe you. We are done. How many times have your fancy entrace ways lured me into your traffic sludge? Each time I get on, I'm locked into this slow moving train to hell, not a single exit ramp in sight. Why must you host an accident everyday, every G.D. f-ing hour?! Have I not given you enough attention? The long sad procession of drivers is like the arteries of some fat ass on his 7th helping of mashed potatoes. So, I-35, I've run off with Mopac. Yeah, you heard me. She treats me better, and even on her slow days she makes you look like the hagard old whore that you are. Interstate my ass! I'm done with you. p.s. Keep my hubcaps, they'll just remind me of your years of abuse. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-24T15:37:29-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/80736475.html Breaking up with I-35 text for the guy who yelled to me as I rode my scooter http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/79524843.html To the young man who yelled to me as I rode my scooter home: First: Yes, they are nice panties. I know that. I knew that when I bought them. I knew that when I put them on that morning. Fortunately, I'm a woman and I have options to purchase either functional cotton panties or ones more racy or feminine, like the ones you caught a glimpse of and felt the need to compliment. If you had asked, I would have shown you more than the tiny band peeking above my skirt where my shirt was blowing out. You could have seen just how nice they really are. I've seen your options for men's underwear and I'm sorry you can't purchase something functional, yet dainty. I'm sorry you have briefs, boxers, and that weird boxer-brief combo. I'm sorry that someone thinks it's okay to put assorted breakfast meats on boxer fabrics. And although I doubt you were thinking of the lack of options you have in undergarment choices when you yelled at me out of your car window, I'm going to think the best of the situation and just say thank you. Second: My panties were brought to you emissions free. Yes, I'm scooting around Austin on a zero-emissions vehicle. I take low-traffic roads because of my fear of those wacked-out bitches on cell phones who can't seem to find the brakes or look out of their rear, front, or side windows as they turn corners. I've almost been hit by one while: walking, riding a bike, riding my scooter, and driving (at least I know they're not prejudice), so I take back roads thinking they'll avoid anything that might be "ghetto" off of the main arteries in town. Since your car wasn't that nice (really, it wasn't), and you were driving in a hipster part of town, I'm guessing your political bent might be more central or left. So why would you yell something uncool out of your window? When I walked everywhere my main response to those out-of-the-window comments was always the same: Fuck-you-asshole-get-a-fucking-life. Since I couldn't open my mouth for fear of bugs, let me offer a comment retroactively: Get out of your gas-guzzling emissions-spewing car you pseudo-liberal and make a difference rather than pissing off those who actually try. Third: I'm married. And I'm old enough to be your mother. Call her. She misses you. (and yes, they really are nice panties. thanks.) webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-18T07:57:11-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/79524843.html for the guy who yelled to me as I rode my scooter text Gaping Axe Wound Seeks Mental Midget http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/79401090.html ME: Herpes-ridden, HPV-ridden (which is weird 'cause I'm a really good girl who's only had sex with 70 strangers, but one was named Charlie I think), showy boat-owning, child-rearing (utilizes bribery and time outs rather than spanking), actual-meal-eating, size-10-but-not-fat, Dillard's-shopping, good blow job-giving (at least in my mind but according to statistics, probably not), fake-boob-sporting, sexy-lingerie-wearing-while-cooking-surprise-dinner-for-my-CL-CE-date-who-will-most-likely-stand-me-up-though-he-has-no-idea-I'm-trying-to- surprise-him all around great sexy girl… YOU: Have at least one of the above-mentioned diseases, not a boat owner 'cause I already have one and if you own your own than I can't feel superior to you on some materialistic, I'm-more-successful-than-you-level, hate your pointless, mind-numbing job like I do so we have at least more than a disease in common, and please have a smallish to medium size weiner 'cause I like it up the butt but won't admit it right away. May make you work for the brown-eye for a while by helping with the kids, chores, etc, but rest assured I WILL give it up often and eagerly 'cause God knows I don't want you sniffin' around some whore who will give me God-knows-what. Don't be smarter than me. Than I. Than I am. Don't be a smart ass. Just kiss mine. Send pic of your small weenie. I'll respond in kind. Mmmmm. Bush. P.S. I don't shave. Hope that's okay. P.P. S. Don't be gay. That happened to my mom, and look how I turned out. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-17T12:56:39-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/79401090.html Gaping Axe Wound Seeks Mental Midget text An Open Letter to Danica Patrick http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/78799977.html Dear Danica, I've given this some serious thought, and I think it's about time you do too. As you obviously already know, you are very cute. Really cute, like a little animal you just want to squeeze until its head pops. Let's face it, you need to dump that almost-40 fiance of yours and start getting it on with a beautiful lesbian. I am not cute like you as aforementioned, but I have really nice boobs, good skin, and a sexy body. On the other hand, if it would make it more comfortable for you if I looked manly, I could try to frown a lot, grope my crotch, and wear less makeup. I also have a strap-on. Maybe I will even bind my 34DD breasts for you, Danica - you mean that much to me. I would also like to point out that I am bigger than you, and since you're only 100 pounds I can still carry you through the door on our wedding night. Now, onto the important part. I know you're worried about sleeping with a woman. And of course what can compare to the expertise and knowledge of a 39-year-old man? Well, kitten, let me tell you - I've been dating a woman near your fiance's age, and trust me, I KNOW the tricks. I've studied well, and you won't be disappointed in my ability to work my way up those tight little legs of yours. Plus I am 22 - and unlike your fiance will not be in need of viagra by the time you're hitting your sexual peak. Did I mention that I have long fingers? Please consider letting me squeeze you. I promise I won't pop your head. Love, Your Lesbian Admirer webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-14T12:18:20-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/78799977.html An Open Letter to Danica Patrick text Dear men who want me to assfuck you, - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/71187575.html Please be patient with me. I knew there were plenty of men out there needing assfucking, but I had no idea that there was such a dirth of female assfuckers like myself. As such the response has been delightfully voluminous—much like the monsterous cumloads you all claim to deliver. I am afraid that I can’t respond to each of you personally, nor can I fuck you all. There isn’t enough Crisco in all of Central Texas to make that happen. I have a life to lead, assfucking is intensely personal and thus takes time, and furthermore I like to be quite sanitary with the whole process; this also takes time. So I plan to follow up with only a handful of you. I do want to address some of your questions and discuss some of my concerns though. If you are planning to reply to my post, or already have and have not been notified that you are a winner, this may provide you with some guidance as well. 1) I am a real female. I understand why many of you are doubtful. It seems that many gay men respond to m4w posts. As an avid fag hag, I apologize on behalf of the gay community. As a feminist, I do not feel too sorry for you. Though objectification on any level is to be abhorred, when a man lusts after you and you find you cannot control this, you have simply been put in the place that women can rarely escape from. Anyhow, I am a girl. 2) First-timers: Congratulations on choosing adventure. Some of you sound so sweet and I may be contacting you, but beware—penetration (in any form) is not something to rush into. It will be many weeks into the future before I assfuck you. Though you may have rammed your reportedly “huge” and “cut” cock into your prom date’s previously unpenetrated pussy after a few brief minutes of fingering, I do not plan to do the same to you. Most any woman will tell you that it hurt to lose her virginity, but if we would all start doing this right, that would not be the case. Here’s the plan, ass virgins: If you have not done so yet, start playing with your own asshole. External, then internally. Make sure to use plenty of thick lubricant. Take your time and don’t do anything that hurts. It will stretch eventually. When you can get two of your own fingers in there, we are ready to play together. I will be using a variety of smaller toys before we venture into assfucking with a strap-on. I simply will not cause you any pain. (Should you find yourself in the position to devirginize someone’s orifice, vaginal or anal, please follow this or a similar plan.) 3) Queer tendencies: This is delicate, but I got the feeling that a few of you were trying to run from something. To be clear, anal stimulation is not a queer act. Our society frequently associates the two, but in truth many straight couples engage in ass play and there are many gay couples that do not. So as most of my responders seem to know, ass play doesn’t make you gay. But if you have been thinking about having a man fuck you in the ass, then having little ole me do it, probably won’t satisfy you. So before you become entangled with me, you must decide if you are interested in men, or having a short girl with a tall strap on fuck you. 4) Penis pictures and descriptions: Why? Your penis is of no concern to me in this endeavor. Face pix are nice because I have some idea who I am talking to, but I am not about to be impressed by your 8 inch cock, your hook- shaped cock, your cut cock, or what I can only hope was a semi-flaccid cock dangling out of your pants. Its not out of the question, but I mentioned nothing about you fucking me, so let’s let your phallus be a surprise. 5) Submissives looking for a Dom: I should probably tell you why I like assfucking men. It’s the equality of the whole thing. I get to be the subject and you are the object. What men do to me, I get to do back for a change. I think it’s a terrific learning experience for all involved, not to mention a great time. I think it’s a shame that so many men ignore this important erogenous zone. I am not, however, on a control trip. I like for all of my endeavors to be based on partnership. I think you will find that I will fuck you with more care than you have ever fucked a woman with (though perhaps you are all wonderfully caring lovers yourself). I will fuck you nice and easy, and if I speed up its only for the sake of friction, and not to make you feel like my bitch. So if you are looking for someone to make you feel like you did when mama spanked you, don’t look here. 6) Use some caution boys! Many of you have sent me work emails, your unblurred face, last names, and phone numbers. Don’t you want to make sure I’m not crazy first? I mean…I’m going to sign this Annie, but that’s not my real name. Annie webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-05-02T00:09:57-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/71187575.html Dear men who want me to assfuck you, - w4m text Missed Connection: Your face and my crotch - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/70628685.html I was in the front row at the Texas Rollergirls match last Sunday night. You were hit hard by another skater. When you landed in my lap, you nearly did some permanent damage. Our eyes locked, you mumbled an apology, and I think I fell in love. Can I show you my bruise sometime? webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-28T10:43:02-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/70628685.html Missed Connection: Your face and my crotch - m4w text So here is how my day went... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/69617985.html I am finally home at 1:30 am on Friday after a long and exhausting Thursday. This morning I woke up tired. My cat is in heat and was wailing all night long, and since I knew this would keep me up I decided to masturbate to facilitate sleep. When I was sixteen and living with my father and stepmonster in Barrington we had this housecleaner who was in her early thirties. She had instructions from the monster not to let me sleep late in the summers and impede her vacuuming schedule, so she would knock on my door and I would pretend to be asleep. Invariably I'd be nursing an erection and leave it exposed in the hopes of turning her on to sex. This never happened but has fueled a tremendous amount of masturbation over the years, both furtive and not. So last night, as the cat roamed our house moaning and crying in her own swollen frustration, I proceeded to not orgasm during three full hours of arm numbing and cock chaffing futility. Around four o'clock I called it quits. At 7 my alarm went off and I went to take a shower. The paperboard ceiling in my bathroom has been growing mushrooms in one wet corner for almost a month because the upstairs toilet leaks and I haven't gotten around to fixing it. Apparently last night it decided to drop. In the shower. Down with it came two (2) scorpions. They both went into the scorpion jar. Since I couldn't take a shower with all that crap in the stall, I skipped it and just got dressed. I haven't done laundry this week so I put on some clothes I wore on Sunday for a cookout. This attire was essentially inappropriate for work, but I figured no one would notice. Wrong. My supervisor pulled me aside and asked if I was doing all right because I looked like maybe I needed to get myself together. And that I should consider dressing more appropriately for work. And that it was company policy to keep facial hair trimmed and neat. And that the boss was asking questions about my productivity, which is typically above par but reviews are next week and I got a funny feeling I was being written up. There is a girl who works near me who never talks to anyone. She sticks to herself at lunch and almost never makes any sort of eye contact or attempt at interaction. Today at a staff meeting the manager asked her to act as a de-facto minutes taker, I think to open her up. She was so intimidated and awkward that a few minutes into the meeting the manager told her to hand the oversized workpad to a coworker because we needed to speed things up. Someone snickered and I guess she thought it was me, because she glared my way and later on came by my desk and spoke to me for the first time in two years of working together. She said "At least I'm not fat." And I think she said "asshole" as she walked away. Around 3 I had to take a dump but I couldn't get away from my phone. Finally about a quarter to four I made it to the bathroom and was shitting before could sit down. When I was done I pulled up my pants and they were wet because someone had either pissed on the floor at the base of the toilet or the toilet had a bad seal and was leaking. Either way, I had to go back to my desk with a big wet behind. My friend noticed and told our other friend about it. About 10 minutes later I got paged over the intercom. Since I had to walk through the entire office to answer the page, I pulled my shirt out of my pants to hide the stain. I could tell word had spread because people were craning their necks to watch me pass and smiling. I got the "tisk-tisk" finger scrape from a coworker, though I'm not sure what I was supposed to get from that. On my way back to the desk my manager pulled me aside again and less gently than before reminded me about office attire. I tried to tell him about my predicament but he wasn't listening. I think I need to start looking for a new job. After work I stopped off at a clothing store to buy some new slacks because I was going out to a party and had pissy pants. My card was declined after waiting in line for 20 minutes while a trainee learned the ins and outs of retail cash registering. The woman behind me was in a rush because when I tried for the third time to run my card (I KNEW there was money in my account) she said so. I told her she could pay for my shit if she wanted to get out of there sooner. My card finally worked (why I don't know) and I went to the mall bathroom to change. The pants were too big and I didn't have a belt, so I tried rolling the waist up a couple of times to keep them from falling down. This worked, and since they were a little too long in the leg, it wasn't really noticeable, as long as I kept my shirt untucked. At the gathering I struck up a conversation with this CUTE girl, who turned out to be married but I wouldn't have known because she wasn't wearing a ring. I only found out later because my buddy told me she had commented that I seemed like I was leering at her and didn't I know that her husband was at the party. I wasn't really leering as much as I was hoping she thought I was cute and might be interested in me. I guess that shows how self-aware I am. Now, I don't drink anymore because I have a problem with alcohol. It makes me want to keep drinking and then I change and usually do or say things that catch up with me later. Occasionally I'll smoke some pot, but that's rare too these days because it tends to make me paranoid and insecure. A bunch of people were smoking a joint on the balcony so I went out there to check it out, but decided not to smoke. About fifteen minutes later the police knocked on the apartment door because someone in the complex had either seen or smelled the marijuana. They didn't come in and didn't really hassle the party, but I figured once the cops were there it was only a matter of time before they came back, and since I was tired I decided to leave. On my way out of the complex I got pulled over. The cops asked me if I was coming from that party and I said I was. They asked for my license and proof of insurance, then went back to the cruiser to run them. When they returned, I was asked to step out of the vehicle and escorted to the rear of my car. The one cop asked if I had been drinking and I said no, I don't drink. He asked why, and I said because I choose not to. This seemed suspicious to him, not because he thought I was lying but because I suppose he couldn't fathom why someone would not drink alcohol. The other cop asked me if I had been smoking any drugs and I said I had not. He asked me if I "smoked drugs" and I said I do not. About this he was suspicious not because he couldn't fathom someone not smoking drugs but apparently because he thought I was lying. The first cop asked me for my social security number. I said I was not prepared to offer that because it was unnecessary for him to have that information when he has my ID and insurance papers. This must have pissed him off because he got in my face with the flashlight and said he could demand any form of identification necessary to execute his duties. I said it was a moot point because I could not remember the number, which is true, at which point he asked for a consent to search my vehicle. I stated I did not consent to a search, which is when he strangely decided to back off. His partner, though, informed me that "for your own safety" he was asking me to place my hands on the trunk of my car, spread my feet, and submit to a pat down. Since it was clear I had no choice I spread 'em, and as he patted me down he must have felt the rolled up waistband of my too big new slacks. Assuming he had found my stash, he proceeded to unroll my waistband and tug at my pant leg, at which point my trousers fell down to my ankles, revealing no drugs but only my day old boxers with the yes/no pattern. The "no"'s are in red to be seen in the light. The "yes"'s are glow in the dark. So there I was, spread eagle over the trunk of my car, two cops staring in disbelief at my dropped trou and glowing "yes" trunks. They let me go with no apology. When I finally got home, a while ago now, my cat was still howling for kitty sex. I took a shower anyway, sopping paperboard ceiling and all, then checked my scorpion jar. They were still alive but not moving much. I think I will spend the weekend looking for a couple of black widow spiders for them to fight. You know, the black widow spider always wins against a scorpion, even as small as it is. She leaps over the scorpion's back and ties up his tail with her spinnerets. But she never bites him. She's only interested in finding a way out. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-22T03:09:30-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/69617985.html So here is how my day went... text Big-Dick LIARS http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/68700934.html You've all seen it here and everywhere, all these males claiming that their dick is this size or that size. It's time to bring a lot of that back to reality. "Big" is mostly a matter of self-deception. Although there have been quite a few pictures here of male members that truly were freaks of nature, better suited for a side-show than a bedroom, most of us are AVERAGE -- that's the quintessential meaning of the word, and the measure of the word is 6 to 7 inches. But most males come up with some truly insane and inaccurate ways to measure their cocks. Here's some facts and some guidelines for measuring. First, LENGTH. Males always say things like "my dick is xx inches long" and that's just as true as "I can eat pussy all night long." Give it a FUCKING REST!! The ONLY valid way to measure your dick length is to take an old-fashioned wooden school ruler, place it flat on TOP of your dick, and push it into your pelvis as far as you can, or until you draw blood. Looking down from above, where your dick ends is how long your dick is. Read it and weep. It does not get any longer than that. If you know what parallax error is, then you know that this actually makes your dick measure a quarter inch longer than it really is. Now -- you uncut bastards, you're a special case. Your prepuce DOES NOT COUNT for your dick length. If you're really ignorant, "prepuce" is your foreskin, the male anatomical part most commonly regarded as the most repugnant, rejectable, and disposable part of a man. Besides his personality. Do NOT measure your prepuce as being part of your dick length. When you have your dick inside your fuck partner, your prepuce always slides back, so the only length they can feel is from your urethral opening and back. You are a DICK, and not a fin fish as defined in the Texas Parks and Wildlife Fishing and Hunting Regulations. Pinching a fin-fish's tail to make it long enough to keep is not the same as pinching your prepuce to make your dick long enough to fuck. You are just a dick, not a game fish, no matter how large your bag limit or how willingly you'd eat a dick like you would eat a game fish. So skin it before you measure it. For length, use the school ruler method. If you are actually longer than a 12-inch ruler, I pity you but you should either say "12 inches plus" or else get a goddamn yardstick from the sewing store. Using a carpenter's tape measure does NOT count. If it did, I could hook the end of the tape in my asshole and measure a 12-inch dick right now, and I don't even have an erection. So could you. A few of you are doing exactly that, as you read this. Next, GIRTH. Girth is a technical term that means "how big around it is." I know I've been using a lot of technical terms here. Get over it. Get a dictionary. And NO, that is NOT a book that tells you how large your penis is, except that a few of you have your pictures next to the words "inflated" "exaggerated" "mendacity" and "fraud." And -- I left out "laughable" and "miniscule." The only accurate way to measure the girth of your dick is with a flexible tape measure, the kind you can get at the sewing store -- or can borrow from your gay clothing designer best friend. You measure your girth by wrapping the tape measure around the AVERAGE-SIZE part of the shaft of your cock. And you cannot measure the "width" of your dick, because dicks are oval-shaped in cross-section and not all proportionately equal in width by depth. Girth counts. Only. And please don't say that your dick girth is how WIDE it is, because if your dick were that wide it would not be your penis, it would be the tail of a goddamn beaver. And when you measure girth, wrap the tape just one time, bitches. One time. If you're one of those mushroom-headed fuckers, do NOT say your dick girth is the circumference of your mushroom head. That's a fucking lie, and you know it. If there's an inch difference between your mushroom head and its supporting structure, and if you think it matters, report both numbers separately. I've been told that some dick recipients like a big-ass dick head and a slender shaft to push it in and out. in this case, accurate reporting will get you more ass that actually wants YOUR individual dick. Ot 500 more just like it. AVERAGE: To give you an idea of what's "average," six inches length is considered "average." A majority of women find that to be perfect, as long as the dick owner has a clue of what he's doing. If he does not know, then dick length is totally irrelevant, because he's a lousy fuck, no matter what. As far as men preferring larger, average, or smaller? I don't know about THAT, but I do know that pussies can stretch a lot more than rectums, so at least in theory, a pussy can fit a huge dick better than a rectum can fit a huge dick. Your ass-pounding mileage may vary. If you are shorter than average, you may have to work on having a nice personality and good sexual techniques. Do that, and you'll be getting more ass than a ride at Six Flags. if you are longer than average? Same thing. The ONLY person who gives a shit about your freak-of-nature footlong schlong is YOU. Be a nice person and a good lover, or get used to jacking off. Jacking off ALL THE TIME. As far as girth, I won't speak to "average" except to note that "average" girth is proportional to length. The rest of you fuckers can work the numbers. I am not in the business of measuring thousands of dicks to determine "average" girth, or "average" girth vs. length. But here are a couple of numbers to make you shut your mouth. A standard 12 oz beer can (Miller, Bud, NOT Coors) is approximately 8 inches in girth. So if you claim a "beer can dick" you better be close to this. Also remember that a standard 12 oz beer can is only 4 3/4 inches tall / long. That means that your "beer can" dick is nearly 20% shorter than average, and too fat to use. Don't believe me? In the privacy of your own home, try wrapping your lips around a beer can. Next measure -- a paper towel roll. A paper towel roll -- exact same size as a toilet paper roll -- is just shy of 5 1/2 inches in girth. Again, in the privacy of your own home, maybe the next time you're sitting on the toilet jacking off (that may be right now for some of you), see if you can put your dick inside the toilet paper roll. If you can, then your dick girth is LESS than 5 1/2 inches. I won't offer any smaller standards for dick girth comparison, because some of you might get your feelings hurt. I will finish with this -- do NOT use a peter pump when you measure, unless you use the same peter pump every time you show your erection to another person. THAT should be a much greater embarrassment to you than knowing your dick isn't as big around as a beer can and you don't need a yardstick to see how long it is. Now all you mutherfuckers need to QUIT LYING and MEASURE UP to the truth. If you really do have an actually huge dick, that's your business. If you are AVERAGE, that's your business. If you have a truly small cock, that's your business. Well, your business, and the business of all the people who want to fuck you. And there are enough people in the world who want different sizes of dicks that you will have NO trouble getting ass, just as soon as you quit being a DICK and lying about your peter. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-16T10:15:12-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/68700934.html Big-Dick LIARS text Goodnight Austin http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/67862348.html Sleep well my online brethren. I am writing this post to personally say to each and every one of you: sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite. I'll even get you a glass of water if you're thirsty. I know a lot of us are alone in the world, whether it be we that find ourselves at a job in a city far far away from home, or perhaps a spouse died, or we get divorced, but for whatever reason we're alone. So we turn to the internet and craig's list for some semblance of human contact and compassion. But instead we often run into an angry and bitter audience, anxious to point out our shortcomings and correct our grammer and speling, always ready with an answer as to why we should have voted for the other guy or why we should drive slower or sport a goatee. There is a lot of anger on here, and I just thought it would be nice to tuck you all in. To the creeps, the foodies, the sphincter bleachers, the college guys just tryin to get a piece, the bi-curious girls and guys, the couples looking for a third to join, the third person they're looking for, the single moms and dads, the cheating moms and dads, the str8 guys, the straight guys, the emotionally available and unavailable, the girl or guy you locked eyes with at starbucks but didn't have the guts to say hi to, the weirdos wanting to buy underwear, the angry blowhards, the trannies, the bbw's, the supposedly tall dark and handsome's, and even those of you who will flame me for this, but most of all, to those of you who are feeling alone: a great big bedtime hug. Sleep well Austin. Love, Mr. Pants webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-10T23:44:32-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/67862348.html Goodnight Austin text To The Nudist Who Keeps Calling About My Room http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/65808256.html Look, If you are really looking for housing, then welcome to Austin and good luck. But if you are using the Craigslist housing ad space as a way to live out some alternate internet identity, then I think that there are better choices. First off, I am genuinely happy for you that you were blessed with such good looks. Double that for all your ex's that have gotten to appreciate how "well-endowed" you are. I think that it is great that you are "comfortable enough in your skin" that you find it unnecessary don skivies just to grab a sandwich out of the fridge. When I got the first call from you, I thought that maybe my friend Charlie had started drinking again, and that a six-pack and too much time on one's hands led to little gag's like this. And it wasn't even the thing about you wanting to know how I felt about you crusing in the buff that set me to thinking. Hell, I live on South Congress. No, it was the fourth time that you mentioned that you were a model and that you were well endowed, that I was like, "Charlie!" Then, every subsequent time me or my roomate would post, the phone would ring, and there you would be, not with any qustions about the layout of the house, the amount of deposit or bills, or any other relevent little question. Just right on into the whole "hot naked model with a really super cock" bit. Maybe I am way off here, but you seem to think that the size of your johnson is more important than the fact of it in my kitchen at all. You also seem to think that by repeating over and over again that you were a model is going to somehow make you seem like a good choice for a roommate. Not true. Anyway, if I wanted to hear about big dicks in their glory days I would just turn on FOX News. And my roommate is starting to get creeped out (seen too many horror flicks that start with a prank call gone awry). If you are in fact looking for a room, then good luck. But may I suggest that you place your own ad outlining your special needs and assets in the housing wanted section so that my roommate can stop sleeping with the scissors under her pillow. Thanks webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-03-28T11:51:40-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/65808256.html To The Nudist Who Keeps Calling About My Room text I love you http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/65470927.html Hope y'all don't mind me posting this here, just have to get it out. You know, most of us have gotten those emails of do what you need to do today, in case there is no tomorrow. But, what gets me more than that is just thinking of when will be the last time? When will be the last time I GET to change a diaper? When will be the last time she sleeps in the middle? When will be the last time she wants to "cuddle"? When will be the last time 'Daddy get's a hug'? When will be the last time I toss her in the air? When will be the last time she falls asleep on my chest? When will be the last time she says "mah-mah" or "dah-dah"? When will be the last we GET to give her a bath? When will be the last time she cries just because we want to put her down? When will be the last time I can brush the hair from her face without her pushing my hand away? When will be the last time I get to see that expression from a funky food I gave her? When will be the last time I GET to buckle her in her car seat. When will be the last time I GET to carry her? You know, many of these things I take for granted right now, and I shouldn't. As stated above, many of us get the 'no tomorrow' emails, but do we ever just think of when things just 'stop' happening? At some point as children, we made an unconscious to stop giving our parents a kiss good night. At some point we decided to not say I love you (as much). At some point we began feeding ourselves. At some point we decided our bed was much more roomy and comfortable by ourselves. Did we think about it? No. Did our parents think about it? Probably not. It just happens. No one knows when, or (usually) why, it just does, we just stop. Well, I'm going to try and do my best to enjoy these moments while I have them. And notice I stressed the GET's above, because while they seem like chores now, someday we WILL miss GETTING to do these things. So, I'm about to leave work and go home where I will GET to walk my dog down three flights of stairs with my baby girl in my arms, allowing me to kiss her cheeck and tell her I love her. Chloe, you will more than likely never see this message, but I love you more than anything God ever put on this earth and I hope I am able to express that to you properly. I love you, Dad webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-03-25T16:35:05-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/65470927.html I love you text pooping at work http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/65270936.html I hate pooping at work, but I'm not about to deny my body its basic need to rid itself of waste. I know I'm weird about pooping though so I thought I'd share. I'm a one man show. I won't shit where someone's already shitting unless it's an absolute emergency. I work on the top floor of an 8 story building. If someone is taking a crap in our bathroom, I go down to 7 and check that one. Occupied? Rinse and repeat. I've gone as low as 2 but not the lobby. The walk back up feels much more rewarding. I am the clark kent of crapping at work. If I'm taking a dump and someone who obviously doesn't follow my rule above comes in and starts crapping, I'll wait him out. He will come and go, and I may learn his identity when he leaves but he'll never learn mine unless he remembers my shoes. Oh hey Bob from accounting, nice splatter echo. Glad you could share that. Never talk to me again. I've had guys try to wait me out, but they didn't know who they were dealing with. They are clearly outmatched. I will die on that toilet if necessary. The longest I've ever had to wait is 35 minutes and there was a sports section in there to pass the time. I realize that I could possibly run into a string of several crappers in a row and spend days in the john, but I haven't had to yet. Find a happy place. When my routine is interrupted by someone who wants to shit with me, I cover my ears when they're dropping the load and grunting. I don't want to hear that! There's this guy I work with who I swear must shit a gallon. And we must be on the same schedule because he always seems to catch me in there. Carl, if you're reading this, please eat more fiber. And email me your schedule so I can adjust mine accordingly. I don't ask for much. (mild case of) ocd shitter this is in or around this one's for you, junior webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-03-24T12:11:37-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/65270936.html pooping at work text So I fell in love with a drummer... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/63324859.html It's been a whirlwind romance, a roller coaster of emotions for these past three years, of which we've been married a year and a half and during which we've had two beautiful children. And now it's over. Thank God. But there are some things I want to thank you for, some things I'll never forget. Like the pawnshop engagement ring you bought for me, and almost 'lost' while making the payments, so you had to borrow money from me to pay that installment and you never paid me back. Then you had the nerve to take the ring back when I said I wanted a divorce. Thanks. And the time we were so broke, mainly because you steadfastly refused to get a frigging job the entire time we were together (because you are a MUSICIAN! for crying out loud), despite the fact that you already had another child whose mother you owed a ton of child support, and had another baby on the way with me, and I had no other recourse but to pawn my guitar which I stupidly used to impress sexy scruffy musicians like you. Thanks for that. You owe me a guitar. Thanks also for the time when we eloped (was I high?) and got married at the old-timey photo studio where I dressed as a saloon girl whore (how appropriate, since we met in a bar) and you as a shot gun-toting “gentleman,” and when the preacher pastor lady presiding over the so-called ceremony asked you to repeat after her “I thee endow” and you said “What?” and she said louder “I thee ENDOW” and you said “Uh, I be endowed”…that made me laugh. Thanks really for that. And thanks for all the times you would scoot over to my side of the bed when I'd have to get up in the middle of the night to pee while carrying your ever heavier fetus. You knew this pissed me off to no end which is I guess why you did it. You are so easily entertained and so often at my expense. Appreciate it. I can't tell you how many times I'd come home to the house totally rearranged. At first I thought you were nesting, but it kept happening with such frequency and passion-before, during, and after both babies were born-that I just came to the conclusion that you are “totally DEranged.” Thanks for making me wonder about whether I should have the kids someday checked for manic depression. Yea. There were good times…yes there were. Like the time we were making love in the woods on the hood of the car and you saw head lights coming and freaked out, jumped off me and ducked behind me so my bare ass/boobs would be the first thing those strangers (or not, possibly) saw. That was thoughtful of you. There's so much to be thankful for when I think of my time with you, too much to really recount here. But I do want to sincerely thank you for the children you gave me (even though with the first one, three whole months into our dating relationship when you knocked me up, I told you over and over I wasn't on the pill and that you needed to pull out and you didn't-twice). I must have been ready for them on some level, and somehow you knew that (?) just like you knew I would make a great mommy, to you too. Thanks for letting me go. Thanks for agreeing to be friends. Thanks for all the music and madness you brought to my life. I'll never be the same, in a good way, thanks to you. this is in or around Austin of course webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-03-11T12:32:02-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/63324859.html So I fell in love with a drummer... text Fuck you Cell phone. Fuck you lamppost. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/55061613.html I was always one of those guys. There's always one in every friend-group: The guy who doesn't have a cell phone. I lived my life for years without needing one. And just didn't feel like owning one. Nothing too moralistic about it. I didn't have a cell phone, and it was fine with me. But it wasn't fine with my friends: "Dude you need a cell phone..." "Why the fuck don't you have a cell phone?" "Get a cell phone, or I'll kick your bitchy little ass...punk [And then an arena audience would start chanting 'Guns and Cell Phones]" So, finally, I caved. Not so much to reap the benefits of cell phone ownership, but moreso to avoid having to hear the constant whining of my friends. And there I was. A mere 28 hours after buying my AT&T Cingular plan, walking around downtown at 1:30 in the morning after having spent most of the night at lovejoy's. I decided to call one of my buds...you know, to take one more step into the cellular world. I was looking down, typing in his number... 567-2... And I got punched. In the head. By a lamppost! I fell flat on my back and cry-laughed. One day into my cell-phone ownership and I had already received a cell-phone related injury. I knew these things were of the devil. I knew owning one was going to cause more worry, trouble, and pain than it was worth. So I spent the next two hours telling the story to my friends and blaming them for my head-injury...talking to them, as it were, via my cell phone. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-01-10T00:29:22-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/55061613.html Fuck you Cell phone. Fuck you lamppost. text Did somebody says boobies? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/53281813.html enjoy and don't email me  <table><tr><td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/ly/3I/X4iAAGlnW3GsU5K9uIVKijU3J1bP.jpg"></td> <td align=center> </td></tr> <tr><td align=center> </td> <td align=center> </td></tr></table>  this is in or around dream land webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-12-23T11:38:49-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/53281813.html Did somebody says boobies? text RANT: The Myth of the Nice Guy Finishing Last http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/51652536.html I think it’s important to expose the lie of the “nice guy” because I see too many of my female friends feel guilty over these losers that they don’t want and I hope to give these dumbasses a wake up call, so they stop hiding behind simplistic notions like “I’m too nice” or “girls like assholes” and actually go out and improve themselves. I’m not saying there isn’t a game being unconsciously played that makes people harder to get more desirable, but assholes with nothing to offer don’t get girls and assholes with something interesting to contribute do. I do think genuine nice guys exist, but in my experience, they fall into one of two categories. They are either mentally retarded or they’re actually attractive, talented, successful men who are happy with themselves and don’t feel a need to prove anything. They are just nice to everyone, unless there is a good reason not to be and they don’t have problems “getting the girl”. Most people are a mixture of assholness and niceness with varying degrees of success in the mating game based on their own individual qualities and the girls they’re going after. The stereotypical “Nice Guy Who Finishes Last” (NGWFL) is not nice at all, but resentful, envious, negative, hateful boy who blames every failure on outside influences and thinks a relationship with you is going to make them complete human beings. They’re nice to you, because you’re better than them (in terms of looks, talents, personality, wit, general desirability, you get the point) and they have nothing else to offer you. They use niceness as a defense mechanism, a futile attempt to keep you around and keep you from ditching them, which just prolongs everybody’s misery. This is not to say they don’t have positive qualities, but compared to you they don’t. The NGWFL usually is pretty knowledgeable in one, maybe two things, but isn’t well rounded enough to keep the attention of potential relationships. Also, these very same boys ignore or are inconsiderate to girls that don’t meet their expectations (i.e. fat, ugly). So you see girls, you’re buying into this manipulative, pathetic jerk’s game. It's not helping them and it’s keeping you from finding some of us who are actually together and would make good, interesting company. Maybe some of you have low self-esteem or daddy issues or whatever, and it makes you feel special to have a NGWFL wanting you while you string him along. Well, you’re a dumb bitch, and need to get a life too. You’re only making things worse. So, you selfish NGWFL, get over yourselves, stop playing your video games 24/7 and whining about being too nice, don’t threaten to kill yourself if she dumps you (that did happen to a lady friend of mine), get out there and find more interests, develop a better personality and when YOU are happy with YOU, maybe a girl will be too.  <table><tr><td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/LU/ox/r52GmwmVJvuCrmzOpcDfAWgbSu9V.jpg"></td> <td align=center> </td></tr> <tr><td align=center> </td> <td align=center> </td></tr></table>  this is in or around table webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-12-08T15:01:42-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/51652536.html RANT: The Myth of the Nice Guy Finishing Last text Rant: I’m a cranky Jew http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/51505157.html I’ll probably get flamed for this, but it has to be said: I hate Christmas. Everything about the Christmas season irritates me. Especially the fact that it has become a fucking season. It’s not enough to conquer continents … now we’re laying claim to whole seasons, eh? Typical. Do we really have to start celebrating this holiday in October? And continue celebrating it until New Years? No wonder you all get depressed around this time … Christmas eats up 20% of your year. I don’t know where you get the stamina for it. I sure don’t – and I’m Jewish. Not that a pesky detail like that should matter. No, you make sure that the whole damn country is along for the Christmas ride, whether we like it or not. “It’s Christmas All Over the World” is your fucking instruction manual. You make it impossible to avoid. Most annoying thing about Christmas? There are so many to choose from that it’s hard pick the worst offender, but the Christmas music is definitely a top contender. Do any of you actually like that shlock? I feel sorry for people in retail this time of year. Thirty minutes at the GAP and I want to crawl out of my skin. If I had to listen to that shit all day long I’d shoot someone. (And can someone please tell me why every store has to suddenly stink like a cheap scented candle?) But hey, if you want to listen to that inane drivel day in, day out for two months -- to each his own. But why does it have to become the soundtrack of our collective lives twenty-four hours a day? Most Wonderful Time of the Year my ass. Nothing is safe from its reach. Restaurants, shopping centers, movie theatres, offices … you’re even piping that shit into parking lots now. And I’m so glad you did -- because I forgot it was Christmas! Thanks for reminding me! For fuck’s sake, I can be doing my grocery shopping and listening to the muzak version of Silent Night. Christians, if that doesn’t shame you, then I’ll feel embarrassed on your behalf. If you listen to Christmas music for more than two consecutive hours in any given day, I think it triggers chemical changes in the brain (the time period shortens to one hour if the musical selection includes Mariah Carey), causing temporary insanity. How else do you explain Christmas sweaters? The saddest part is that you put on that hideous thing in the morning, check yourself out in the mirror before leaving the house, and think to yourself, “Yeah, I look good.” You don’t. Really. No one looks good in a Christmas sweater. Take it off and dispose of it immediately, preferably by burning it. And the decorations … man oh man. Christians have come up with some really creative ways to nastify their homes. Okay, okay -- candles in the windows are pretty, and lights are nice in moderation. A little holly and mistletoe never hurt anyone. But there is a line. And that line falls somewhere between, oh, the third Christmas tree you put up in your home, and the life-sized, mechanical Santa waving from your roof to the ten motorized reindeer grazing on your lawn. (On the day when one of you falls off your roof installing your Santa, I will not feel sorry for you at all. If you are disfigured in some way by your fall, let it be a lifelong reminder of your bad taste. I hope your reindeer short circuits in a rainstorm and electrifies you too.) Every year, there is a point when I think to myself, “Alright, THAT is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen -- the holy grail of bad Christmas decorations. You can’t top that.” But Christian America, you always manage to outdo yourself. The list of tacky is inexhaustible! It’s impressive, really. If tacky were an Olympic competition, you would even get high marks from the German judges. As much as I admire your dedication to the sport, though, I’d like to offer a few guidelines to help you take your first steps this year towards what is called “taste.” When shopping for decorations to plaster over your home, keep the following in mind: 1. Anything over six feet tall should be avoided. 2. Refrain from inflatable decorations. 3. If you own anything that is over six feet tall AND inflatable, you deserve a slow death. 4. The same goes for anything that is motorized or talks. 5. If the amount of electricity being supplied to your lawn could power three or more carnival rides, you might want to think about scaling back. 6. Please, no nativity scenes displayed outside of any building that is not a church. (Doesn’t your savior deserve a more hallowed spot than the grassy knoll usually occupied by your garden gnomes?) 7. If you must have a nativity scene, stick to the script. Only a few characters are supposed to be at the manger, and we all know who they are. My old neighbors used to throw a few Disney characters into the mix. When the baby Jesus is visited by the Three Wise Smurfs, you’ve taken a very wrong turn. And what do Jews hate more than Christmas decorations? That’s right, folks: Hanukah decorations. Newsflash: Jews don’t decorate for holidays. A good gentile rule of thumb: Can you spell it? (draydul? dreydil?) No? Then don’t buy it. So put down the tinfoil stars and the electric menorah. You are doing an excellent job of cheapening your own holidays. Leave mine the fuck alone. Incidentally, let me clear something up. Jews do not put up Christmas trees. So stop asking. (I know someone out there will retort with, “I’m Jewish and I put up a tree,” and to you I say: You are confused.) And yes, on Christmas, a lot of us do go to the movies and out for Chinese food, because everything else is closed for two days … because, you know, the world stops turning on Christmas. I guess all this is to say, not that I truly hate your holiday, but that it’s a real shame what’s happened to it. I’m tired of hearing that I should put up a tree and give Christmas cards and my mom should have taken me to see the mall Santa as a kid and don’t you feel the Christmas spirit? because it’s a secular holiday anyway. No, it’s not a secular holiday. Hey, remember that Jesus guy? I do, and that’s why I won’t devalue it. Would it be okay if we all just decided to give Ramadan a whirl, or wear a bindi because it looks cool? No. And what’s horrible is that I just spent the last hour and a half ranting about Christmas without hardly mentioning Jesus. I know some people are less observant so it doesn’t have as much religious meaning for them, and that’s fine. Celebrate however you want. But why demand that everyone *else* participate in the holiday, too? It generates so much Christmas white noise that it doesn't seem to be about anything for anyone anymore. Well, I know what it’s about, and I also know that it’s one of the two most important Christian holidays, which still has value for some of you. I’ll respect that, even if you don’t. You may now return to your regularly scheduled flaming. Merry Christmas, Cranky Jew webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-12-07T13:04:31-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/51505157.html Rant: I’m a cranky Jew text RANT: The Manager's Revenge--An Open Letter http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/51425459.html I have enjoyed the various rants on this board posted by the disgruntled rank-and-file worker aimed at various bosses, managers and superiors. And I daresay that as a manager I've even learned a thing or two about what pisses y'all off, stuff I may have forgotten since my earlier working days. So really, I appreciate it and it is in the generous spirit of mutual edification that I offer the following 10-point, open letter rant in return. 1. First of all, quit fucking asking me for special favors. Every time you want to work bizarre pre-dawn hours, every time you want an extension due to your own inefficiency and laziness, every time you want a 3 hour lunch so you can go to the gym, the hairdresser, the bank, the grocery store, and the goddam Kennedy Space Center, you create more work for me, AND for your FELLOW EMPLOYEES. So just can it, and follow the fucking rules and we'll all just be able to get outta here by 5:00. 2. And don't give me "it's just this once." Just-this-once ALWAYS turns into a couple times a month, and then it's once a week and before you know it, it's every fucking day. 3. Yes, coming in late is a special favor, a big one. I know you think it's "no big deal," but it is: when you show up 10 minutes late, the next guy over feels like it's ok to show up 15 minutes late. Then the next one over feels okay about showing up 20 minutes late. Next thing you know, it's no big deal to show up half an hour late because, well... EVERYONE shows up half an hour late. Then I'm forced to come up with some iron-fisted rule that everyone HAS to be in by 9:00 and I end up looking like the bad guy when you all were the ones too immature to handle a little flexibility. And I wouldn't even give a shit really, except that MY boss is watching ME and as it turns out, he actually expects shit to get done in this department. Imagine that. 4. Quit acting like all those little birthday parties and shit are some God-given right. This isn't fucking Romper Room. Those parties are a PRIVILEGE that I permit because I'm basically a laid back guy. Okay, so we went out for J****'s birthday to that Mexican restaurant around the corner and all you got was a cake in the conference room. So what? Boo-fucking hoo! This isn't daycare! Don't fucking complain to me about what's fair and what's not fair. How 'bout we just cancel ALL parties? How 'bout THAT, huh?? There! Now everyone's equal. 5. I realize that I am a male in a position of authority over you, but please don't work out your weird "daddy" issues on me. I'm sorry if your dad never told you he loved you, I'm sorry if he hit you, I'm sorry if he drank and ran out on you and your mom, but keep that shit at home. Don't come in here and try to weirdly manipulate me into giving you compliments. Don't skulk around my office with your head down just hoping that I'll pat you on the shoulders and say, "there, there little one, it's gonna be alright." Don't look at me all childlike like I'm going to throw a plate of mashed potatoes at you if you dare to disagree with me. And to the boys especially: quit trying to show me how much of a man you are by aggressively challenging me and then turning right around and trying to get my approval. Work that shit out with your DAD. 6. Speaking of which, do not tell me about the dream you had last night in which we were at a water park and I was your dad riding down the water slides with you. Do you have any freakin' clue how much you just revealed to me with that little anecdote of yours? 7. And speaking of trying to impress me, I am NOT impressed when you show up to work sick as a dog. I don't think of you as a hero, I think of you as self-important, germ-ridden social retard. Don't bring that shit in here. Take a damn sick day. Likewise, you are NOT a hero if you stay in the office into the wee hours of the morning to finish some bullshit project that I didn't care that much about to begin with. If I see you do that I will NOT think of you as a hero, I will think of you as pathetic and inefficient and will promptly demote you since obviously you're not cut out to handle the workload in a normal fashion. 8. Don't get pissed off with that "I do all the work; you don't do anything around here" attitude. I'm doing shit you have no clue about. Every time a paycheck gets screwed up--which happens a lot--do you think it just works itself out by magic? Do you think people are just walking in off the street offering their services? No, somebody has to do recruitment. Who do think is keeping track of how much you overspent last year on graphic designers and office supplies? Do you think all those projects are scheduling themselves? No, I'm doing all that shit, in addition to keeping that 20% increase in insurance premiums AWAY from the rank-and-file so that our deductibles are actually going DOWN next year. Do you think the insurance company just walked in and volunteered to lower their rates? Hell no. So no, I'm not going to think through every little detail of your project with you. It's YOUR project, that's what you're paid for. I'm not going to do your job on top of mine. 9. And FYI, I'm not even getting paid that much more than you. I get about 15% more pay and have about a hundred times the headache and responsibility. By contrast MY boss's salary is exactly twice mine, that's 100% higher. So don't cop that "you should do my job too because you make so much more money" attitude. I'm just a dude barely making a living just like you. 10. Finally kids, I can totally tell when you're fucking around on the job! I'm not an idiot. I can tell when you're reading a novel behind your desk (your hands are too close together to be reading, say, a sales report). And I don't care how fast you are, there is not a browser window yet that can close faster than the speed of light, which is how fast the image gets from your screen to my eyes where I can see that you're surfing CNN.com or cuteboys.com or savethelesbianwhales.org or whatever. It doesn't even matter if your monitor is facing away from me, I can see your eyes shoot up to the upper left hand corner of your monitor where you desperately start clicking whenever I walk into your cubicle. DUH!!! YOU'RE MINIMIZING A BROWSER WINDOW. I can tell that. You're probably fucking reading Craig's List right now. Look, I'm one of the best fucking managers to work with at E*****. Cut me a little slack. You don't like my department? Fine. Go work for R** who will fire your ass the first time you're late coming back from a break. Or maybe you'd prefer J*** who takes fucking roll at 8:00 in the morning, while you're used to sauntering in at half past nine. Or maybe you'd prefer J*****'s department, but if you do, ladies, sharpen up those legal skills, because I'm certain you'll be filing a sexual harrassment lawsuit by the end of the week when he starts making inappropriate comments about your tight blouse. Spend a few days out there; I'm pretty sure you'll be back in my department toot-fucking-suite. Okay, really, I love you guys. When you actually do work, it's good work. Some of the best in the business. I know what I've got here. But don't push me, okay, because when you come in one day and your desk has been packed up and there's a pink slip taped to your cubicle wall, you too will realize what YOU once had. this is in or around Somewhere on the corporate ladder webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-12-06T19:37:51-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/51425459.html RANT: The Manager's Revenge--An Open Letter text How many lesbians does it take... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/49533344.html ...to retrieve an earring from the drain in a bathroom sink? On Tuesday morning while donning my corporate drag, as I whipped out a necklace from my jewelry box it caught on one of the fancy pearl and diamond earrings my dad had given me for Christmas. The earring was eager to explore the putrid depths of the drain, gone almost instantly with a self-satisfied and sadistic *clink* as it settled gleefully into its new home. By Thursday, finally disgusted by having to brush my teeth in the kitchen, it was time to take action. And by action I mean catalyzing a series of events nearly boundless in scope and monumental in stupidity. As a typical lesbian (femme though I may be) I imprudently decided that my queer badge qualified me to take apart the pipe underneath the sink. Now, everyone knows that lesbians are celebrated for their prowess with tools and plumbing, and any other activity that might cause butt crack to show when they bend over. A simple act of plumbing merely to retrieve something certainly could not be cause for distress. Like any well-equipped dyke, I opened up my vast toolbox and got out the largest pair of adjustable pliers I owned and headed to the bathroom. I must digress here to convey to you that my bathroom is roughly the size of a breadbox. With the bread in it. By the time I had removed most of the assorted bottles and boxes from the cupboard under the sink, there was very little room left to maneuver. I was surrounded on all sides with the contents of the cupboard and faced into it with a determined lesbian gaze. As I delicately twisted the pipe's attachment to the bottom of the sink, a waft of sulfurous air crept from the cupboard like a portent of certain doom. However, the pipe seemed to be unscrewing easily enough, so I continued more confidently. Slowly the entire plastic pipe began to twist to the left, and the smell increased to a tangible density. Then, with a massive jolt, the pipe broke free – not from the sink where I had been unscrewing, but from the wall. I screamed like a young boy being ineptly castrated with a chopstick as a mammoth amount of filthy pipe spew drenched the entire right side of my body. The smell can only be quantified as akin to what a half-gutted hobo crack whore might vomit up after eating a carton of rotten eggs. The texture was like the worst diarrhea you have ever experienced - complete with gray chunks like undigested corn. Stomach and lungs heaving, I struggled to regain control of my gag reflex and my left kidney, which felt as if it were trying to forcibly escape through my anus. Always one to do the logical thing, I screamed again, tore off my shirt and did a maniacal dance that no doubt appeared more like an epileptic fit due to the aforementioned bread box proportions of the room. The bowl I had set out to collect water contained roughly 1/1000 of the pipe spew it was intended to catch, with the rest being splattered over a generous portion of my bathroom like satanic confetti. I immediately called my friend Biker Dyke in order to find out what to do next. On the phone in between fits of laughter punctuated by gagging on my end, I continued to remove the pipe, making the foolhardy assumption that it was now devoid of any remaining spew. Biker Dyke had assured me earlier that this would be a simple process, and was now struggling to hold back laughter long enough to make sense of my description of what had happened. As the pipe came completely free from the sink, another gush of spew was released into my waiting lap. I screamed and the cell phone fell the short distance to the floor, extricating its battery in the process. Unable to reach Biker Dyke after reconnecting my phone and retrieving my earring, I called Italian Dyke. “You called the wrong lesbian,” she said, after deciphering that my fits of hysteria had something to do with plumbing. Luckily, she called back a few minutes later saying that her friend Fix-it Dyke would be willing to come over with her and look at it since they were on their way home from work. I did a brief dance of glee and then another one of panic as I realized that I had just invited people into an apartment that now smelled like a sewage treatment facility. By the time they had arrived, I was clothed and had wiped up most of the original spew. Fix-it Dyke immediately went to work with great determination and admirable confidence. Her first effort was rewarded with a mad eruption of water from the confluences of the pipe upon first testing. Not to be deterred, she pulled the pipe off and dumped the water in the sink. Of course when you dump water in the sink after removing the drain pipe… wet lap. And not of the same variety that we lesbians prefer when it comes to wet laps. Italian Dyke and I stared on stupidly as this happened, merely standing there like asshats while Fix-it Dyke shrugged and resumed wrestling with the pipe, my floor now resembling a breadbox-sized version of Lake Travis. Finally, the pipe deigned to cooperate, grudgingly resuming its former position as carrier of foul spew. There were many cries of jubilation and happiness, and I believe I now owe Fix-it Dyke baked goods, or more likely, sex. So how many lesbians does it take to perform a simple act of plumbing? It takes four, my friends. It takes four. this is in or around my bathroom webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-11-19T09:44:05-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/49533344.html How many lesbians does it take... text Dear Mr. Maintenance http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/31208972.html Dear Mr. Maintenance, Why do you feel the need to sit at my desk? I normally wouldn’t mind you coming up front and saying hello while I am surfing the net and answering stupid question for very confused buyers. But when I’m out on lunch why are you sitting at my desk reading my IM’s and going through my drawers? I even looked in the top drawer where my unused, still packaged nametag lives. And guess what? The package holding my nametag somehow removed its staple and opened itself up today. Now don’t get me wrong I have a huge imagination, and I swear sometimes my socks walk off from the dryer. But I really don’t think this nametag got out on its own. So I’m going to assume you opened it. As flattered as I am you want to wear it around be just like me. I’m afraid wearing the nametag with a female name won’t remove that three-day-old scrub nor that stained armpit white shirt look. I admire the “Sandra Dee look at me” attitude you have. But I just don’t think you need to do all this for me. I walked in today with you at my desk fumbling through a FedEx order while reading IM’s to my boyfriend. Now I know you are concerned with my well being cause you know these long-distance relationship can be hard. And I believe you when you tell me I can “sleep over” at your place any time I feel lonely. Gosh thanks so much for the offer. Being a new gal in town I just can’t tell you how much I appreciate that, along with you offers for “sexual encounters” if I feel the need. I’m sure my boyfriend would express the same gratitude. But really my boyfriend and I hadn’t talked much today so sorry to disappoint you in your reading. There was nothing more than a few I miss yous and I love yous. Now really you are a nice guy. But do you think you could avoid sitting at my desk wearing my nametag, reading my IM’s and going through my drawers? I once again can’t thank you enough for this wonderful butterfly feeling you give me in my stomach, well maybe that’s that intuitive female gut “run-away” thing, but anyhow…. I hope that cat-scan appointment you have today goes well. And maybe when you get back and have some meds that relax you a bit we can talk about this a bit more. I bet I can even get the head office to order you your own nametag. As for reading the IM’s I’m sure if you hitting up those AOL people directory files you’ll find yourself some nice girl to chat with on your own. And next time you need to FedEx something please don’t call in under my name, the voice change really confuses the customer service people. Today they had to call back twice to make sure everything was right. Sincerely your “favorite receptionist” ~M webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-14T13:05:08-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/31208972.html Dear Mr. Maintenance text My 9 step plan for the perfect blind date http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/30219233.html Ladies, Are you anxious about your next blind date? Desperate to make an impression on the next potential Mr. Right? Well take it from a guy who knows! Follow my simple "9 Step Plan" (TM) to ensure that your next blind date is as successful as the one I had tonight! 1. Bring a friend...unannounced! Tip: A great way to start a blind date! Your date will be thrilled when he walks into the bar to meet you and sees you...and your friend! Bringing a friend without asking/informing your date is a great idea. It does NOT send mixed signals and it definitely does NOT create an awkward "third wheel" dynamic. Bonus points if the friend chats incessantly on her cell phone and complains about wanting to go to another bar because the current bar sucks! 2. Dress inappropriately for the place at which you are meeting! Tip: To really impress your date, wear ultra-tight pants and a mid-rif and cleavage exposing, backless top! Especially if you are meeting in an upscale bar. It will make your date feel extra comfortable to know that every guy in the bar is thinking "I'd like to beat him up and fuck her" and that every girl is thinking "Why did that guy bring a hooker to this bar?" 3. Make sure you are already drunk when your date arrives! Tip: Is your speech slurred when you first meet your date? No? Well, then you haven't been drinking enough! It's a good idea to meet your date around 10pm, after you have hit Margarita Happy Hour at Taco Milagro and $2 Pint Night at Baker Street. Remember, make sure the unannounced friend is just as drunk as you are! 4. Make sure your date sees ALL of your tattoos in the first 5 minutes...even the one of the butterfly on your right ass cheek! Tip: Nothing says "classy" like a woman struggling to pull down her ultra-tight pants to give her date (and the bar patrons in the immediate area) an up close view of the intricate needle work on her ass cheek. 5. Grab your date's cock and lick his cheek at some point in the first half hour! Tip: Show your date that you're a "take charge" kind of girl by awkwardly fondling his junk and licking his cheek as he squirms to get away from you. Don't worry, it's not considered sexual assault unless he files a formal complaint with the police. If he looks uncomfortable, just say "I've never done anything like this before." Umm...never done anything like this before...since yesterday? Right...Penicillin, anyone? 6. Fall to the floor when you get up to use the restroom! Tip: Remember, before falling down, make sure you blurt out "I've gotta piss." Those three words are the key to every man's heart. For an extra special moment, say this line while performing #5 above. 7. Word to live by: Accessorize! Tip: You don't have to spend a fortune to properly accessorize. What's that I see? Toilet paper stuck to the back of your pants when you return from the bathroom? Way to think fast! The white TP really matches and accentuates the cigarette butt accessory on your leg that you picked up when you tumbled down to the floor. 8. Invite yourself over to your date's house/apartment! Tip: Nothing says "I'm selective in choosing my sex partners" like inviting yourself to sleep over at a guy's house after drinking/talking with him for a whole hour. But what about your friend? Oh, don't worry about her, she's already fallen in love with the older (as in 60) gentleman on the other side of the bar! 9. Demand cab fare when your date replies "Fuck no!" to your sleep-over request! Tip: What?? A man with standards?? How dare he! After all the trouble you went through to show up drunk and make a complete fool of yourself? Well, if he's not going to take you home and fuck you silly, then he at least owes you $20 so you can take a cab to meet someone who will! That's right ladies, follow this simple "9 Step Plan" (TM) and you WILL make a lasting impression on your next blind date! GURANTEED, OR YOUR MONEY BACK! webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-02T21:36:30-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/30219233.html My 9 step plan for the perfect blind date text The Pixies. Not At Stubb's. Again. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/27919339.html First off, I would like to explain that I am in no way a hip, music guy. I am a music follower. I take recommendations from my friends, and I pass them off as my own recommendations. When someone says, "Oh, you know that Sigur Ros song that goes like this..." I just smile and nod, and let the other person assume that I know who Sigur Ros is. I don't. I'm not cool. The first CD I bought was Sergeant Pepper, and the second was Automatic For The People, and then there was an 8-year period (during which, you know, grunge happened) where I listened to Broadway musical soundtracks *cough* showtunes *cough*, marching band music, and Frank Zappa records. This is embarassing, and I don't know why I am telling you this, but here it goes. I had never heard The Pixies until I saw Fight Club. Jesus. I feel like I just bared the deepest, darkest secret of my soul. I watched Fight Club, and I went to Tower Records and I bought the Fight Club sound track. It didn't have the song I wanted. I asked friends, "What was that song at the end, the song, you know, the one that was really mind blowingly amazing?" "Shut up," they said. "You suck." It took me several days to track down the fact that it was "Where Is My Mind" off of Surfer Rosa by The Pixies. I bought the album. I listened to it. I had my ass blown out. Here's another thing I should explain. When I discover something that I like, I do a lot of research on it. Like, when my high school girlfriend convinced me that being a goth was the way to go, I went online (and this was back before the web, biatch!) and read up on what it meant to be a goth. The next day, I knew the entire history of the gothic subculture, and could speak with reasonable clarity on a variety of related subjects. Also, I had crazy hair. Please also note, that is not my high school girlfriend. So after I bought Surfer Rosa — available here from my retail partner, Amazon.com! — I read up on the whole history of the band. The more I read, the more fascinated I was. I remember coming into work and complaining to a friend, who was aware of my affection for The Breeders — that he hadn't told me about The Pixies even though that was Kim Deal's band from BEFORE THE BREEDERS. How could he be so insensitive? So that's the set up. I own all The Pixies albums now, including their live BBC recording. Yadda yadda yadda. No, wait. There's more. Last year at SXSW, my friend Neal Pollack had a guest in from England. He was an older fellow, but was filled with piss, vinegar, and cocaine. One afternoon, as our motley crew lounged in my hot tub drinking champagne and planning our evening of rock and roll, this fellow explained that he was going to go see Blur. "But Blur isn't playing," I said. "Aha!" he said. "Gavin was here to speak at the convention. Also, they just hired a new drummer, and are planning a tour in support of their new album. Also, look here — there is a 2-hour hole in the schedule for La Zona Rosa. BLUR MUST BE PLAYING A SECRET SHOW!" "You are a crazy old kook!" I said, and then I punched him in the face. The next day, he arrived at my house elated. "Blur was amazing," he said. And then he kicked me in the nuts. And I learned an important life lesson. If someone tells you that one of your favorite bands is playing a secret show at SXSW, just go. Go, because you'll be kicking yourself forever if you miss the greatest show of all time where Blur played to an audience of 10 people. OK. That's really the entire set up-for this story. Hey, don't worry, we're only 700 words into it. This year at SXSW — and sorry, nerds, I'm talking about SXSW Music (It is funny to see the post-SXSW writeups in the Austin Chronicle that explain SXSW as a film and music conference, and totally ignore the interactive portion, and then to read the blogs and see that the film and music parts are ignored. Interesting. Nerds!) — we heard a rumor that The Pixies would be playing a show at Stubb's BBQ. I explained my story about Blur, and the facts seemed to line up. The Pixies would be making a big comeback tour later this year. There was a big empty space at a prominent club. And someone had told Lane that it was going to be The Pixies. It was almost a fact. When I arrived at Stubb's, there was an enormous line that wrapped around the corner. "It must be The Pixies!" I thought. Luckily, I had an elite super badge that let me bypass the line, and I entered the club and went straight to the front. Lane, Willo and I stood next to the stage for about an hour. We watched people come in to the club. It got crowded. We discussed how great it was that we were seeing The Pixies. We pumped each other up. We made sweet love. It was fantastic. We were going to see The Pixies. The Pixies. They had that song, you know, at the end of Fight Club. Willo noticed that there were an awful lot of people in the crowd who were wearing shirts that said, "Free The OZO Three." She asked a woman standing near by what they meant, and the woman explained that some band had had some of its members arrested the previous night when they were cavorting illegally in the street late at night. "What a bunch of retards," I said. "NO!" said the woman in the tee-shirt. "THEY ARE BRILLIANT HEROES, AND SAVIORS TO US ALL!" "Yeah, whatever," I said. "We are here to see one of the greatest bands of all time, and not to be dragged into some weird promotional ickyness for some band that I have never heard of. Please!" It was at this point that I noticed that there were approximately two dozen video cameras lined up at the front of the stage, recording the audience. "It must be The Pixies," I said. "Look at all the cameras!" I was ignoring the fact that there were enough instruments on the stage to accommodate 12 or 13 people. I was ignoring the fact that most of them had stickers that said OZO on them. The lights went down. The crowd cheered. A man with dreadlocks came out on stage. "We are OZOMATLI," he said. "AND THE COPS CAN'T KEEP US DOWN." They began playing a bizarre hybrid of mariachi music and hiphop. I realized that all the video cameras recording the audience would be used in some sort of promotional, "OZOMATLI DEFEATS THE POLICE WITH THE HELP OF THEIR ONE MILLION SCREAMING FANS" video. I began contemplating suicide. We left almost immediately. BUT I LOVE THE PIXIES, see. I love them. They're amazing. They influenced everyone. And they had broken up by the time I discovered them, which means that seeing them live — especially at a secret show — is like GOING BACK IN TIME AND MAKING ME COOL. Last night, Neal called me up. "I have very reliable information from an indie-rock insider that The Pixies will be playing a secret show at Stubb's tonight." Wary from my previous experiences, I decided to check the internet for supporting evidence. I checked The Pixies homepage. It said, "In April, The Pixies will kick off an 11-city "warm up" tour of North America..." It was April 1st. April 1st is in April, and Austin is a city. It was practically fact. I told all my friends. I told the guys who work at the coffee shop. I told my mom. I was going to see The Pixies play a tiny club show, special for li'l' ol' me. My friend Elana and I get to the club 10 minutes before the doors open. There is a girl taking money for tickets. We sidle up to the counter, all music-insider style, and I say, "So, there's a rumor that there's an, ahem, special guest tonight. Is that true?" "I don't know," she says. "The Pixies," says Elana. "We heard The Pixies were playing tonight." "BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHA HAAHAHAHAH AHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" says the girl. "You are fucking retards. The Pixies? Playing here? For $10? Are you retarded? You are retarded! Hey guys! Look at these retards here who thought THE PIXIES were playing tonight!" I turned, red faced, and ran out of the door. I then wept silently to myself in the middle of the street for several minutes. Frank Black had eluded me once again. And worse, I had been had. I was an April fool. Here is the moral, for which, through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, you have fought your way here through 1500 words. If, tomorrow, someone were to tell me that The Pixies were playing a secret show in a back yard in San Marcos, I would go. If they said The Pixies were playing a show at a McDonald's on the side of the highway halfway between Austin and Waco, I would go. I would go right now. Because it is The Pixies, and they are one of the greatest bands of all time, and it is more than worth it to embarrass yourself, injure yourself, or even see Ozomatli play 2 songs, if there is even the slightest chance of seeing The Pixies. On second thought, if there is even the slightest chance of seeing Ozomatli, stay home. The Pixies will tour again. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-04-02T12:47:23-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/27919339.html The Pixies. Not At Stubb's. Again. text seeking 6 20-something BM thieves (or anyone who can identify them) - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/27116349.html You came to my party. You drank my alcohol. You had laughs with my friends. You went into the bathroom and ripped apart my purse, extracting everything that appears to be of value. You used my phone to surf the Internet. You went on a shopping spree on the web, at Exxon, Speedy Stop and Whataburger before my credit cards got shut off. Conveniently, you posed for the camera and the blogosphere caught you on film: <a href="http://www.zephoria.org/thoughts/archives/2004/03/22/pictures_of_my_robbers.html">http://www.zephoria.org/thoughts/archives/2004/03/22/pictures_of_my_robbers.html</a> Who are you? And why'd you decide to rob me and then commit fraud? And how on earth did you manage to buy things off of the web using my Sprint phone? Even I can't do that! webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-03-23T02:43:02-06:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/27116349.html seeking 6 20-something BM thieves (or anyone who can identify them) - w4m text rude female driver http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/15721774.html I was riding my bicycle in the righthand lane of traffic, on Robert E. Lee. You were a female in an SUV who yelled, "Why don't you try the sidewalk," as I pulled up to the light at Barton Springs Road. My hastily shouted response, "Why don't you try sucking my dick!" If you'll give my suggestion a chance, I'll do the same for yours. webmaster@craigslist.org 2003-09-02T21:24:13-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/aus/15721774.html rude female driver text