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 2009-09-10T22:29:53-07:00 2 daily Beautiful fly http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1368716935.html I caught a fly. Shimmers green, red eyes. Measures approximately 9mm by 5mm, flies great. Want to give to a good home. <img src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:yfP_GxW-O6oZ_M:http://mypetjawa.mu.nu/archives/fly.jpg"> <ul> <li> Location: Long Beach <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-09-10T22:29:53-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1368716935.html Beautiful fly text I submit this brief in support of why we TOTALLY should get it on. - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1361917175.html You & Me Doing It v. You & Me Not Doing It (2009) Using that IRAC method we've been learning about, a compelling brief on why we should hump each other’s brains out. FACTS: You’re in my class at law school. You are tall, dark and very masculine. I find you quite attractive and it’s really distracting. I find reasons to look in your direction during class and I blatantly stare at you whenever we pass by one another. You seem to be returning the looks but I can’t figure out if you’re eye-raping me back, or if it’s more of a “what the fuck is this girl staring at” kind of look. I’m not Megan Fox, but if I was a guy, I don't think I'd kick me out of bed, so I dare to hope it’s the former? Anyway, we’re expected to absorb class material sufficiently enough to one day pass the bar exam, and this is difficult when I’m more focused on what’s behind your zipper. It’s probably distracting to you as well for some chick to be gawking at you while you’re trying to cram massive amounts of information into your brain. (And I’m thinking about cramming appendages of yours into orifices of mine.) ISSUE: Should we have wild, crazy, meaningless animal sex? RULE: Distractions can be very detrimental to success in law school, and should be eliminated whenever possible. ANALYSIS: As detailed above in the facts, my desire to be plowed by you is a major distraction from my studies. It’s got to be a distraction to you as well since it’s probably unnerving to be stared at by a predatory sex-starved woman as if she wants to take a bite out of you. Per the above rule, this distraction to both of us needs to be eliminated for us to graduate from law school and pass the bar exam. Solution? We get it on! I get it out of my system. You not only get laid, but you get the added benefit of not feeling my eyes burning into the side of your head (or your crotch) all through class. We move happily along with our legal education unimpeded by the distraction of sexual tension. Afraid of possible disadvantages? I’ll address any potential concerns here. The quotes are you, and my response follows. “Will I catch any diseases?” Nope. Clean as a whistle. Just got out of a long-term relationship and have only been with one person for the past 3 years. Got tested anyway though, and all is well in My-Vagina Land. (Except for its burning desire to be filled with your throbbing manhood.) “Will you stalk me, or expect a relationship or commitment in return?” NO. You get free NSA sex. As mentioned above, I’m recently out of a long-term relationship. I’m not ready for another one nor do I have the time. “What if it’s really bad, and we end up having to awkwardly avoid one another in class for the next 4 years?” I don’t plan on it being bad, at least on my end. Hopefully our encounter (or encounters, if it was so crazy awesome we decided to make it an ongoing FB arrangement) would go as follows: We leave class after our respective long days of work and school, both cranky, irritable and in desperate need of blowing off some steam. We go to your place or mine, whichever is closer. Maybe we engage in various acts of foreplay, or maybe we’re both ready to get to the main attraction so fuck it. You look like you would be HUGE, but I will still bravely tackle that monster and try my best to deep throat the whole thing. You then throw me down on the bed, floor, or any available surface, and have your way with me. This would ideally involve some spanking, hair pulling, and/or explicit dirty talk. “What if a lot of women in the class stare at me, and I’m not sure which one you are? What if you’re one of the old or fat chicks, or really ugly?” I’m not going to describe my exact appearance because I will die of embarrassment if someone else in the class sees this and even speculates as to who I am. (Particularly a man I have dubbed Leery McPervert who stares at me the way I probably stare at you. I don’t want that dirty old man getting a boner knowing I’m all juiced up in class.) Yes I know I haven't even identified the law school, but I'm paranoid so bite me. (I mean that in the vernacular sense. But if you want to take it literally, I'd enjoy that too.) Anyway, I’m close to your age (twentysomething). When I look at myself I see “cute” but I get told I’m pretty, “beautiful” even. I’m not perfect, but I get hit on, catcalled and sexually harassed frequently enough to assume I must be at least somewhat doable. I even think I’ve seen you giving me a look or two. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. CONCLUSION: For both of us to succeed in law school and ultimately pass the bar exam (and for me to not end up on the Megan's Law website for losing all self-restraint, walking across the room in the middle of class, and mounting you), we will need to have sex ASAP. Sexual proposition affirmed. <ul> <li> Location: law school <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-09-06T21:52:30-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1361917175.html I submit this brief in support of why we TOTALLY should get it on. - w4m text From an Old Woman to a Young Woman http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1353695841.html 1. You are not a victim. No matter what happens to you, don't take the pussy route and blame the world for your misfortune. If you were sexually assaulted, verbally abused, etc and lived to tell about it; take your pain and help those who need it. Writing emo poetry isn't going to solve anything. 2. Invest in your education first, your looks second. Anyone can pay a plastic surgeon to look hot, but not everyone can read a book and do simple math. 3. No matter what you call it, having a 'man to take you shopping' is glorified prostitution. He wants you for your body, you want him for his wallet. Cut the crap and call it what it is. 4. Do not seek confidence in other people. Magazines, celebrities and most pop influences are there to make you feel like you're nothing. Don't buy into it. Those celebrities need your money to look fabulous. Invest in yourself, not hype. 5. Stop fueling gossip mongers [Perez Hilton, TMZ.]. They have nothing to talk about and if you follow them for long, neither will you. 6. Be modest; why have all your goods unwrapped and leave nothing for the imagination? 7. Know the difference between fucking and love. There is a major difference and if you don't know it, pick up a book or ask someone who does. 8. Do not have children just because you're lonely or insecure. Your child will end up hating you for it and you won't get the emotional blanket you hoped you'd get. 9. Get a job. Seriously. Just because you're a woman doesn't mean that you are excused from work. Find a trade, get a job. If you are a house wife, be a good one. If you are a career woman, put your heart into what you do. 10. A respectable companion is rarely at a 'bar' or da club'. These places are meat markets and will only set you up for a douchebag or a wimp. If you go, refer to rule 7. 11. Learn to cook. Cooking is a dying skill that needs not be. You'd be surprise how much weight you lose and how you can get a decent companion if you know more than picking up a phone and calling for dinner. 12. Get off your phone. If it's not your best friend, your job or your family, your cackling is not important and the rest of the world does not want to hear it. Listen more. Talk less. 13. Stop putting so much of your money into things [purses, shoes, make up] and start putting it into a savings account, a 401k or an IRA. Those shoes are not going to vest when you turn 65. 14. Stop using men to get you stuff. Have some self respect and buy your own drinks, meals and entertainment. A date will respect you more if you show them you are not helpless. 15. Perfume and baby powder does not make up for good hygiene. Shower, do your laundry, clean your place. Body odor is not excusable for either genders. 16. If you are a Lesbian, respect yourself and stop trying to find acceptance in the world. 9/10 they will not accept you. Tell them 'fuck you' and be your own woman. 17. If you are a Lesbian, you are not anymore special or important than anyone else. You love other women and you have that right, but do not flex your preference thinking it makes you unique. Your mind and experiences make you unique, either gay or straight. 18. Buy clothes that fit. Be tasteful with your clothing be you big or small. 19. Don't eat for comfort, vomit to make yourself beautiful, and starve yourself to feel loved. Exercise, be sensible with your food choices, don't deprive yourself but never eat too much. The quickest way to a size 30, and to the grave, is past your teeth. 20. If they say the love you, ask them to earn your heart through good deeds, genuine kindness and respect. 21. Romance is not dead; but if you're not willing to give it, don't expect it in return. 22. Stop being a bitch to other women and other people. If you are not happy, go get therapy. No one deserves to be berated because you don't have the guts to berate yourself. 23. Do something new every day. Pole dance to learn about your sensuality, paint to express your creativity, write a blog to express your soul. Evolve and never stop learning. 24. Look in the mirror everyday and smile at what you see. 25. Stay safe. Learn to defend yourself against one or multiple attackers. Jackals do not attack if they see a big stick. If all else fails, run. There is no shame in running if it keeps you safe. 26. Love yourself. Always. When you love yourself to the fullest, the world will open with opportunities <ul> <li> Location: LAX <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-09-01T13:22:16-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1353695841.html From an Old Woman to a Young Woman text Wanted - Rollerskating waitresses http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1303723482.html Ok.. this is going to sound a little crazy...but here's the deal. I'm turning 40, and I live downtown in a loft...and I'm having a huge party....no, I mean a HUGE party....I'm expecting 100 people and a lot of shit talking. Since I'm world famous for my parties (it's my ad, I can make shit up).. I'm really trying to out do myself. Therefore, I though it would be cool to have roller skating waitresses (since the loft has cement floors)...to skate around and hand out h'ordourves to all the cats that attend this bash. so.. I'm looking for friendly, outgoing..and somewhat sexy roller skating models (I mean this is LA.. I'm not that out of control)...to mingle and flirt with my guests and generally have a good time. I can guarantee you that this is the baddest party you will ever attend...let alone work.. and since my friends are mostly broke motherfuckers.. they are going to eat all the food in the first 90 mins... so you will then be getting paid to skate and drink and crash into my furniture.... This party is happening on August 29th, 2009 here's what matters: 1) you have a sense of humor. I'm like hella sarcastic and so are most of my peeps.. if you can't take a joke...it's gonna suck. 2) You need to look good in a skirt. Look I'll be honest.. I only turn 40 once.. and I'm planning on destroying most of my ability to remember what the fuck happened (esp. if the cops come)..but it would be nice to be in awe of how awesome you look in a skirt... 3) You must be sane. Don't get me wrong.. I love crazy women.. almost married one...but not drunk on skates in my house. 4) You must have some cool friends... cause if you get this gig.. I'll ask you to invite some of your peeps (cause the more the merrier and I think it'll be less weird...if there are some people there that you know. 5) you have to have you own skates (ok.. I realize this is not the 70's.. and this is the film industry.. .if you are really interested.. I can find you a pair of skates.....but the looking hot in a skirt thing is still non-negiotable) please respond with your name, age, city you live in, recent pic and your personal assessment of your roller skating abilities. Also, sexy comes in a lot of flavors...so just believe in yourself... if I was looking to book a 6 pack of well endowed blondes...I would have stated that in my ad. laters <ul> <li> Location: Downtown <li> Compensation: $20/hr...two hr min... 5 hr max <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 2009-08-03T11:34:58-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1303723482.html Wanted - Rollerskating waitresses text I literally just got the message you put in my coffee... - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1098040814.html You--a cute barista who tried to save me from a bad date Me--clueless You probably won't remember this, but I have thought about it every day since it happened, and although it happened about 10 years ago it only just occurred to me that your memory might also be haunted by the very same event, and that you likely have been waiting for a reciprocating sign all this time. Also, I may have inadvertently recently watched a suggestive Sandra Bullock movie, the kind that, in the right state of mind, makes otherwise implausible plot twists seem like personally directed cosmic prophecy. Anyway, here is what happened: in 1999 I was a grad student at UCLA and made the mistake (or perhaps was guided by Destiny, which now in retrospect seems so obviously the case) of agreeing to a blind date, set up by this guy who worked in our IT department but who happened to be a grad student in the Slavic Languages department and whose girlfriend had a lonely friend who had recently moved to town and who wanted to meet someone. My apparent qualifications for this assignment were that 1) I was alive; 2) I had earlier helped this guy set up an amazing color laser printer in his office with the unspoken yet clearly implicit condition that I would thereafter have free access to color printouts (though future events prevented me from ever taking advantage of the opportunity) and he was therefore forever in my debt and felt that plugging back in the life-support system that my hospice-bound love life had been on was a suitable repayment for services rendered; and 3) I happened to be strolling along the hallway outside his office just as he received the plaintive call from his girlfriend demanding some sort of romantic intervention on her friend's behalf immediately, lest his own well-being be threatened (this last bit I gathered myself as his door was open while I walked by). I had some time between resetting my experiments and while my data collection was cooking I thought "what the hell." Hell, indeed. She was from Seattle and was also part of the Slavic Languages department (that was the last time I'll be mentioning "slavic languages" by the way), she was very thin and pale, had multiple facial piercings, and seemed like someone who while having an instinctual ease around coffee also seemed to require regular doses of it in order to maintain her drollness and obvious contempt for the banal. And I had a calculator-watch. Thus, I suggested we take a walk over to the Kerkhoff coffee house on campus. That is where the divine hand of Fate intervened and I almost met you. Now, I had been to that particular coffee shop many many times before, partly for the coffee and partly for these amazing chocolate croissants which really have nothing to do with this story except that they were almost good enough to warrant an expletive and have also left a lasting impression on me, to the point where I may have been distracted from noticing you, my lost love, the Universe's true purpose in leading me there with promises of chocolate and caffeine. The point is, I was relatively familiar with the menu and had not previously experienced any untoward degree of surprise, consternation, or disappointment in food or beverage items that I had purchased there and so was totally unprepared for the significance of what would soon happen. So it was that with a degree of brazen ennui, my closest attempt at posing as a hip coffee aficionado in my present company, after the thin pale lady ordered something that seemed unnecessarily complicated for a Tuesday afternoon I approached the counter and placed my order. At what should have been one of the greatest most illuminating moments of my life, basking in the heavenly glory of your blue cap and apron like the halo and robes of an angel sent to Earth as a revelation just for me while the lights dimmed and Dreamweaver played for us in the sparkling universe of which we were the only two inhabitants, I was instead distracted and intimidated by the thin pale lady into ordering something whose name was not part of a language I spoke on a regular basis, but which I at least knew did not have anything to do with ice cream, as random as that fact may seem. You knew this as well, my sweet one, and this is how you tried to save me. I am only sorry that it has taken me so long to realize it. After picking up our drinks (she paid for hers herself which I was more than happy to go along with, given how scary some of her piercings looked close up) we took a small table for two next to a wall and below one of the several speakers placed around the coffee house which happened to be playing something by Smashing Pumpkins, which also happened to be the description of an activity that I would have enjoyed far more than the ensuing coffee talk that I was now dreading. I'm not saying she was a horrible person--she seemed nice enough apart from her contempt for my attempt to order a sophisticated coffee drink at a university coffee shop a little after lunchtime on an otherwise nondescript weekday--but clearly the Universe knew, you knew, and I was slowly coming to realize that she was not only not The One but that I would have to come up with an entirely different strategy for getting free color printouts. The music was just loud enough that I could barely hear her as she went on and on about memes and phonemes, and as I sipped the coffee drink you had given me I began to become even more despondent as I realized that I would also have to find an alternate path instead of the hallway where the IT guy's office was. That is when your message literally slapped me in the face and changed everything. As I tipped my cup back for another sip, a perfectly formed scoop of jamoca almond fudge ice cream rolled out of the coffee, like Excalibur emerging from the depths, to the rim of the cup and onto my nose. Needless to say, I was shocked, stunned almost to the point of cardiac arrest. This had never happened to me before in my entire life! My "date" was clearly embarrassed and surely took it as yet another of the many vulgarities associated with my being a member of the untouchable caste when it came to coffee. But the point is, there was a scoop of ice cream in my coffee! I had not asked for such a thing, and in fact had never even heard of or known that such a thing was possible. It is true that there was an ice cream place in the same general area as the coffee place, but in the endless serial reconstructions narrated by my own internal F. Lee Bailey I simply cannot think of a way that a scoop of ice cream could have accidentally appeared in my coffee. It was only much later that I realized that you, my love, are the only one who could have put it there as a final effort to save me from thoughts of smashing pumpkins, to give me an out, and to let me know that you saw me, and I mean that in a Joy-Luck-Club kind of way. It had the effect both you and I were looking for, but I didn't know it at the time. For the rest of the time we were there I could not stop marveling at how a scoop of ice cream had ended up in my coffee, I must have said exactly that at least a dozen times. I'm sure soon thereafter as the thin pale lady re-told stories of her worst dates I would come to be known as the ice cream guy. But now, so many years later it is with a Hemingway-esque regret that I think to myself late at night: why didn't I look over to the coffee counter to see you there, my savior, my Lady of the Latte, my love? Would you have smiled and tipped your cap to let me know that everything was going to be ok? Would you have thrown off your apron and gone running barefoot with me through the grass of Meyerhoff park to that special place where the Bee girl from that Blind Melon video seemed to finally find acceptance and contentment? Instead, I wiped my nose, finished my coffee and ice cream, and accompanied the thin pale lady back to wherever it is that the Slavic peoples go. I never saw her again. But alas, I never saw you again either. I looked for you, from time to time, but looking back I never really knew what you looked like; I was only ever aware of the warmth I felt, much as when one sits in the sun on a Spring day, that I am absolutely positive had more to do with you than the steamers and kettles and lack of air conditioning. I always trusted that somehow I would just recognize you when I found you and know without doubt that it was you, much in the same way that people think about the afterlife or a really great pair of shoes, where everything seems right and seems to fit in a way it never has before. To this day, with each cup of coffee I pause and wonder what will emerge as I tip the cup back for a sip, wondering if today will be the day that somehow I find you again, if not through a message in my coffee then maybe something more conventional although still just as original, coming from you. So far, every cup has been just another cup of coffee. Anyway, if you remember a dorky looking science guy who came in every once in a while and who you took pity on and saved from a truly awkward social experience sometime shortly after Grunge had peaked and by whom you found yourself slightly intrigued, look me up. We'll go for coffee. Or ice cream. Your choice. <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-03-29T15:26:50-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1098040814.html I literally just got the message you put in my coffee... - m4w text Letter to Lindsay Lohan &amp; Samantha Ronson http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1054954053.html Can Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson Please Make a Sex Tape Before They Break Up? One night in Paris. Pam & Tommy. Kim Kardashian getting peed on. Screech. Mini-me. We've seen all kindsa celebrity sex tapes, but aside from some non-shocking old porn footage of Dita Von Teese, we have yet to see any celebrity lesbian ones. Our lonely eyes turn to you, Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson. These two have a hot minute left before Lohan returns to the cock from whence she came. That Chase Crawford thing was a close call. I beseech thee Mrs. Ronson: Get that firecrotch on film! (You could even produce the soundtrack. Bowm-chicka-bow-bowm.) Frankly, I'm surprised that a sex tape hasn't turned up already. I mean, we've had so many near misses with Lindsay already: the fake Calum Best cellular blow job, the dirty sanchez from Wilmer Valderrama, the t-bone shoved up her ass by Harry Morton... shall I go on? Lindsay, the sex tape hungry public will not rest until we are presented with a Young Hollywood Sapphic film fest. Your coy hand-holding and lip-locked pics with Samantha could never satiate our lust for lesbos getting freaky. Show us the clit-grinding, the freckled vagina-fisting, the mutual titty-tweaking we deserve. I dare say, bah-lezbug! Super seriously guys, the only way for Lindsay to ultimately prove her lesbian love for Samantha is to provide the Internet with a series of labia-licking images so powerful and indelible, no one could ever question her sexuality again. Samantha should think of this video as a prenuptial agreement of sorts: If LiLo truly loved SamRo, she'd just do it. (And while she's at it, Sam should probably go ahead with those breast implants -- even if she does just duct tape them back down again afterwards.) As for the content of the sex tape itself, I suggest they film a re-enactment of their "first time". It should take place mere hours before Lindsay's drunken joy ride and subsequent arrest during the Summer of '07. Scene: The gals slip into the bathroom at a friend's house party. Lindsay snorts a line of blow off of Samantha's arm. Then she sniffs up the remaining coke dust tangled in Samantha's arm hair and looks deep into her little beady brown eyes. Suddenly consumed with a wet 'n wild passion, they tear off each other's clothes and hop into the shower. Using a Pantene bottle as a makeshift double-sided dildo, the girls fiercely bump soaking wet beavers until they simultaneously explode in an epileptic fit of lesbionic quivers. Afterwards, Lindsay accidentally puts on Samantha's pants, and the two argue about who's skinnier. Roll credits. <ul> <li> Location: Hollyweird <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-02-28T18:28:33-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1054954053.html Letter to Lindsay Lohan &amp; Samantha Ronson text Roommate needed, but try not to actually live here, just pay http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1009337125.html Seeking a roommate for a hypothetical apartment share, search criteria as I've been finding on other Craiglist ads. I prefer a roommate who has an outside job, so they are not at home most of the week, and travel often, because I just want your rent money and don't actually want you living here. No music, no pets, absolutely no overnight guests! Please refrain from showing any aspect of your humanity and/or ability to love. You may have seen this ad up for six weeks, and that is because I can't find anyone who suits my ridiculous needs. This does not tell me to modify them, rather, I simply place new ads. This time I checked "cat and dog" okay, although under no circumstances are you to bring an animal into my home. Perhaps someone else wrote this ad for me, and checked that box unbeknownst to me. At least, that is the story I will stick to when you call. I can't be bothered to be aware of the ads regarding my own apartment. Far be it from me to be realistic, I will behave as if I'm offering you an opportunity to live a life of LA luxury; however, it's just the smallest room available in my apartment that I obviously can't afford alone. Despite my personal economic situation, your lack of a high-paying job will not be acceptable. Actors and other artists are today's lepers. Stay in your colonies. Nowhere on Earth is a living room considered a private room, except in my magical apartment. This is because I have hung a magic sheet. Also, I will subject you to a CIA-level background check, and credit check, as well as require first and last month's rent and a security deposit three times the amount anyone could describe as reasonable. There is no lease involved so you will be simply hoping the deposit money isn't lost, but let's face it...it is. Small claims court takes years. I will tell you absolutely nothing about myself. Please send pics. <ul> <li>cats are OK - purrr <li>dogs are OK - wooof <li> Location: Los Angeles <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-26T23:10:03-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/1009337125.html Roommate needed, but try not to actually live here, just pay text girl who dumped me over the phone at 1:30am - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/997392217.html You called me at 1:30 AM to tell me over and over that you don't want to be with me any more. The problem is, I don't know who you are, and I tried to explain that. In retrospect, it would have been more fun to play along, but I was a bit too groggy to think fast. Oh well, next time a wrong number breaks up with me, I'll be ready. Give me a call if you want to practice dumping guys, I guess my number's probably in your phone now. Try to call before 10 though. <ul> <li> Location: 818 <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-18T01:57:45-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/997392217.html girl who dumped me over the phone at 1:30am - m4w text Eager receipient looking for mailman who can really deliver - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/986765444.html Dear USPS, I understand that you're the underdog. In today's digital age, your 6 day a week, "snail mail" service seems strangely out of date. In the past few years dozens of slick, corporate competitors have cropped up across the country, stealing your business and sapping your credibility. Yet I always root for the underdog, USPS, and when friends recommend I FedEx, UPS, or, God forbid, DHL, I always say no. Because you, USPS, are a federal entity. And you're also cheap. Until I moved to Los Angeles, I never had a problem with you. Of course, Freshman year of college I didn't send a lot of mail, but I never noticed anything amiss when I did. However when I moved out of the dorms into the lovely streets of South Central, things started to go awry. Rent checks sent only a few miles would magically arrive weeks or months late, if at all. I looked like a flake, USPS, and it was your fault. I figured these strange disappearances were purely the fault of slackers at Dockweiler station. Yet when I moved up to Pasadena, things only got worse. Packages came days late. Mail received was mostly not mine. Bills never arrived. I was willing to put up with this for a while, USPS, until our November gas bill disappeared, and our gas was shut off for two weeks in December. That's right, USPS, two 39 degree, rainy weeks without hot water, stove, or heat. Not okay. And now you say that the package I delivery confirmed and sent overnight to Los Angeles, 90049, on Tuesday, less than a forty five minutes drive south, is lost. According to the tracking number, it was first sent to Santa Clarita, forty five minutes NORTH, before being "delivered" somewhere in Pasadena this morning. Excuse me? My old rent checks were supposed to arrive at Los Angeles 90043, just nearby. Is there some kind of cursed no man's land in the heart of LA where mailmen are loathe to set foot? If so, you can tell me. I'm a friend. I want to believe you. But if that's not the case, USPS, this behavior is unacceptable. And before you even ask, I know how to use your labeling machines. In fact, I'd sent a check overnight to Idaho just the night before with the same machine. So don't tell me that it's my fault, USPS, that your drivers & sorters cannot read the zip code on the printed labels that your machine spit out. I paid six dollars for you to confirm delivery to the address listed. Not to lose the package two days after it was supposed to arrive. USPS, you need to shape up or ship out. There's already little time in our modern society for a Sunday holiday. I currently have a stack of mail by my door that doesn't belong to me. In fact, the correct addresses are neatly written and often typed, so I could easily walk the neighborhood and deliver them to their proper owners. But I won't. Because that's not my job, USPS. It's yours. So do it right. <ul> <li> Location: Pasadena <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-09T15:18:54-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/986765444.html Eager receipient looking for mailman who can really deliver - w4m text Free downed weather balloon http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/982950921.html Heyo, Over the weekend a weather balloon crashed in my yard. It's about the size of a winebego and still has a lot of its original aluminum siding in tact, although you might have a tough time using it (I can't cut or puncture the stuff, even with a blow torch.) Could probably be used as art, maybe. I would particularly appreciate comments from anyone who works for the Natonal Weather Service, because I guess they use monkeys or something now based on the bones inside. <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-06T15:17:13-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/982950921.html Free downed weather balloon text To the Asian Girl Whom I offended with my Asian-ness - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/979427049.html You: Asian, young(ish), cute, petite, left-of-center, cosmopolitan. Me: The Asian guy you would never dream of giving a second glance. Hi! I’m so sad that you were offended by my very presence at your favorite boutique coffee shop. Seriously, I was just there to do some work and maybe a bit of reading – I didn’t mean to draw attention to the fact that you too, are also Asian. I was just looking for a quiet place to sit, and the seat by you just happened to be open. It’s not like peed all over you, put my arm around your shoulder, and screamed to all the other patrons in a heavy Chinese accent, “She mine! You all stay away!” After I sat down and pulled out Said’s Orientalism (no joke), you, in all of your ignorant glory, proceeded to loudly flirt with the nearest non-Asian man with a pulse to dissuade any romantic overtures from me. Lady, I already know you only date white guys; you don’t even have to open your mouth. Ever since Chad took you out back in high school and made you the envy of all homecoming, you’ve understood the magical power of white boys. Your parents balked until they saw how well Chet treated you and made you so so so happy. You tell yourself you don’t see color lines, and that you’re ending racism by only dating white guys – and you give yourself a little pat on the back every night before dreaming of waking up with beautiful blonde hair. You’ve even thrown in a black guy or two, just to get back at daddy. Asian guys? Like, gag me with a spoon! Hey, I applaud you. You’re totally progressive. Never mind all that bukakke stuff Jeremy keeps wanting to do (I wonder where he gets these ideas?). No need to worry about Scotty’s browser history pointing to asianteensluts.com. Totally normal! What red-blooded American man doesn’t want to bang a Japanese high school girl? Honestly, if I were in your stilettos, I’d do the same thing. If white girls were all over me ‘cause of my nice, smooth skin, my mad computer skills and wispy peach fuzz, I’d ride that white stallion to all glory. But since I’m 6’2”, 200 lbs. with 4% body fat and a PhD, I guess I’ll have to settle for one of our more racist Asian sistahs. <ul> <li> Location: Westside <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-03T21:20:22-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/979427049.html To the Asian Girl Whom I offended with my Asian-ness - m4w text Do you have a small, incontinent dog? PENDING http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/969277952.html ...or perhaps you work for a small dog rescue of some sort. Either way, I have a package of small doggy diapers. I don't want to throw them out coz they are pretty expensive. (as someone with a small, incontnent dog would already know) Please don't try to put them on a cat. It won't work. Trust me. Please contact via email. Pick up only. <ul> <li> Location: San Pedro <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-24T21:15:16-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/969277952.html Do you have a small, incontinent dog? PENDING text Rave: The Ultimate Guide to Breakups http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/961931977.html You can smell it coming. Your paramour has left an ominous message on your voicemail. S/he wants to talk. Perhaps you have been invited to meet him somewhere public. Maybe she's cancelled a date, and is meeting you at your place instead. But you're not an idiot and you can anticipate what's next: your ass is about to get dumped. C'est la vie. Here is your foolproof guide to navigating your breakup. Follow these simple directions and I can guarantee a minimum of stress and heartbreak. If you desire, this technique will ensure your probability of reconciliation is maximized. Want her back? Listen well: 1. On the day you get the news, listen very calmly. Say as little as possible. You will probably hear some BS like, "It's not you - it's me" or "I just need some space for a while" or "let's still be friends"... blah blah blah. Do not argue. Accept everything s/he says. S/he may become emotional. Make no move to comfort him or her. When s/he has finished, do not linger. Say goodbye and leave. If you are in your own home, show him or her the door. A chaste hug is OK, but under NO circumstances should you offer or accept a goodbye kiss, a final quickie, or any of that shit. If you're at a restaurant, do not hang around to split the tab: guys - pay the bill and leave. Ladies - just bail. There is no need to be sterile or brusque, by all means be courteous and kind. Understanding even. But wait until your (now) ex is out of earshot to cry like a bitch. If you get the news over the phone (ouch), the same rules apply. Just hang up. If you get a voice/email message, DO NOT respond. Chances are a relationship that ends electronically can't be salvaged, but don't make things worse by taking the bait. 2. The bad news is, this is the hard part. The good news is, this is the part of the Ultimate Guide to Breakups over which you have the most control. It is the centerpiece of the method, and your stamina during this phase will determine your success later on. Want the secret? Here is is: DO NOTHING. At first you will be sad. Possibly very sad. Get out of the house. Distract yourself. Hang out with your friends - preferably the ones your ex doesn't know too well, because s/he will be checking up on you. Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you contact your ex. For anything. Chances are after a few days s/he will contact you, "just to see how you're doing." Do not respond. Let it go to voicemail. Don't call back. Delete the email. It's that simple. It'll be hard, but hang in there. Don't let your curiosity get the best of you. You are under no obligation to respond to someone who has kicked you to the curb. Maybe you've been together for a while and s/he has left personal items in your home. This is the only circumstance under which it's ok to respond. Wait at least 24 hours before you reply. Tell your ex that you will FedEx his/her stuff. Pay for the fastest method you can afford. If s/he insists upon picking it up, leave it someplace safe and make sure you're NOT there when s/he arrives. Make your interaction courteous and brief. Get off the phone as quickly as possible. If you do not receive a call within a month, you probably won't get a call until s/he drunk dials you many years from now. Move on. The sooner s/he calls you after dumping you, however, the better your chances are for reconciliation. Again, do not call back. Stay tough. You are now in control of the situation. 3. The sooner the first post-breakup call comes, the more calls/texts/emails you will likely receive. DO NOT RESPOND to any of them... yet. In these modern times you may also be privy to his/her evocative facebook updates, blog posts, reality TV show episodes, whathaveyou. Make no contact. If you absolutely must be in the same place at the same time, try to look fit and happy and surrounded yourself with people s/he doesn't know. Right around this time (unless you were dumped for someone else) your ex is beginning to experience the downside of singleness. S/he may be feeling lonely and horny, and start wondering if s/he made the right choice. That is exactly what you want. Let him/her fucking stew in it. Your patience will be rewarded. 4. By now, your ex is curious about you. Maybe s/he's even been seeing some new people. But the fact that you have made a clean break with such poise will be a blow to the ego. Remember, the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference. S/he will be thinking, "Was I really so easy to get over?" and "Gee - maybe it really WAS me." If you've done this right, you will receive a call (or email) inviting you to "hang out." Perhaps the tone will be casual, perhaps it will be desperate. Either way, congratulations for getting this far. The ball is now in your court. 5. Proceed carefully from here. Eagerness could lead to a booty call, but little more. Ask yourself: what do I want? If you want to resume a relationship, wait 48-72 hours before responding. Say you're unavailable at the time your ex suggests, but recommend another meeting time at least a week in the future. You name the place. From here on out, everything is on your terms. 6. Let nature take its course. If your ex is ready to give it another shot, s/he will be dressed like it's a first date. If the sexual tension is palpable, you may choose to knock boots and sort out the details in the sticky afterglow. If you can contain yourself, feign trepidation and ask him/her to meet you again - also in a place you select. Build anticipation. Make him/her work for it. If executed correctly, your ex will be so grateful to have you back s/he will be on his/her very best behavior, possibly for years to come. 7. Repeat as necessary. <ul> <li> Location: Everywhere <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-17T15:00:18-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/961931977.html Rave: The Ultimate Guide to Breakups text My TEETH - m4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/956468849.html I left my Dentures in your Silverado last night. I gave you my number but did not get yours. Please call me asap. I need my teeth. We met in the parking lot of Margarita Jones. Get back to me asap please. Thank you. <ul> <li> Location: West Covina <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-13T09:33:26-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/956468849.html My TEETH - m4m text The girl who took a dump in the Art Institute parking lot! - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/944397175.html I mean, come on! It was like 50 paces to the nearest restroom! I sat there in my car wondering what the hell you were up to - you spent at least 2 minutes scurrying around your parked car, looking to see if the coast was clear. I thought you were going to, like, break into someone else's car or something. Then I guessed you thought you were "safe" and hurried to the front of your car, near the third level stairwell, dropped your pants, squatted and WENT TO IT! For Christ's sake, woman! All the time you spent looking out for passing cars so no one would see you crapping like a dog in public, you could have hustled your lazy ass downstairs and into the building and USED THE DAMNED RESTROOM! Sheesh! Anyway - if you're free later, drop me a line. I was never more turned on in my life. <ul> <li> Location: Santa Monica <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-03T23:53:44-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/944397175.html The girl who took a dump in the Art Institute parking lot! - m4w text Girl seeking WoW player - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/878989144.html Do you like to PvP in the World of Warcraft? Do you want to have sex with a girl playing arena in the eighteen-hundreds bracket? Do you want to have sex with me WHILE I play arena? Continue reading.. I will be playing my druid.. she is in full Season 3 and some Season 4. I play with another female player on her warrior, but she is not going to physically join us.. she will be on vent or skype listening in, but mostly her purpose will be to keep the game going smoothly by letting me know what is happening so I don't have to pay much attention. You must be ok with vaginal and anal penetration, as well as eating me out, and you must be able to finish on me twice within one hour. But more importantly, you must be familiar with the game. You should be not only yelling things like, "Your pussy feels so good on my dick" but also pay some attention to my arena game(s). And be loud. Remember, I'll have my headset on to talk to my partner. "Root him!", "Cyclone so I can pull out and fuck your ass" and so on. You must be kinky, naughty, and very horny. I will be quizzing you, so if you are not sure about your stuff, please do not respond. What you have to do/have in order for me to consider you: - You must have at least one level 70 in equivalent gear, maybe we can chat about it. - You cannot be overweight, but also not the muscle jock body type with a brain the size of a pea. Chubby is BEST! - You must be able to spell. - You must be at least 20 years old and no older than 29. - At least 5'10". - No blondies. - Dark hair, dark eyes - Prefer uncut, but you must be clean. Circumsized will be considered, but not preferred. About me: - I am 5'8" - 150lbs - Blue eyes and brown hair. - I know a lot about video games. - I want to fuck you while I play arena if you fulfill the above requirements. - I am very tight.. I have not had sex in about 8 months. <ul> <li>it's ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-10-14T11:01:45-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/878989144.html Girl seeking WoW player - w4m text Leopard Print Arachnid Bar - Claim at your own peril... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/870206647.html Do you like mixing drinks for friends? Do you like spiders? If you answered yes to those questions, then this bar is for you! Behold this nifty leopard print bar, perfect for swingin' shindigs on your patio or in your home. The upholstery is in very good shape, the rest of the bar has seen better days. It's sort of home made, with wooden compartments in back with sliding doors. It has six 50's looking wooden/metal tipped legs that screw into the bottom. With a bit of work, she could be restored to her former glory. The top could use a new coat of One Shot, or better yet some Formica and aluminum edging. "This is just what I've been looking for, but where do the spiders come in?", you say. Well, this has been sitting on my back patio for four years, we have a BIG spider problem, and some have undoubtedly taken up residence in the back compartments of this bar. You must remove them before carrying this through my house and out the front door. I will provide a broom for this purpose, which you must shake off very vigorously afterward. If you are bitten I will provide a Benedryl quick dissolving strip, bandage, Neosporin and access to my computer so you can determine which sort of spider you were bitten by and which anti-venom is necessary. I will not help you move, carry, or de-spider the bar in any way! This bar is heavy, at least two strong people are needed to carry it. You will need a truck too. If you have an insect problem and were hoping to take the spiders and the bar, that's fine. But you'll need to bring a pulley system and lots of rope or 10 guys on steroids to hoist it over my back fence. Saturdays are good for me. <ul> <li> Location: Beverlywood <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-10-07T12:48:40-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/870206647.html Leopard Print Arachnid Bar - Claim at your own peril... text NEED SARAH PALIN LOOKALIKE ASAP FOR ADULT FILM http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/836109998.html Looking for a Sarah Palin lookalike for an adult film to be shot in next 10 days. Major adult studio. Please send pix, stats etc. ASAP Pay: $2000-3000 No anal required <ul> <li> Location: LA <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests <li> Compensation: $2000-3000 </ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-09-10T20:19:55-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/836109998.html NEED SARAH PALIN LOOKALIKE ASAP FOR ADULT FILM text Free dead (?) frozen wasps & hives (WASPSICLES!!) http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/796769259.html So we had a few colonies of wasps in our backyard. The Fire Dept wouldn't take care of them so we went after them with soap and water sprayer. Minimal stinging. We got them all and they're frozen and well-preserved specimens....about 3 dozen i guess. I have pics. You can have what my G/F doesn't dissect. <ul> <li> Location: North Hills <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-08-14T12:25:16-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/796769259.html Free dead (?) frozen wasps & hives (WASPSICLES!!) text Worst. Apartment. Ever. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/716584559.html Come live in a real honest-to-goodness shithole. We take great pride in our inability to keep good tenants happy. Do you pay your rent on time every month? We will reward you by increasing it to the maximum allowable limit every year like clockwork. Love hot water for your morning shower? Who doesn't? Well, you won't find those kind of luxuries here. The water temperature is tepid at best. And if your bathtub stops draining, you'll be billed for the repair, even though that's illegal. Don’t worry when the ceiling leaks on sunny days. That’s the pipes above the ceiling that are leaking. All repairs will be made by unlicensed handymen found in the Home Depot parking lot. We will attempt to clean your stained couch cushions in our own laundry facility, right on the premises. We won’t do a very good job, though. What do you care? You live in a shithole. Speaking of our laundry facility, please note that you will have a difficult time finding available washers & dryers. This is due to the fact that our on-site managers allow their various family members to do laundry when they make weekly visits. Even though you see air-conditioners in two other apartments, do not be fooled into thinking that you too may enjoy electrically cooled rooms. Should you decide to install one in your unit, you will find an eviction notice taped to your front door. We also like to snoop around your apartment once a month under the guise of smoke alarm checks. Enjoy the beautiful pool--but only during the week. Here's the schedule: Every Saturday at 10 AM the gardener uses his leaf blower to fill the pool with leaves & debris. It remains this way until the pool cleaner comes by on Monday. Perfect for kids that don’t yet have health problems. The neighborhood gang activity keeps things lively as well. The dealers are all within walking distance. Convenient for drug users who are fed up with high gas prices. Enjoy real culture with vibrant artists ‘tagging’ their area. See that broken glass on the curb? That’s where a local artist liberated the contents of a car the night before. It’s OK, the owner needed a new stereo with iPod hook-ups anyway. Win-win. We can’t imagine why this apartment has been vacant for over six months. Large 2 bedroom 1 bath, newly painted, vertical blinds, ceiling fan, new appliances, pool, gated parking, new roof, laundry facilities, no pets, one year lease. Near Amoeba music, Arclight theaters, 24 hour fitness, The LA Film School, Sunset & Highland. <ul> <li> Location: Hollywood <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-06-11T15:56:10-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/716584559.html Worst. Apartment. Ever. text For Sale—One (1) Wife, slightly used, 1964 Model http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/641609489.html Needs muffler, as it is currently VERY LOUD. Intake valve is stuck in the open position. Rear end needs major overhaul. A crack there has grown monstrously large. Needs re-wiring—Many wires are currently crossed. Lots of little dings in the body, which have been covered up with too much paint in a failed effort at camouflaging them. Needs re-upholstering—Carpet has turned a dingy gray. Needs front-end work--Headlights are too close to the ground, and fenders are too far apart. May not pass emissions test, as it currently produces foul clouds of malodorous gases on a regular basis, Heater works great. Hot air is never in short supply.. Asking $500 or trade for 1984 model. <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-04-14T02:09:06-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/641609489.html For Sale—One (1) Wife, slightly used, 1964 Model text i'm a producer dammit, why won't women have sex with me?! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/596842076.html for the life of me, i can't seem to figure out what's going on here. i did all the things that i thought i was supposed to do to put myself in position to score ungodly amounts of hollywood poon. i got an undergrad degree in business from nyu. then i move to LA and complete the Peter Stark producing program at USC. while there i take full advantage of the networking and resume building connections that such an educational stint provides. i graduate and get a job with a major studio. i have a business card with my name on it. under my name is my job title. "producer." so where are the legions of young starlets aching for me to tongue-fuck their puckered brown-eyes? i mean, look, when i was 15 i read robert evans' autobiography, "the kid stays in the picture." there i was, short, mildly chubby, pimple-faced, cursed with a hideous jewfro, unable to get even a nut massage from the homeliest looking humans at horace mann in possession of vaginas, but i figured that if portly, profusely perspirating gasbags like don simpson can have bitches cat-fighting over who gets to blow the next rail off of his diseased cock, certainly i can get laid modestly well if i became a producer. now i go out to parties and clubs and tell women that i'm a producer and they look at me as if i told them that i have fucking SARS! every night ends with me cruising pornotube at 3am in search of just the right clip to sufficiently inspire me to rub one out into a goldtoe nylon sock. WTF?!   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: West Hollywood <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-03-05T16:22:34-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/596842076.html i'm a producer dammit, why won't women have sex with me?! text Dear Computer Science Professor - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/549480594.html Dear Computer Science Professor, You're not that attractive. If I thought you were the type that drank beer, I would say that your beer belly extends over your belt in a pretty gross way. But since, in my imagination, I picture you as more of a body shot kind of guy, I'm guessing you have an unhealthy love of pizza and other carbohydrates that will one day lead to severely clogged arteries and possibly an early death. You are in your late twenties (I think), yet you still have baby fat on your face, and you don't shave. You think you are much funnier than you actually are, you use 1337 speak when you lecture, and you have spent multiple semesters in the same classroom without realizing that the same whiteboard markers have been there the whole time and they WILL NEVER work. Please buy new ones. Now, I don't think I'm the hottest girl to ever walk this earth, but I have my admirers. I'm young, I'm thin, I've got a nice rack and a cute butt, and I'd consider myself a solid 7.5 or even an 8 or an 8.5 on a good day. If you tried to approach me at a bar, my friends would laugh in your face. If we met anywhere else but in the classroom, I'd say I'm out of your league and you should go find some older chubby chick you could eat pizza in front of the television with. Since we met in class, however, things are different. See, I have this really twisted tendency to lust after men in positions of authority. Maybe it's because I never met my father, or because I like to be dominated in bed, I don't know. The point is, Computer Science Professor, that I want you. Bad. It's getting to the point that going to class makes me uncomfortable because I'm fantasizing about you so much I'm afraid I'm making googly eyes at you when you talk. You know what's even worse? My ex boyfriend is in the class with me. And I think he knows I want you. And I don't think you know that he's my EX. But he is. So, you know, if you ever want to invite me to your office hours, lock the door, clear off your desk, bend me over and fuck me 'til I scream, you're welcome to, because I'm unattached. So, dear computer science professor, if you see this, I just want you to know that I want you in a completely unhealthy way. I'm not really the casual sex type (in fact, I haven't had sex in over a year) but I think I could waive that rule for you. It would be pretty cool if we could exchange sex for grades, but that's up to you. I'd settle for the sex. I don't do anal, but I give really good head. If you're interested, let me know. Lust, Your B Student  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-01-23T17:57:28-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/549480594.html Dear Computer Science Professor - w4m text Things I DON'T Need for Christmas http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/511745944.html Disclaimer: Before anyone thinks, "Fine you asshole. I hope you get nothing for Christmas!" please realize that I don't want or need anything for Christmas. In fact, that is the whole point here. I'm 26 and have a nice career. If I need something, I don't ask Santa for it. I fucking buy it like an adult. What do I want for Christmas? I don't know....sleep I guess. What I can tell you is this: Here are some things that I don't want this holiday season: #1. Novelty Boxer Shorts Unless the woman you’re trying to seduce has a fantasy about fucking a clown, there’s no reason to ever be wearing underwear covered in images of Snoopy and Charlie Brown. “But it’s a holiday theme!” Terrific, but that doesn’t change the fact that the girl I’m undressing in front of is now trying to decide whether to fuck me or read me a Bernstein Bears story. #2. Whatever “For Dummies” book pertains to the career I’m actively pursuing I know that certain scientific laws make it impossible to give gifts that aren’t tangible like “running” or in this case, “spitting in my face,” but I must say, you’ve come close with your choice to give me this, “For Dummies” book. I know you don’t understand what I do for a living, but just because Michael Douglas didn’t pay for a limo to drop me off at the party you shouldn’t assume that I’m failing miserably. Your lack of faith wouldn’t be more obvious if you just gave me a job application to Wal-Mart. #3. The DVD first season of some short-lived, completely forgettable show There is absolutely no reason anyone (including Andy Griffith) should ever need to have instant access to any specific episode of Matlock. Is this one where Matlock wastes the court’s time to make reference to his love of Southern cooking or is it the one where the black guy goes to a seedy bar and uses his street smarts to wrangle information? The whole point of daytime television is to bore people into canning the “I’m sick” bullshit so they can get back to work. #4. The gift from the out of touch relative who thinks I’m 2 decades younger than I actually am A vintage Star Wars lunch box! Oh neat, it even snaps shut so there’s no way my sandwich, chips, or chances of ever having sex again will fall out. Perfect. I’ll set it on top of that dresser I keep my baseball cards in. Honestly, if I didn’t use my penis to urinate, your gifts would make me forget that I have one. #5. The Obvious Last-Minute Gift Forgive me if I can’t honestly believe that your intention a month ago was to get me a porcelain cat figurine for Christmas despite my never owning a cat and even going out of my way to express my intense hatred for cats. We’ve all been there, but next time you’re picking up a gift for me at the gas station on the way to my house, go ahead and just grab some beer. And if you don’t mind grabbing the mail on the way in, I’d love that too. #6. The really small gift card for the big, expensive store Wow, $10 to Barney’s New York! Now if I can just scrape together another 10 out of my own pocket, they’ll let me lie on the floor while the night janitor urinates on my chest and face. #7. Any type of donation being made in my name Even though I think Karma is merely a way to keep morons from enjoying themselves, I do know that if it does exist, it doesn’t work like a gift card. In other words, I can’t do something nice and have the Karma points be added to your account. If you really want to distract God from what a huge asshole I am, just help me build this brick wall in front of the hooker I’m about to have sex with. #8. Christmas decorations Gifts that offer a type of delayed satisfaction are fine when it’s something like concert tickets. However, giving someone a Christmas decoration as a gift on Christmas will make people hope aloud that you didn’t drive yourself there. In fact, it’s so ridiculous; it actually creates feelings of sadness and pity rather than disbelief. Your friends and family will wonder if you even know how the holiday works. Some might even wonder why you didn’t just take it to the max and hand out coupons offering to help shovel dirt onto their coffin after they’ve passed away. #9. Involvement in any type of office gift swap thing Whoever declared that the process of a 2-hour exchange of gag gifts was funny needs to slip back into their coma for a few more years. “Oh ha! You got me a half a deck of playing cards and I got you Fun Dip! Hilarious!” The only reason assholes like Scrooge make their employees work late on Christmas Eve is because from 10am to 3pm, those same employees were pissing away company money with trivial gift exchanges. Wrapping up boxes of paper clips and handing them out as gifts isn’t entertaining. It’s a sign of Alzheimer’s. #10. A starter set for some obscure hobby I have zero interest in and am pretty sure you also have zero interest in. Alright! A butterfly net with a book about catching and identifying butterflies! Is there a head injury I’m going to have soon and don’t know about yet? If ever the day arrives that I’m reduced to the type of mongoloid who spends his days puttering around the backyard with a butterfly net, I give you full permission to take me down to the creek, tell me about the rabbit farm, and then blow my fucking brains out. #11. Any gift that serves as an attempt to include me in whatever cultish fad you’re currently wasting your time with. Yes, I’ve heard of The Secret and honestly I’m glad you’ve found something to momentarily distract you from the fact that your job is slowly driving you to suicide and you’re about a spilled drink on the couch away from your third divorce. However, because I don’t see you often enough to warrant showing any real concern with your life, please realize that it’s just easier for me smile and nod in response to whatever cup of poisonous Kool-Aid you happen to be drinking at the moment than to give you my honest opinion. All I ask is that you just leave me the hell out of it. I’m pretty into porn, but you won’t see me trying to throw that at you…except for redtube.com. It’s pretty impressive with the search engine and what not. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Santa Monica <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-12-17T01:25:08-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/511745944.html Things I DON'T Need for Christmas text Writer / End Of The World. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/508818312.html I am making a small book and needs fact in regard to End of the world. If you believe that now is the end of the world and you have solid fact I will buy the info from you for $5.00 each fact, For example you can say: According to ABCD- EFG this is the end of the world. I need a total of 200 solid believable facts it equals $1000. I will buy as little as 1 fact for $5.00 All payments are done by paypal.com please do-not email any facts until you have talked to me and you get a confirmation. You can call or email for us to call you back. <a href="http://karimmovies.com/" rel="nofollow">http://karimmovies.com/</a> 23852 pch #720 malibu,ca.90265 310-488-0403 <a href="http://imdb.com/company/co0174530/" rel="nofollow">http://imdb.com/company/co0174530/</a>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Hollywood <li> Compensation: $1000 <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 2007-12-13T22:18:18-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/508818312.html Writer / End Of The World. text "What Happened to All the Nice Guys?" http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/483318927.html I see this question posted with some regularity in the personals section, so I thought I'd take a minute to explain things to the ladies out there that haven't figured it out. What happened to all the nice guys? The answer is simple: you did. See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He'd tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn't feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you. At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were "just friends." Besides, he totally wasn't your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fat, or too poor, or didn't know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease. Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren't the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship. So, now, you're single again, and after having tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and douche bags, you wonder, "What happened to all the nice guys?" Well, once again, you did. You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive "just-a-" friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren't really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you're upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he'd have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an asshole than he ever wanted to be. Fact is, now, he's probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I'm sorry that it took the complete absence of "nice guys" in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that. So, if you're looking for a nice guy, here's what you do: 1.) Build a time machine. 2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your ass. 3.) Take a look at what's right in front of you and grab ahold of it. I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don't really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you. If you were five years younger. So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you've fucked yourself over. You're getting older, after all. It's time to excise the bullshit and deal with reality. You didn't want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn't fucking want you, now. Sincerely, A Recovering Nice Guy  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: LA <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-19T03:52:35-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/483318927.html "What Happened to All the Nice Guys?" text Bad News About The Screeching Bird on Rossmore...... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/351233174.html Do you own a bird? Do you live on Rossmore Avenue? If so, I'm afraid I must give you some bad news: Your bird is possessed by the Devil. I know, it's never easy to hear this. But I have 40 years experience doing exorcisms for the church, and there is no other explanation for the Pterodactyl-like screeching sounds it makes day and night. In my expert opinion, the only way to set your bird free is to literally set it free. Open a window and allow it to fly away. Knowing that your bird won't have the same captive audience in every resident of Rossmore Avenue, The Prince of Darkness will reluctantly release his grip on your bird's soul. If you want your bird to live in peace, this is the only way. Also moving to a new neighborhood will do the trick.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Hancock Park <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-06-13T08:30:42-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/351233174.html Bad News About The Screeching Bird on Rossmore...... text A Memo to Straight Women Seeking A Gay Male Friend http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/336540406.html Hi there. I am a gay man living in Los Angeles. Let me just say that I have many women friends. And I applaud the open-minded, progressive attitudes most straight women seem to have nowadays. However, I have noticed that we've crossed over into a place where some women are just a little too comfortable with homosexuality. "Too much tolerance" you say? I'll explain. Honestly, I am flattered when a woman says something along the lines of "you're cute. Too bad you're not straight." That's nice to hear. I'm not going into some PC tirade over a compliment. You know what though? I only need to hear it once. My friend's friend says it every time I see her. She does the rubbing my upper back back, hands in my hair shit. And you know what I want to say? "LISTEN. My being gay isn't the only reason it would never happen." Like, back the fuck up. And she's also volunteered to be my beard at events. "Great, we'll time travel to the 1950s when people in LA last did that." I think "Will and Grace" has instructed an entire generation of women that gay men are dying - DYING! - to be your friend and indulge your every co-dependent and neurotic whim. We'll be there in a clinch with a "you go girl!" or "you look fierce!" Because we all love to say that stuff and many other quippy zingers. Last Monday night, a woman at a bar came up to me and asked me if I was single. Not to disparage her, but let's just say I was happy to shut her down right away with an abrupt "I'm gay." And you know what? THAT DID NOT DETER HER. She LIT up and said, "We can go shopping together and you can watch me play with myself with my Rabbit." Ugggggghhhh... Do you ever not even know where to begin? I wanted to say, "Yes, please, I am in the habit of befriending bar skanks in the first ten seconds of talking to them. And despite my lack of sexual attraction to women, I would simply LOVE to watch you get yourself off. JACKPOT!" As far as the shopping thing goes: I love saying "I'm not really into shopping" and I just stand back and wait for their heads to explode. Their precious "Will and Grace" never prepared them for that possibility! Call me uptight but I'm also against using the word "fag" aimed at me in some joking, campy way to demonstrate how comfortable you are with my being gay. This has happened to me. It's like a folksy gay-bashing without the exclamation point of the beatings. Let's from now on consult what I call "The Nigger Test" to see if a carefree epithet really is appropriate. The way it works is that when you want to call me "fag" you imagine instead that I'm black and that you're going to call me "nigger" in some whimsical, ironic way. If you would in fact drop the N bomb, then by all means, proceed! Also, please refrain from referring to your gay friend as "my Will" or yourself as "Grace." That's totally queer. It was an okay show that's been off the air for over a year. Move on. And lastly, just because you know another gay man who is single DOES NOT MEAN WE WOULD MAKE A PERFECT MATCH. I appreciate the desire to see me paired up but most women (or straight men who attempt this) think pairing up gays is as difficult as a game of Concentration. "Hey... there's one... there's another... done!" "This guy you want to pair me up with... what does he like to do in his free time? Does he vote? Does he read? Like to go out? Stay in? You don't know? So you just know his name and sexual orientation." PASS. And while I've got nothing against the uber-feminine gay men, and respect that they have a much tougher path than gay men who seem straight, please do not fix me up with them. Because I am not attracted to them, which you would know if you'd asked any of the pertinent questions before acting as a one-woman Match.com. In closing, I am a friendly guy and like knowing people from all walks of life. But straight girls, just dial down the desperation level a couple of notches and find a more constructive way to deal with the void that the cancellation of "Sex and the City" has left in your life. (Full disclosure: I'm a total Miranda!) If we're meant to be friends, you'll let me breathe and know me for me, not as the hot urban accessory of the gay male friend. Thank you. I feel so much better.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Los Angeles <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-05-22T22:30:29-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/336540406.html A Memo to Straight Women Seeking A Gay Male Friend text So you want to ride me? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/302677766.html Hi, I’m your elevator. Before you ride me I'd like to give you a brief tutorial to ensure maximum enjoyment. First, let’s talk about how to get on me. Button Pressing: When waiting for an elevator precisely none or all of the soon-to-be riders should press the button to call for the elevator. Any number in between is unacceptable. Holding the Door: Upon entering/exiting the elevator there shall be an understood, but unspoken, competition between male riders to see who can go to the greatest length to hold the door open. This will often result both doors being held open for an excessive period of time. The competition shall not end until a minimum of three “Go ahead”s, accompanied by head motions, have been exchanged. Exceptions: 1. If an unsavory rider (Fat, homeless, from a rival firm etc.) is attempting to board the elevator all passengers may claim to have not seen them. In the event eye contact with the undesirable rider-to-be has been made, passengers should claim to have not been able to locate the ‘Open Door’ button in time. Congratulations, you’ve made it on me! Now let's discuss the correct configuration for X number of riders. There are two of you? Person A goes in the near corner, person B goes in the opposite corner, furthest from person A. This is similar to the distribution of men at public urinals. If two people know each other and the third is a stranger, the former should stand next to each other at a spot of their choosing and the latter should stand at the spot furthest from the pairing. If all thee persons are unknown to each other then they shall form an equilateral triangle with all parties as far from each other as space permits. This shall also apply to groups of three where all parties are known to each other. For groups of four each person shall stand in one corner of the elevator, regardless of relationship between the riders. In the event of a round or other oddly shaped elevator the geometric shape providing the most distance between riders shall be used. This may be a square, rectangle, parallelogram, rhombus, or trapezoid. Consult the nerdiest looking person on the elevator for guidance. For five or more people the rules are simple. The configuration of passengers is not important. All that matters is the number of people mentioning how crowded the elevator is. See Exception 4 of ‘Talking on the Elevator’ Now that we’ve got that squared away, let’s discuss situations that may arise while riding me. Foul Odors: In the event it becomes clear that someone has passed gas or any other undesirable human generated smell is present it shall not be mentioned until all parties have exited the elevator. Exceptions: 1. In situations where the passengers are comprised of both parties known to each other and strangers, it shall be acceptable for discussion to commence once all strangers have exited the elevator. The discussion shall be limited to blaming the strangers. 2. In social situations where all parties are male and well known to each other it shall be acceptable to fart as loudly as possible. Silent but deadly farts are not permitted. Disabled Riders: In the event a handicapped (wheelchair bound, retarded, blind etc.) attempts to get on the elevator all parties, regardless of relationship, shall immediately cram as far back as possible. Immediate offers of assistance shall be made. After elevator riding is concluded one or more parties shall mention how noble it is of the disabled person to continue working despite their affliction. This will be done out of earshot of the person in question. (Note: One joke about the blind guy driving to work, the deaf guy answering the phone, the wheelchair guy getting the best parking spot etc. shall be permitted provided the person proffering the joke precedes it with a statement about how "he is going to hell for this") Talking on the Elevator: There will be no talking on the elevator, even amongst persons known to each other. Exceptions: 1. A head nod coupled with a short, but firm, "hi" is acceptable. Please note this also is similar to men’s bathroom etiquette. 2. If you are an asshole carrying a Blackberry please continue your conversation once boarding the elevator. You should be sure to double the volume of your voice. Also, sales figures should be needlessly mentioned and automatically rounded up to the nearest billion, regardless of accuracy. 3. Conversations about how there is never any conversation on elevators are permitted. Discussing the irony therein is not permitted. 4. When five or more riders are present it is mandatory to make mention of this. At least one reference to the weight/passenger limit of the elevator should be made. Floor Requirements: All elevator riders are required to travel a minimum of 2 floors. Ex. If you are on the first floor and you press the button for the second floor, all other passengers are entitled to give you the evil eye for the duration of the ride. Exceptions: 1. If you are actually disabled. See section on ‘Disabled Riders’. Eye Contact: Making prolonged eye contact on the elevator is strictly forbidden. If a rider finds himself meeting eyes with another rider both shall immediately cast their gaze upon the floor. The rider who can correctly identify the shoes of all the other riders wins. Exceptions: 1. When two or more male passengers are known to each other, brief eye contact and a knowing smile are acceptable after an attractive female, which they have both obviously eye-fucked, exits the elevator. One of the male parties is also allowed, but not required, to proclaim “Daaamn” after the doors have fully shut. The length of the ‘aaa’ shall correspond to the hotness of the female. A vulgar explanation of “what I’d do to that ass” is also acceptable. 2. Provided there are no other passengers on the elevator, a rider is allowed to stare down the blind guy, just for shits and grins. If, through some form of extrasensory perception, the blind guy notices, he is allowed to hit the other rider with his cane or allow his dog one free bite on a body part of his choosing. 3. See ‘Floor Requirements’ Getting off: Once the rider has reached his chosen floor he should promptly exit the elevator before allowing other passengers on. It may be necessary to use elbows and/or briefcases to fend off overanxious riders-to-be. Use force liberally. Exceptions: 1. If the hot girl from marketing is getting on the elevator it is permissible to delay exiting long enough to ‘accidentally’ brush up against her. I hope you enjoyed riding me as much as I enjoyed being taken for a ride! Signed, Your Elevator   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Office buildings everywhere <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-03-29T13:17:09-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/302677766.html So you want to ride me? text Thank you for folding my laundry, please stop having sex. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/263401527.html Dear Colette, You've been the only neighbor in my building to actually look me in the eye and say "hello" since I moved here two years ago. Thank you. When my laundry is done and you need to use the machine, instead of wadding it up and dumping it on the laundry room table I know it's you that folds my little black panties and places them neatly back in my basket. Thank you. You live next door to me and I've learned to live with your tacky plaster fish molds that sit next to your door on top of the fire alarm, probably causing a fire hazard. It's ok that you have awful taste. You're sixty years old, and you don't wear a bra which might be why your breasts and belt are on the same parallel, but hey, you smell like my grandma so I like you regardless. Also, is your hair naturally maroon? It matches your blush splendidly. Tammy Faye would be jealous. Now recently I've noticed a man that made my high school geometry teacher look like Don Juan parking behind your car in our lot. He terrifies me and tucks his t shirts into his khaki pants that are hiked way too high up on his twinkie loving gut. The image of you two in the same room haunts me, but please... Please... For the love of Sweet Baby Jesus... STOP fucking him when I'm home too!! We are dealing with paper thin walls here! I hear every little breathy "Oh yes" and your t shirt tucking friend sounds like he's playing football instead of making love. Do you like that grunt he makes when he comes? Maybe I'm wrong, maybe you just really like to watch him pass gall stones because that's what it sounds like he's doing. Gross. Stop. Please. Amen for getting some at your age, but honestly, I'm gone every evening from 5:30 to midnight. Can you do it then? Sincerely, Your Neighbor   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-01-16T02:13:17-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/263401527.html Thank you for folding my laundry, please stop having sex. text My Son Is A Moron... He Did Not Come From My Loins... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/184295834.html You do everything you can for your kids. God knows I've tried. But it seems like God enjoys a good joke, now and then. I was raised in a strict household. My parents bore offspring from the early-50's to the mid-60's. I was around the middle of this brood. With nine mouths to feed, we did not have a lot of extras. We worked for simple things, like bicycles. Nothing wrong with that. It's what we knew. And we were given a great foundation, on which we could create a life for ourselves. As I said, my parents were strict - which made me not wish to be such with my kids. Ah, my kids... I'm in my forties, and the wife is a bit younger. I make a fine income, and try not to sweat anything. I get up... have coffee... look out at the ocean... read the paper... move onto my business. I appreciate not having a house full of screaming kids in the morning (something that was impossible when I grew up). All I ask of my kids is to; a) be respectful of everyone, b) be honest c) get good grades, d) clean their rooms. I do not ask for much, nor do I demand much. However... that is going to change tonight. Events that occurred this morning will bring about change like these kids have never known. The wife has kept me in the dark about some things as well. It's my fault. I accept it. But I can reverse this downward trend - now. My generation (baby-boomers) has found that it is easier to go around a wall, than climb over over it - or knock it down. I'm as guilty as anyone. My guilt turned into rage this morning. My son (and my wife) convinced me that he NEEDED a car (he's seventeen). I was not keen on a kid driving, that has trouble standing a surfboard, or walking down the stairs without tripping. But I relented (again, why fight it). With some stipulations, we aquired a car for this child. The rules were put in place, and he proclaimed we were the greatest parents in the worls. Uh huh... It's 12:00pm, and he has yet to get out of bed. His mother has been instructed to tell my prodigy that he is GROUNDED. We have never done this, but we are today. And I mean GROUNDED in his room! Not out by the pool. Not in the gameroom. His cluttered abode is where he better be when I get home tonight. And I'm going to be stopping for a drink, first. I deserve a drink after this morning. Let me tell you about my day. I go out to my car in the driveway (I have a three-car garage - and "hers" is the only one that fits inside). My insanely over-priced piece of shit refuses to start today (3rd time in 2 months - the car is 6-monthss old). Okay... I call 'AAA'; it will 45-60 minutes. No time to wait. Okay... I'm going to take my kids' car. I go in and retrieve the keys (everyone is till asleep @ 8am). I leave a note telling him to call me. His car is down the street at a friends house. Why? He claimed that our driveway was too crowded (and the other kids might scratch it). Okay... I find his car... set off the alarm... Shit! People, one word; LOJACK. Goddamn, I hate those alarms. Anyways I get in the car, after noticing the REALLY nice rims & tires on it. Hmmm, how did he pay for those? WHEN, did he get those? I get in, and notice a new STEERING WHEEL... without the AIRBAG - that I demanded he have. Oh, this car is totally bitchin' dude! It gets better... I start it up... A huge racket comes from the exhaust (not stock anymore!)... And the stereo starts screaming out profanities! The backseat is now occupied by a huge box with speakers in it... and fast-food trash... and 'ziz-zag' papers... and empty 'trojan' wrappers (a chip off the 'ole block). To say the least I am pissed. I proceed to drive this rattling, screaming (I tear the faceplate off - finally), piece of doo-doo down the road. I swear, I think I awakened everyone in the neighborhood. I head out onto PCH, and drive less than a mile... when MB's finest pulls me over... WTF? I know I wasn't speeding. The officer comes up to the car, and asks for my license and insurance card... I hand over the license, and tell him I'm not sure where the insurance card is - 'it's my son's car'... "look in the glovebox" (he is - actually - smiling now)... I open the glovebox... and a small BONG falls out... I look at him... he looks at me... This is not happening! Oh, but it is. The first thing I say is 'it's not mine!'... "um, sir, could you step out of the car, please"... I get out, and we step onto the sidewalk. He tells me he stopped me for having an illegal exhaust (no shit - it sounds like two-dozen weedwhackers coming down the street). He also informs me that there are plenty more violations on this car... And I start laughing... He asks why am I laughing... And I tell him how my day is going. "What about the water-pipe?" Indeed! I inform him that this is all a surprise to me, but I would like him to write up everything that is illegal about the vehicle. He looks at me like I'm crazy. But I want my kid to learn a lesson. And the officer obliges me. He, even, finds some weed in the trunk... 17 tickets later, we are finished... almost... I ask him if I can keep all of the drug paraphenalia? "Why?" I want my kid to destroy it. I want this kid to know his "fuck-off" days are over. The officer agrees. I could see he was wishing he could be there tonight, for the "lesson". He was pretty decent about the whole thing. This guy took, almost, a half-hour to go through all of this paperwork - and search. I thank him, and head out... He tells me if I get stopped again today, that I should show all the citations to the other officer - and I should not have any problems... Problems?!! We have problems. I have lost control of my family. My wife is a co-conspirator. She has just been told that I want a listing of all of our household bills & accounts. 'Yes, dear - we are going to perform an audit'. She is protesting, but I do not care. This is war. I know my family loves me, but they have played me for a fool. I may be a fool, but I am not dumb. She does not know that I just found out my son is in Summer school, because of bad grades. She doesn't know that DMV has provided me with her, and his, records; apparently they have a problem with obeying traffic laws. It's not going to be easy, but something must be done. I swear, I feel like I have become my father... I want the best for my family, and feel something radical must happen. I can only hope they - truly - understand it is for our own good. Some things that will be addressed tonight; 1) Son's vehicle is gone; oil up that chain on your bicycle. 2) All three kids will empty out the garage; sell it/ donate it/ whatever. 3) Mom will have a household budget. 4) Chores - that's right; everyone will have assigned chores. 5) Chores will be done, before anything else. 6) Homework will be done daily, before dinner. * Or, immediately after sports events, but always prior to 10pm. 7) Son's tickets will be paid with his allowance. 8) Son is grounded for the rest of the summer. 9) Son will study from 8am until 4pm - daily, durint the rest of summer vacation. 10) Videogames are banned from 10pm until 6pm - daily. 11) Everyone will be up by 8am - daily. 12) The youngest child is on a diet - now. 13) Mother will inform father of ALL infractions. 14) Dad will be home by 6pm - daily. 15) Everyone will eat dinner, together. 16) Mom will cook dinner - and it better not come out of the microwave. 17) The maid is being given four weeks notice. * That is going to be fun - I may not see a sexual interlude for awhile. 18) Dad is getting a new car, and parking it in his garage. 19) Son may get a USED car, when his grades are A's & B's, for two - consecutive - semesters. 20) Mom and son are to attend driving school. 21) Son will explain drug usage - completely, or face rehab & boarding school. 22) Mom will be weaned off of her "medications"; NOW. 23) Children will make their own lunches, for school; no more money for shitty school food. 24) NO soda. Maybe, when we dine out. Maybe, on the weekends. 25) NO MySpace accounts, or any other assinine accounts - a computer geek will check all of their computers - monthly (they need fear put into their lives). 26) Dad will attend all school functions. 27) Everyone will be present for all birthdays. 28) Children will wear clothes that Dad approves of. 29) Mom will dress daughter like a little girl; not a 'hoochie-mama'. * and - definitely - no "juicy" pants on her bottom! 30) Daughter will not have any underwear, except for briefs. 31) Sons will not be told to pull up their pants, or face having said pants donated. 32) NO 'Rap' music, within Dad's hearing range. 33) NO tattoos, until you are out of my house. 34) NO piercings (except for daughter's ears), until you are out of my house. 35) NO dyeing of hair, until you are out of my house. Did I miss something? I'm continuing to add to the list... Tell me if I missed something... Tell me if I'm wrong... I've seen those "wife-swap" & "nanny" shows... I hate to think that is my life... Wish me luck... I may be sleeping on the patio tonight...  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Long Letter From Manhattan Beach <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-20T13:39:37-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/184295834.html My Son Is A Moron... He Did Not Come From My Loins... text DO NOT EAT PRINGLES FAT FREE POTATO CHIPS. THEY WILL GREASE YOUR ASS. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182862349.html Don't even fucking say a word. I like potato chips, and can't eat them very much or I'll get fat. I tried out these Pringles Fat-Free chips because they were super low-cal. BBQ flavor. the fuck. The can said they had 70 calories per serving, which meant the whole can had 490 calories inside total. I could munch through a can in a day with my lunch, dinner, etc. So I got several cans, and began enjoying one a day for the past four days. But what they dont fucking tell you... Except in tiny print you cant read without a fucking electron microscope ...is that the primary ingredient is something called "olean" which I have since learned is Latin for "Unwashable & Indestructible Ass Grease." Oh Yeah. I'm not even kidding. So today, while I'm standing in the living room debating whether or not Laundry or Dishes will get done first, I get the urge to fart. I live alone, so sweet. I let the honk loose and its wrong. Something just sounded wrong. I know my own wind, and I have never farted a sound that sounded like a fart wrapped in a pillow. Oh yes, something was very wrong. I had just shat myself. But this evil olean makes shitting yourself sound almost like a regular fart, and had I not been particularly attentive, it could easily have gone unnoticed, I'm telling you. THAT's how utterly covert and evil this olean stuff is. What the fuck?! What if I'd gone out to hang with friends or gone for a drive, what then? So I walk carefully to the bathroom and disrobe. before I even sit on the toilet, I wad paper and carefully wipe from the front. Sure enough, it was light brown, and had the texture of soft spackle. You fucking Pringle bastards. I sat down and pushed a bit, and lo, out came a jet that I didnt even feel an urge for one minute earlier. It piled in the bowl like brown marshmallow fluff. The problem rose when I tried to wipe. I went through a whole fucking roll of TP and could not get it all off me. So. I jumped in the shower. Yep, its gross, but it had to be done. There I stood, water pouring down, cheeks spread, and using my own hand to make certain I'm clean. That was when I discovered that after using my hand to wipe myself (before I soaped the area) my hand came back covered in some sort of transparent grease. It was so fucking foul. The grease made water bead off my hand. It was tacky too, and very difficult to manage. So I grabbed the bar of saop and went to work. You fucking Pringle bastards. The bar of soap came away coated in grease as well, and would no longer wash. I had to turn the water to hot and massage the soap for five minutes to get it to the point where I could use it again. It took me an hour to get the fucking grease off my pucker. I shudder to think of what its doing INSIDE ME right now, but I will damned sure never eat that shit again. Fucking Pringle bastards. This is where the joke about "anal leakage" came from. its real. Fuck Pringles.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around ANAL LEAKAGE, ANYBODY? <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-17T02:10:53-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182862349.html DO NOT EAT PRINGLES FAT FREE POTATO CHIPS. THEY WILL GREASE YOUR ASS. text RANT: Bathroom Time = Private Time! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182450622.html Dear Family, First off, let me say that I love you dearly. If I possibly could, I would spend every moment for the rest of my life with you. As we live in the Los Angeles area, it is necessary that I work full-time outside the home. Between shuttling Son to school and other activities, working in a busy office environment, and handling most of the household needs, I figure I get about 20 or so minutes a day of time to myself, with no one else present (10 of those minutes is the time it takes me to get to work after dropping off Son at school plus the time it takes for me to leave work and pick up Son). The other ten or so minutes of time I have to myself, I spend in the bathroom. Husband, I know we are very close, we don't hide anything from each other, and we are comfortable being naked around each other. Hell, I LOVE being naked with you. You fart around me, I fart around you, we have nothing to hide. However, when I am in the bathroom, I want to be left alone. I don't want you peeking in the bathroom that is adjacent to the living room when I am in it. I don't want you throwing the door wide open when I am in there. I don't want you looking at me when I am sitting on the pot, doing my business. I don't want you to watch me wipe. I especially don't want a hug or to kiss you and I REALLY don't wish to be fondled or touched in any way while I am taking a crap. I know you don't have any sense of personal boundaries when it comes to your wife, but I really don't feel my sexiest when I am pushing waste out of my asshole into the toilet. It's worse when I have gastrointestinal distress, because you will come in and laugh at the noises my bowels are making or critique the odor I have produced. Please, I beg you, leave me alone and when I come out I will be your perfect wife again. Son, I can't believe you're ten years old already. It seemed like just yesterday you were crying when you didn't get your way. Oh wait, that *was* yesterday. I mean, it seemed like just yesterday that you were in diapers and I was teaching you how to use the big boy toilet. I let you in the bathroom with me while I was doing my business because I wanted you to see that I was okay using the potty, I wasn't going to fall in or be eaten by some potty monster. I explained that boys have a weewee and girls don't. We went through that a very long time ago. You've since learned to aim (sorta) and wipe yourself (mostly) without me. So, honey, when I'm in the bathroom, please let me be. You want to ask permission for something? Go ask your dad. You need my help with your homework? Ask dad! He can't help you because it's English, science, math or anything other than history? Then go on to the next assignment and I'll help you when I'm done. You're hungry? Well then, I'll be sure to fix you some of the food I've got stashed next to the toilet paper and the crossword puzzle book we keep on the back of the tank. Please, I beg you, leave me alone and when I come out I'll make dinner and help you with your homework. Thank you, family, for giving me ten people-free minutes to go to the bathroom. When I'm in there, I'm usually trying to figure out what I'm going to make for dinner, what things we need from the store, when and where is Son's next baseball game, about what tragedy is going on at work, whether or not that blouse I want to wear tomorrow is clean/ironed, etc. So please, give me my space, and I'll give you yours.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Home <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-15T18:04:26-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182450622.html RANT: Bathroom Time = Private Time! text hot guy with the faux hawk and straight 'tude at Crunch (YEAH YOU) - m4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/167799119.html You: hot guy with the faux hawk, camos, and gonch undies with perfect tan line, 4% bodyfat, american apparel tri-blend track shirt, L7silvr phone, ipod nano on stairclimber reading DNA Magazine and drinking a Macchiato with nonfat foam. Me: buzzed cut, ripped tatted guy with 501's with a flash of ice blue aussie bum undies and wife beater chillin on my nano with some Eminem and texting my bros on my sidekick and drinking Twinlab Extreme Ripped Force Drink. We checked each other out for a millisecond there but I was too shy to appoach you. I definately felt there was some chemistry heating up and would like to take it to the next level. Hit me up if you wanna grab some coffee or a drink. Or dinner. Or maybe we could go on an Atlantis Gay Cruise together and they can take photos of us for the brochure with you on my shoulders in matching awning striped speedos looking tan and in love. Or maybe we could snap up a couple of French Bulldogs and name them Louis and Vuitton and have our portrait done with us in matching khakis and barefoot to send as a Christmas Card. Or maybe we could do a shit load of Tina and K and E and GHB and feel really hot and go to White Party in outfits made by BCBG and dance shirtless in the glistening sweat of the other manboys around us. Or maybe something about you can help me fill this desperate lonliness and emptiness that has been devouring me as I frantically chase an image and life of someone I will never be. Maybe I won't have to use words like "hit me up" and "grab coffee" and "bro" to mask the self loathing homophobia I possess, praying they will make me come across as butch and straight and hell, anything but the sad, starving, lonely, judgemental, bitter, cynical, poser, wannabe that I really am. Seriously Dude. Hit me up, if you are interested.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Crunch Gym <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-04T02:25:27-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/167799119.html hot guy with the faux hawk and straight 'tude at Crunch (YEAH YOU) - m4m text Ten Tips to get more Barters!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/164198868.html You want more barter offers? Here are ten ways, based on the many usual posts found in this section, to get more barters: Pretend to be a Healer, a Psychic or have Healing Stones or some power. People love to think you’ve got some amazing power, like a super hero, and will trade just about anything for it. Of course if you really had such a power you wouldn’t be wasting your time trading it for a massage or a place to live in craigslist, you’d be on the cover of Time magazine, but most people are dumb. They’ll believe anything. Wait until the very last minute to try and get rent money. If you have to pay your rent but have no money, wait until the end of the month to ask for it. Even though you know at the beginning of the month you probably won’t have it, waiting until the very end will pull on people’s heart strings. No, they won’t think you’re irresponsible! They’ll think of you as a loveable lug in desperate need of rent money. You’ll probably end up with more money than you can handle. Claim you make a lot of money for your services. Pretend you make $200 a session for a massage or $150 an hour for webwork or $250 an hour for magical healing. People will be very impressed that you can demand so much for your services, they will be amazed that you’d be willing to trade those services for good to them. Of course, if you actually made those amounts, you wouldn’t have to make the trades, but people are dumb, they won’t realize it. The sky’s the limit as to what you can claim, so don’t be afraid. Think off all the stuff you can get when you claim you make $1000 an hour for lawn mowing! Get a nice apartment or house for practically nothing. There are tons of landlords and people in LA who have a spare house or apartment or even a master bedroom they’d be willing to trade for someone to fix their website, walk their dogs or walk around their house in a Speedo. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to get a great place for doing nothing. Remember: people are dumb. They don’t know that fixing a website isn’t worth a $1000 a month or walking dogs isn’t worth giving up their guest house. Think of all the stupid people in this town who work for a living and pay rent! The suckers! Post your barter as much as you can. Post it every day, three or four times a day if you can. This will not annoy anyone; in fact, it will show everyone how serious you are. People love to see someone with determination and the fact that you spend all your time reposting your barter will impress people, not irritate them. Massages, massages, massages. Massages are very, very hard to come by. Offering massages can get you practically anything. A new car, house, computer, camera…you name it! And if you want to get even more stuff, mention you normally make $175 an hour for massages, even if you don’t have a license! Always trade in your favor. Need a new computer? How about trading those unused flares in your trunk? Need a digital camera? What about that unused can of spam in the back of your cupboard? How about a new car? Offer your services of organizing papers! Remember, people are stupid. They will have no idea that you’re getting the better deal. It’s a craigslist barter staple: trade crap for something great! People want sex! If you’re a lonely 35 year old carpet layer or plumber and still can’t get a girlfriend, always remember there are plenty of hot women in LA who need a new carpet in their bedroom and are more than willing to trade sex for it. Or maybe the bathroom sink won’t stop dripping. Most women will gladly give themselves up for someone to come fix it. Why waste money on a legit plumber or carpet person when they can have some total stranger who posts in craigslist for sex? Nudity goes a long way! If you want something, just get naked! You can get anything. Need a $600 plane ticket? Just dance naked for three hours for someone! They won’t get bored! Who wouldn’t want to sit for three hours and watch a naked girl dance? Maybe you’re a 40 year old loser with a small winky-woo who likes to sunbathe in the backyard! Just offer that service! Maybe you just like to be naked period! You can get a house, a car…hey, the sky’s the limit when you like to be naked! Everyone wants to have a strange naked person in their house and will give up thousands of dollars worth of stuff for the privilege. A complete lack of spelling and grammar will help you get more offers. Write like a third grader! People love it when they have to read your barter numerous times to try and decipher what you’re looking for! It’s even better if you’re trading “writing services!” Remember, the stupider you appear, the more offers you’ll get!   <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 2006-05-24T09:25:30-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/164198868.html Ten Tips to get more Barters!! text My Ugly, Fat Neighbor Having Sex In Her Jacuzzi W/Her Gross BF http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/159346268.html Dear Disgusting Neighbor, I don't mind that you are fat. I don't mind that you are ugly. I don't mind that you have huge, purple patches of scaling psoriasis all over your body. I don't mind that you have fungus underneath your plastic, frosty pink fingernails (sadly, you've shown me more than once). And since I have a very high fence, I don't even mind if you have sex in your hot tub with your excessively hairy, chain-smoking, rotted front tooth, unwashed boyfriend any time of the day or night. But I DO mind being in the middle of a much-needed gardening project and being bombarded with 'OH GOD, OH GOD, YES, YES, OH GOD...' coming through the fence with such intensity and volume that my dogs stopped dead in their tracks, looked at the fence, looked at each other, looked at me and then fixated on the fence until you presumably 'came' (an hour later) and shut the hell up. Now Neighbor, you know I work 12 to 16 hours a day for the majority of my waking life- in other words, I AM SELDOM HOME (you've made it abundantly clear that you keep track of my 'comings and goings') giving you unlimited time and space to do your loud rutting where ever and when ever you desire. So why, for the love of everything Holy, have you chosen to share your, 'DEEPER, DEEPER...'grunt, grunt, grunt, slap, qweef, grunt, 'DEEPER...YES, YEEEEEEES...' with me, my poor way-past-the-point-of-needing-to-be-in-dirt tomato seedlings and my worried dogs in the middle of my ONE measly day off? I'm not a prude, I'm not a religious fanatic and nobody likes a good, sweaty boink more than me- but JesusMaryMotherOfGod- as you fake-screamed (I guess you forgot you told me you were non-orgasmic during intercourse) all I could see in my minds eye were the two of you sloshing and fucking in a luke-warm, bacteria saturated, hair, sloughed skin and old sperm soup and I swear to GOD it was everything I could do not to vomit. Ugh... In summation, Neighbor; I somehow got my tomatoes in the ground so please feel free to continue your loud, ugly, germy fucking. The only thing I ask, is just PLEASE do it when I'm not home, which may I remind you, is MOST of the time. PS. V-word; KINKS (can you believe it?)  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around In The Middle Of The Day <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-05-10T07:55:54-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/159346268.html My Ugly, Fat Neighbor Having Sex In Her Jacuzzi W/Her Gross BF text A Rant from a Cop http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/151590579.html Folks; I actually took this career path because it disturbed me to see so many victims and I was sure I was the one who would make a difference. During my career, I have employed compassion, empathy, negotiating skills, and decency in an effort to be someone who people would actually be left with the feeling that you mater after we leave. I could write a book, no, ten books about the things I've seen in your living rooms, bedrooms, streets and alleys. But I won't because I am not talented enough and most of it would be in poor taste. I see that this forum has a variety of genre. I see the intelligent people trying to provoke thought and engage other people’s minds. I see the sick, disturbed people who have found an audience for which they can share their disturbing thoughts. I see those in between who are just passing through musing at the fodder of all the rest. And of course we now know that Kim Jong lives in the Salt Lake Valley. So, perhaps this is to fall upon deaf ears. But what the hell, I can't send it to the paper because they sell entertainment and this isn't very entertaining. But at the risk of boring, pissing off, maligning, inadvertently offended, or maybe even causing someone to think a little, here goes. 1. Complaints from citizens People, for the love of everything holly, why do you call us for some of this absolute shit? People are always saying "don't you guys have anything better to do?" when we show up at their home for some moronic reason. Well guess hat? They are right! We have so much more to do. Why do you use us as swords to wield at your neighbor? Why do you use us as leverage mechanisms in you’re screwed up personal relationships? You say we are all fat, lazy, or no good. So why is it every time you want to threaten, scare or piss off an ex, a neighbor, a family member etc. the first statement that rolls off of your lips is "I'm gonna call the cops on you if,,,,,, Let me use yesterday as an example. Noon, its 59 degrees and I get a call from a guy whose neighbor’s dog has been left in a car. I get there, the windows are cracked, and the dog has only been in there 20 minutes. It’s 59 Degrees! It’s not summer and if it were the dead of winter I'd say the car is a $20,000 dog house. But it turns out this guy has a running dispute with his neighbor so guess who he calls to irritate the guy a little more? Me. When I go to leave, the asshole that called this in yells, "hey, aren't you gonna do anything?" I explain why I am not and he says "great, I'm writing a letter to the paper" Holly shit. Now I'm the bad guy because I didn't embarrass your target enough for you? Grow the hell up. 1:30 PM. Mom calls in a child abuse report on the ex. Turns out the only abuse was that he is a half hour late returning from his turn with the girl. The poor guy has two of us at his door and all his neighbors watching. But we have to respond and gladly respond to every call because of the fact that every now and then, it’s real. So we can't pick and choose and no, I don't have a crystal ball installed next to my MDC so I can see into the future. Another 90 minutes wasted on a revenge complaint. And yes, the ex got what she wanted. All the neighbors are now murmuring that this guy might be a psycho because after all, there were police officers in his home. Now his neighbors have a hard on for him and they are going to start calling us everything a bike gets stolen or a potted plant comes up missing. 3:15 PM. Car just stolen from the parking lot of a grocery store. The RP left the car running for just a minute while she went inside. Dispatch gives us a description of the car. The first thing we do is spread out into a grid of sorts hitting the main routes people would use to leave the area and we actually look for the victim’s car. Believe it or not, a great many times we actually locate the car and return it to the victim. But after 30 minutes, if we haven't found it, it's either in someone's garage in the hood, or it's out of the area. So the next thing I do is respond to where the woman is to take a report. Guess what? I get out of my car and this irate woman comes rolling over and yells at me right there in front of the super market "Where the hell have you guys been!!" She goes on a tirade about how she'll never get her car back now because we didn't respond fast enough and we could give a shit about here because she's just another dumb ass taxpayer. So I try in my most composed voice to explain "maam, when your car is stolen, the one place you won't find us is the place we are sure the car is NOT" Now I'm being a smart ass and she wants my supervisors name. People, most of you are decent, hard working, family loving, flag waving contributors to your society. And it’s because of this that I approach everyone with dignity and respect. But to that loud minority that tries to use us to get even with the neighbor down the street, or the ex, or the boss. You are the ones that are doing everyone a huge disservice. You are the ones that take us away from the people we should be watching. You are the pathetic, bored, angry, insecure misfits of society. So the next time one of you is sitting at your barstool lamenting about how "the cops are never there when you need them" there's a reason. To the rest of you, I'm truly sorry if it takes us a little longer than it should to get there. I know who the gang bangers are. I know most of the tweekers. I know where to go and look for your property when you've been ripped off. I know where to go and look for the guy that that just jacked your wife’s purse because as soon as I heard the physical description I recognized him and a repeat offender trying to get together some cash for his habit. But I cannot tend to these real emergencies if you are going to call us because you think someone stole your paper or the neighbor is watering his lawn on an even rather than an odd day or because the kids down the street are on the damn skateboards again. Hell, we were kids once. Leave the kids to be kids. Oh, and to the guy who called us during the busiest time of night to complain that your neighbor across the street was parked too close to the corner, real funny. He's a cop and you don't like cops so you try and use other cops to harass him? Get a life. Live like decent people and yes, absolutely call us when you see something real happening. I'll do everything in within my ability to help you. Disclaimer. I know there are asshole cops just like there are assholes in any and every profession. I know some of the guys where like me, idealists who wanted to make a difference but now suffer from a thing we call “compassion fatigue” Most of us really do give a damn about you and when you are in trouble, we haul ass to get there before it’s too late. Even then someone will always call in to complain that I was driving to fast and ‘must have been late for dinner” But I’ll tell you what, when we get a 911 call at 2:00 AM and all the call taker can hear on the other end is a woman screaming, it still gives us chills and yes, we’re gonna drive like hell to get there as quick as possible because whoever is doing whatever to her needs to be stopped and we’re the only ones that are going in. So cut us a break. It could be your wife, or mom, or girlfriend or daughter   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around your neighborhood <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-04-16T07:20:33-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/151590579.html A Rant from a Cop text Drinks with Dino http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/144939980.html "I’m moving to Canada." Since the 2004 Presidential election, this phrase rings out in most political discussions. In fact, Canada does welcome Americans. They’ll welcome you with open arms if have a post-graduate degree, own your own business, or already have a job lined up with one of the big accounting firms in Toronto, eh? These next four years of military spending, education reforms that emphasize standardized test scores over actual learning, and the invasions of a pair of countries I can barely find on a map overwhelm me. I, however, won’t contemplate moving to the Great White North. It’s too damn cold there, and their money has ducks on it. I have a better plan. I’m moving to another era. Look in a box of old postcards. This is easy for me, since I live in Palm Springs, where the detritus of yesteryear is catalogued and sold. Retro is very popular where Sinatra’s hangouts are treated like the Stations of the Cross. No question about it, back in the 50’s and early 60’s, this place was the bomb! Swimmin’ pools. Movie stars. Dean Martin knocks a golf ball through your window: he comes over to apologize, and ends up staying for dinner. What a time we had that night! I’ll never forget his story about playing blackjack in the steam room of the Sands Hotel. Oh, did we laugh. Let’s look at some other towns. How about New York City in the 1930’s? Sure, there was rampant unemployment, but who wouldn’t want to be there for the construction of the Chrysler Building? Especially if you knew a brand-new Gershwin musical was opening next week? Take me there! Let’s try Los Angeles during the Second World War. All the women all have great jobs building battleships. The music coming over the radio is so good, and it helps you forget that Johnny is off fighting in the Philippines. And the news is heartening! With the help of our staunch Russian allies, Hitler is on the run. Honolulu in the 70’s. Miami in the 80’s. San Diego in the 60’s. San Francisco in either 90’s – the 1890’s has loose women hanging out in saloons with feathers in their hair. The 1990’s were much the same, only with men. I’ve decided to move to Palm Springs in the late 50’s. I’m going to go to the library to print out four years of newspapers off the microfilm spools. (Sure, it’s going to be expensive, but it’s nothing compared to the price of a condo in Vancouver.) I’m thinking of starting in 1957 and going to 1961. Each morning, I will smoke my pipe and read one full day’s paper, sitting out on the verandah in my slippers. Oh yeah, I gotta go buy a pipe. And slippers. And a verandah. When I get home, I’ll play nothing but Ella Fitzgerald and Elvis records, and cook dishes like tuna croquettes and beef roasts. Big beef roasts. I have a recipe for – get this – cherry Jello made with Coca-Cola and pieces of Twinkies floating in it. I will reprogram my TV to just two channels, Turner Classic Movies and American Movie Classics. The radio will be locked on our local station KWXY, which I used to refer to as "the old people’s station" but now I’ll welcome for its nonstop Nelson Riddle with the occasional adventurous foray into Jo Stafford. Sure, the plan isn’t perfect. I can’t quit my job as a criminal lawyer, so I will still deal with my drunk drivers, methamphetamine addicts, men who beat their spouses, and meth-addicted drunk-driving wife-beaters. A real 1950’s man could only dream of a car like mine, my color television the size of an oven, or that amazing telephone I carry in my shirt pocket. Mr. Nineteen Fifty-Seven would have a heart attack if I took him to Costco. But it evens out – I covet his satisfaction about America’s place in the world and his belief that the future holds nothing but good. He knows we beat the Jerries outta Europe and the Japs from the Pacific. Everyone has a job, and we’re getting television-phones any day now – I know because they showed it at the 1956 World’s Fair! Now if I could just stop referring to people as "Jerries" and "Japs" – that can’t be nice. I also can’t wait for my car that converts into a boat. Saw that one in Popular Mechanics. So join me, will you? Imagine if all our neighbors moved to the 50’s together. We could probably get a group discount on our cable service – remember? Just two channels. And we could hire a neighborhood kid to ride a shiny red bike every morning, delivering the antique newspaper with a satisfying thump against the front door. Jimmy. The kid’s name has to be Jimmy.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around Fabulous Palm Springs <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-24T14:41:47-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/144939980.html Drinks with Dino text it's over, I'm leaving you... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/143748082.html Dear Los Angeles, As you know, well I've been unhappy with you for quite some time. The truth of the matter is you don't love me and I never loved you. In fairness, I tried. Really I did and I found some good things in you. I mean, I've made some really wonderful friends through you. So lovely in fact just recently it occurred to me that I may be one of the luckiest people in the world. And jeez, I can't say enough about you showing me the Museum of Jurassic Technology - I suspect the most amazing place you have to offer. I must also say, living downtown has been amazing, the parks are nice, and the mountains are gorgeous. I've had some fine sushi and mexican food while I've been here as well. However, the down side is insurmountable. You are a bit on the shallow side, ridiculously scene driven, and why must you insist on driving everywhere??? It's maddening! I mean, there have been so many things that were wrong that truth be told, that this relationship is not salvageable. You really are the most self centered city I've ever been with as well as the most shallow, flaky, and well...plastic. Your obsessions with Scientology and Marilyn Monroe really creeped me out too, you should dial that down a notch. That fauxhemian fashion sense of yours always grated under my skin a bit as well, it's now available at Target so why don't you just give it up already? In my last relationship with New York, I mean you could see the warts with no effort made to even hide them but at least you know what you got, at least it was real. My friends warned me about you before I decided to give 'us' a shot, you have quite a reputation you know. I should have listened. I guess I must have thought it sounded like too much a cliche to really be true or maybe I thought I could change you in my own meager way. I've been proved wrong. However, let's not dwell on the negatives, the truth is I'm leaving you to go back to New York. Yes, New York. Yes yes, I know you hate New York - New York hates you too. Lucky for the both of you that you're 3000 miles apart. You see, I've always loved New York, even when I was with you. Your jealousy of New York really didn't help matters, just be who you are, accept yourself for who you are. Stop trying to be something you're not and can never be. The truth is, New York is my true love. Granted it's not perfect, but scrape away the dirt and curtness and you find something real and wonderful and oddly free. New York thinks it's ok for me not to go out until 11pm, and New York wont make me drive after a few cocktails. In fact, New York wont make me drive anywhere. I know it seems silly but New York has so much more to offer than you do. I'm sorry but it's true. New York has good taste in art, and every band likes playing New York, and jesus christ, New York has much better taste in fashion. New York is also happy to feed me at 4 in the morning, it was like it took an act of congress for you to muster up a decent meal for me at that hour. On top of that, New York accepts me the way I am. I don't need a fancy car or fake tits to be with New York. And not to stick the knife any deeper in, but the sex was better as well. New York can be a bit dirty I suppose and there's nothing wrong with that. And listen, it's not like we'll never see each other again. Hopefully we can still be friends. I'm sure after we've spent quite some time apart I might be willing to see you again but don't get any wild ideas like it may be permanent, at most maybe we have a weekend trip. So, Los Angeles, I'm leaving you and moving out at the end of May. It's over. You can't change my mind and I'm not moving back. I'm sorry. I'm sure you wont shed a tear anyway. Best of luck to you, P  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around los angeles <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-20T20:08:40-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/143748082.html it's over, I'm leaving you... text You Rule, Vietnamese Waxer Lady http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/142248974.html My regular waxer was not available and I just could not bear the wild, untamed amazon bush jungle that my, well, bush had become for another day. So I came to you on my lunch hour, Anonymous Vietnamese Waxer Lady who works at the cheapie nail place. We were mere strangers before this afternoon, but after knowing you only an hour, I feel like I must point out the reasons why you rule. When it was necessary to get on all fours to do the “taint” part of the wax, you applied the wax so delicately to my bunghole, then asked, in what I assumed were two of the only five English words you know, “Too hot?” I responded yes, it was too hot. And without hesitation, you blew on it to cool the hot wax. YOU BLEW ON MY BUNGHOLE, Vietnamese Waxer Lady. Do you know how special that is? Nobody blows on the bung. Nobody. Since you were a bit clumsy with the wax, there were many bits leftover that did not get taken up onto the “Strip of Doom” as I like to call it. So without any sort of trepidation whatsoever, you happily took a cotton ball and dug the wax out of my vaginal canal yourself. How did you manage to do that without making me feel the least bit uncomfortable, Vietnamese Waxer Lady? Were you a gynecologist back in Vietnam and they wouldn’t let you practice medicine in the United States when you immigrated here, and so now you wax pubes for a living? I know that kind of thing happens all the time, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to know this occupation has not been your first foray into coochdom. And I know this is totally inappropriate, but I even started to feel, dare I say, a tiny bit frisky from the action. You just seemed to know my vagina so very well. Almost like you were two old friends, and I was this new acquaintance showing up to lunch with you and my vagina, but then was all like “Oh. I see you two have already met.” Since you don’t speak much English, you had to motion to me where to place my legs in the air to best reach the “corner” as you called it. Most people would have been uncomfortable with their legs in the air and then having their butt cheeks spread further apart, mere centimeters from the face of a stranger. But you smiled at me and with a subtle expression, indicated that you, too, felt my pain. You should give lessons to medical students, Vietnamese Waxer Lady, on how to have good bedside manner. Or I guess in your case, ass-side manner. I thanked you with a good tip, but I want to thank you here, publicly, for your selfless action, and for doing your part on behalf of all humanity to keep my pubes under control. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-15T15:44:12-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/142248974.html You Rule, Vietnamese Waxer Lady text 8 things I hate about valentine's http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/134053527.html 8) Lame message hearts. The only thing worse than feigning gratitude when you hand me three hearts with “Be Mine”, “You Stud”, “So Hot” is falsely complementing you on your third grade creativity. After that, I have the pleasure of choking down these delightful little confections that taste like a combination of elementary school chalk and baseball card chewing gum. 7) Overpriced Dinners. Thank you for bumping up your prices by $25 for the pleasure of eating your attempt at realizing your culinary dreams. Mmmmm… love that odd lemon/foot flavored cream sauce you doused on the new potatoes. Did you use dill on this flank steak you are passing off as veal? That makes you a real chef. This should go well with that moldy tasting boxed cabernet you’re serving at the reasonable price of $9 a glass. P.S. nobody likes FLAN!! 6) valentine Cards. Thanks sweety, I’m glad it took you 10 minutes to decide between the Whinny the Pooh card that said “You’re my Honey” and the Tiger Card that said “Your Terrifficccc!”. I want to poop on your head wasting 3 dollars. 5) DeBeers commercials. Oh DeBeers, You most bastards of the Belgium families. Congratulations on raping the people of South Africa, exporting all the wealth to Europe, and artificially inflating the price of diamonds by restricting the supply to the market. But why stop there you ask? You didn’t. You successfully launched a marketing campaign that has ever women in America believing that a not so rare carbon-carbon stone is the incarnation of love itself. Thanks for securing my dates disappointment when her gifts are wilted roses, dusty chocolates, and… an overpriced dinner. Diamonds are Forever?? Fuck You is Forever too you waffle-slinging assholes!! 4) That damn guy who goes overboard. Guess what dude, those years of being a neglectful father and husband or the affair you had with your coworker won’t be forgiven simply because you bought this girl a tennis bracelet, sent 100 roses to her work, and hired a wandering serenade for the night. The only thing your accomplishing is making the rest of us look bad. BTW- she’s sleeping with your best friend. 3) Valentine’s Night Sex. I just spent 4 hours pretending to enjoy the evening, I am half cocked on bad wine, and my stomach is turning because of that awful dinner and shitty candies. I am in no mood for athletics. It doesn’t help that my penis is on DEFCON 5 and about to blow any minute because you stopped having sex with me two weeks ago to make this night “special”. The most you can hope for is two minutes of awkward half pumps and that I don’t fart on you in my sleep as I try to digest all that nastiness. 2) Singles Parties. Hmm… two choices of girls here. The really drunk chick who wants to tell me about her shitty ex, or her fat friend who couldn’t get a date for the life of her. Hey Betty, here’s a tip, that bleach job you did for the hair on your upper lip glows underneath the black light. No I do not want to do a body shot off of you, you yeti. 1) Its my birthday god damn it. I either have to spend it with some needy girl who wants me to treat her like a princess, or all my bitter friends who don’t have a date for valentines day. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-02-15T03:48:29-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/134053527.html 8 things I hate about valentine's text Nigerian Scammer Payback http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/119838685.html I posted this story on Craigslist months ago and everyone thought it was brilliant! I’m posting it again for your entertainment. I love fucking with Nigerian scammers sending them on a wild goose chase. I have yet to get one sucker to take a picture of their self and send it to me. Something tells me that will be very simple. I posted a room available for rent on Craigslist for $750/month. Starring: Me = Justin Credible and Ms. Bea Haven Nigerian Scammer = “Love Sandra” love Sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hello, how are you doing today hope all is well with you, now i want to let you know that i have tell my company that i have saw a room but is $750dollars and them said that they will issue you a check of $4950 dollars, so as soon as you receive the check and cash it you will take your own money there which is $750 dollars and send the balanec to me, so that i will use it to pay for my ticket, i need it urgent . Becasue the wedding will be comeing up soon. This is all i needed from you so that my company will send the check for you immediatley. Your full name Your cantcat address Your country code and name. Your telephone number. Please i will like you to send this now so that i will forward it to my company okay. Looking forward to hear from you now. Thanks and god bless you. Love Sandra Justin Credible wrote: Yes, thank you for your interest Ms. Love Sandra, please send a security deposit and one month’s rent ($750 + $750 = $1500) to: Justin Credible 6969 Melrose Place Los Angeles, CA 90046 Thank you, Justin love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hello justin, How are you doing today hope all is well with you? now i want to let you know that my company have send the check $4950 to you okay and all i want you to be doing is this you will be checking your (mail box)evry day because the check will be deleive trough (US MAIL) okay so you have to be checking you mail box evry day okay. looking forward to hear from you soon. thanks and god bless you. love sandra Two weeks later… Justin Credible wrote: Hello Love Sandra, I wanted to inform you that I have received the check for $4950 made payable to me Justin Credible from qchex.com. This doesn’t look legit but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt anyway. Please tell me what you want me to do with the left over amount. Thanks, Justin love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: hello justin, Please i will like you to wire the money to my traevel agent okay so he can arrange my flight tickets to the us.The weding I need to attend is almost here. Pls use Moneygram. Wire to: MARTINE OKORE 21UNITY ROAD OMOLE LAGOS NIGERIA 23401 Please send imiditaly by moneygram. Thank you, Love Sandra Justin Credible wrote: Hi Love Sandra, I will have my assistant wire you the money immediately like you have requested. Hope all is well. See you soon! -Justin My assistant, Ms. Bea Haven wrote: Dear Ms. Love Sandra, Hello, my name is Ms. Bea Haven, I am Mr. Justin Credible’s assistant and I have wired the funds to you given the information from my boss: Wire to: MARTINE OKORE 21UNITY ROAD OMOLE LAGOS NIGERIA 23401 Money Gram Reference #: 32864852 (my elementary school id number, I’ve always memorized it) SENDER'S NAME: Ms. Bea Haven AMOUNT SENT: $3450 I hope I did this right because I am a new hire and just got hired at my boss's production company. Please let me know if I did this right. I hope so. Thank you Ms. Love Sandra, I hope you will enjoy your visit to the United States. Sincerely, Ms. Bea Haven Assistant to Producer Bite-Me-Arse Entertainment Hollywood, California love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hello Bea, See i want to let you know that the agent went to Moneygram to pick up the money and they said that the refference number is not good and i want to let your boos to know about it but i first want to let you now, Now do you know what i will like you to do scan the receipt for the payment that the money gram give you, now i will like you to do that now befor i contact your boos okay, am waiting for the receipt of the payment okay. Please i will like you to recomfirm the information you give the agent okay. MARTINE OKORE 21UNITY ROAD OMOLE LAGOS NIGERIA 23401 A couple of days go by and I forget about our faux transaction and haven’t replied back to her. So Ms. Love Sandra is getting irritated (her reply to me was in all bold print). love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Looking what is going there now......And why you did not send me mail to correct the refference number, so that the agent will go there and pick up the money for my ticket.......because the wedding is coming up soon, so i will like you to do that now okay. Looking forward to hear from you now. ThanksLove Sandra Ms. Bea Haven wrote: Dear Ms. Love Sandra: I sincerely apologize for the mistake, please get back to me if this does not work. I am a new hire and have never wired money before. My boss was very mad at me for making a mistake and inconveniencing you. I got in big trouble for this. Please, I am very sorry!! Please get back to me as soon as possible and let me know if everything is okay! Please do not tell my boss and let me know. I will get in more trouble if anything wrong happens again. Go to Moneygram to pick up the money. Reference: 32864852 -Ms. Bea Haven Assistant to Producer Bite-Me-Arse Entertainment Hollywood, California love Sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hello Bea, i know its not your fault but all the same, am pleading to you that you can send the right refference number, the same thing happened just as it was in the first time you send the first one, i should have reported all what thats is going on to your boss but since you said i should 'nt let him know, the refference number is invalid, please and please this the last chance my flight manager is giving me, he said that he would have my name canceled if i do nt pay for the ticket bill, and precise thats what have been keeping me staying till date here, i should would have been back to the state since on monday, just as i told your boss in the first time,but since it happened that way i have to patient, but this time i can't wait any more, thats why i pleading to you. right now at the moment to go straight to money gram and resend it with the right refference number so that i can be able to meet up with your boss in the states, i know he would be worried about my not been back yet to the states, please now Ibee. Warning: The email above sounds like she is very caring and sincere and will avoid getting me in trouble at all cost, but yet…she sends my boss (hey, that’s me!) an email complaining that Ms. Bea Haven (hey that’s me again!) has been giving her the run around. love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hi Bea, how are you doing?,the people at money gram said the reference number is invalid,so please just go through the receipt again and resend the reference number so the funds can be picked up today,thanks,and reply immediately. Ms. Bea Haven wrote: How could this be? I made sure I did everything right. Please go back there and make sure the Moneygram agent is not confused. I can assure you that I wired the money to you with the info you gave me. Again the reference # is: 32864852: -Bea love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hello Bea The moneygram agent has assured me that the reifference number you gave me is incorrect. I am disappointed with you as the moneygram agent has threaten to arrist me already. Pls hurry and send corrct reiference number immidiatly. Looking forwarad to hear from you now. Thanks and god bless you. Love Sandra. Ms. Bea Haven wrote: Oh my, I’m so sorry Ms. Love Sandra, I just realized I wired the money to you via Western Union. My bad, forgive me! Like I said, I have never done this before. Please don’t tell my boss about this! Here is the correct reference number: 32864851 Please forgive me, Ms. Bea Haven love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hello Haven, The Money Transfer Control Number must be exactly 10 characters in length. So the agent said that the control number is not complete... please i will like you to look after it now and send the complete number to the agent okay.....because i want he to get the ticket read tomorrow okay so he is waiting for the complete control number. Looking forward to hear from you now. Thanks and god bless you. Love Sandra Ms. Bea Haven wrote: Geez, what is wrong with me today? Ofcourse, Western Union MTCN needs to be ten characters in length. How could I not know that. Here goes: 3228664851 -Bea Man, I’m starting to run out of faux reference numbers…. love Sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: Hi Bea, I went to western union.the same thing happened like the first time. I need to speak to your booss. i have wasted a lot of time alredy. I will contact your booss imiditaly. Ms. Bea Haven wrote: Oh no, Please don’t! Anything but that!! I eventually emailed our Nigerian Scammer and told her what a fucking piece of shit he/she is for scamming people of their hard earned money. I told him/her they were going to burn in hell for this and that the next time they do this again, they were going to die in a severe car accident. Needless to say, I never heard from our beloved “Love Sandra” again. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-21T19:33:51-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/119838685.html Nigerian Scammer Payback text The System is Down http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/118692031.html So I work for an internet company and our server for our site is down. It’s been down for about four hours now, so I’m pretty damn bored. I post lists like this every once in awhile, mostly when I’m bored. Looks like it’s time for another one… 10 Reasons Why You Should Totally Date The Crap Out Of Me: 1. I really need someone to see King Kong with. See, I started this debate with my dinosaur-loving roommate about those posters you see all around LA that capture the moments before the battle between Kong and what looks like a T-Rex. Clearly, King Kong could take the T-Rex. Somehow this turned into the biggest battle known to man, and a rather sore subject around my house. Now, all the people who were originally going to see King Kong with me, are boycotting the movie in support of Team Dinosaur. 2. I work at a porn site, and I wouldn’t say I am bitter, or jaded… but let me put it this way: I can eat a full meal while clicking through hardcore porn sites. I don’t really know if this is an attractive facet of my being, but it’s kinda interesting at least. I would much rather spend my time making Microsoft Paint pictures of unlikely situations, like: <img src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a300/hallowedground/teddy.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"> 3. I listen to a lot of great music. I’ll be the first to admit, I am having a lot of trouble with a lot of the newer rock out there, the hardcore and metal-core and whatnot. I like some of it, and will tolerate all of it. My current roommates are into a lot of it, and one of them is even in a hardcore band, so I’m pretty used to all the scary Cookie-Monster vocals and moshing. I, on the other hand, am more into alternative music. I love nothing more than Sunday evenings spent with 2 hours of VHI Classic Alternative. Here is the obligatory list of bands I’ve been listening to lately, (there’s always more..): Against Me!, Husker Du, Thursday, Franz Ferdinand, Some Girls, Refused and The (International) Noise Conspiracy, Prince, Belle and Sebastian, Horse the Band, Depeche Mode, Coheed and Cambria, The Damned, New Order, Plain Wrap, Choking Victim/Leftover Crack, AFI, Gorillaz, She Wants Revenge, Morningwood, The Shins, and Midnight Movies. 4. I listen to a lot of horrible music. I have such an affinity for cheesy pop music it’s almost sickening. I have slept in the rain (twice!) for *NSYNC, and I saw 98 Degrees back before Nick Lachey married Jessica Simpson. There’s nothing I love more than a mix tape filled with Ciara and New Kids on the Block. I’m not ashamed, and I would quit my job right now if it stood in the way of me being at an *NSYNC reunion concert. 5. I love horror movies. Someday, when I’m really rich, I’ll have a house that looks like people have been murdered there. I haven’t seen Hostel yet, but from the looks of the trailer, it could be the most perfect horror movie that’s been out in awhile. I really like zombie movies (George A. Romero, of course!) and anything ridiculously violent and horrible. Oh, and scary. 6. I’m pretty damn smart. I like to read. Really, I don’t know of a way to express this through an online posting. I’m afraid that once I start going off about my superb intellect, I’ll end up spelling the entire sentence wrong and putting my foot in my mouth. 7. I have the best stories. I have had every type of job you could imagine. I have been on tour with a band. I take public transportation. I obsess over music and come up with impractical theories about almost everything. I’m entertaining at the very least. 8. I, personally, think I’m pretty damn cute. I probably won’t ever ask you any of those questions that girls ask, you know, those ones where there are no right answers… just the difference between a slap in the face or a night spent on the couch. I’m self aware enough to know where my faults lie, and I’m ok with that. 9. Do you have female friends? Great, cause I have a ton of guy friends I wouldn’t trade in for the world. Do you want to go hang out with your friends, separate from me? Awesome, cause I’m really into hanging out with my friends, and having fun. I love it when other people come along, the more the merrier, but I’m not all crazy about who you’re hanging out with and where to the point where you have to be with me all the time. 10. Look at that paint picture I made of Teddy Ruxpin. Seriously, I’m awesome. <img src=118692031.jpg> <img src=118692031.2.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-16T13:25:28-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/118692031.html The System is Down text Orgasm Notice - 3 Days to Pay or Quit http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/117466579.html Dear Sir, You have been renting my vagina for the past six weeks. In that six weeks you have had liberal access to myself and my fine ass bobbing on your dick, and you have taken advantage of this opportunity on a damn near daily basis. That is great. I love sex and I love it more when it is a daily experience. However, over the course of these past six weeks, I have recieved only one "payment" in exchange for your many lovely gifts of pearl necklaces and the like. This arrangement is simply not an acceptable one for my vagina and myself. This notice serves you with a three day period to pay up or get the fuck on. I want an orgasm. Look at this from my perspective, dear sir. I am a lovely little number. I do not smother. I come over late at night to fuck your brains out. I like the same movies as you. We laugh together, have a great time and in general have great sex. The lack of the finale on an occasional basis is understandable. The consistent nonexistance of it, however, will not do. You would not waste your time fucking me for six weeks if every time, save one lovely instance, you got really really really close, and then had to "hold it over" while I snored away happily after experiencing my earthshattering juicer, would you? No. I don't think you would. You would move on and take shelter in another, more "rewarding" location. I have been fair. I do not demand. I am a giving and tolerable lover. You can do whatever you want to me sexually, you know this from experience. I am not taking applications from other prospective tenants and I give you free access, 24/7. However, my tolerance wanes. The rules of tenancy are about to change. Here are a few final tidbits of knowledge. We have gone over them before. Perhaps you forgot. Again. Have a read. Have a re-read. But please, I implore you to take this seriously. This is a final notice. There are no exceptions. 1. I do not "cum" from strictly intercourse. I never have. I don't rule out the future possibility, but please stop trying to be the "stud" whose dick makes me "cum so hard" every time. It doesn't happen. Please take a few minutes prior to your personal enjoyment to go downtown and see the sights. I provide a roadmap. I am vocal and have no qualms with telling you to "keep doing that, don't stop." You know this. From the ONE time you did it. Remember, you are not "jerking off." This is not "aided masturbation." I am not just "along for the ride." This is SEX, buddy. And women want to cum too. If I didn't, I wouldn't bother with fucking you in the first place. Sure, I like to see you happy and love watching you cum. Its an enjoyable experience to sexually satisfy your partner. Try it. 2. I rarely get on top. When I do - DO NOT FLIP ME OVER. This is just a rule. Don't do it. Lay back and enjoy the ride. 3. Don't be such a gun slinger with the lube. If you touch my pussy and its not dripping wet, lube is not the blanket answer to this problem. And no, I don't care if it does smell/taste like strawberries. I might care if that made you venture down south, but that has not been a tried and true outcome. Your hands, fingers, and mouth are welcome, invited even. I assure you, it is not a desert down there. You need to AROUSE your lover. Not DOUSE your lover. Please, dear sir, do not take this as a rejection. Do not be discouraged. I have complete and utter faith in your ability to satisfy me sexually. Besides that, I really enjoy having you around in all other areas. You are funny. You are smart. You are sexy and educated. You DO NOT, however, give me an orgasm anywhere near as often as you should. You are in your thirties. You are not getting any younger. You should learn this now - women want a together, financially secure and stable man. Yes. That isn't a lie. However, women prefer solitude and the satisfaction of MASTURBATION to a constant sexual let down. I know you like fucking me. Please help me to like fucking you. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-11T15:53:11-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/117466579.html Orgasm Notice - 3 Days to Pay or Quit text SWF with DID Wants Caring Kinky Man - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/117188683.html If you're looking for a "normal" woman, please do us both a favor and move on. I'm single by choice, white, in good shape (personal trainer), and attractive enough where I have no trouble getting dates. However, due to some severe childhood trauma, I also suffer from dissociative identity disorder or DID, often mistakenly called Multiple Personality Disorder. For the past few years, I've fought with medication and several therapists and suffered through relationships with men and sometimes women who just didn't understand the needs of my alters - the other personalities that manifest themselves from time to time. Perhaps I'll never have a long term relationship ubt I have come to realize in the past few years that there are many kinky people in the world and the internet has given me a safe and sane forum to meet them. So, with a hopeful heart, I'm wondering if someone is out there who can handle all of me. I'm looking for someone who would be comfortable with all of my alters. Understand that I have no control about which alter appears and when, so you have to be the kind of person who goes with the flow. Audrey - this is "me". I'm a normal woman, I suppose. I like snuggling and enjoy sex. Trixie - a nineteen old runaway. She is a real partier, very bisexual and into sleeping with strangers. She has a temper. Vance - a stern 45 year old ex cop. This male alter is very dominant and enjoys forcing his partners into anal adventures. Maggie - A born again Christian, age 35. She is secretly a lesbian and this comes out by the women she brings home, ostensively for her man but actually for herself. She also makea a lot of cookies and follows the "Fly Lady" routine from the internet. Sara - 25 year old seemingly frigid virgin. Requies a lot of patience as she cries a lot, but will warm up to the right person. Anyway, that's me right now. I can't promise what will happen in the future, but who can? Can someone out there handle it? I am feeling pretty lonely and would if I meet the right person and we all hit it off, I'd like to get going right away. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-10T09:05:18-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/117188683.html SWF with DID Wants Caring Kinky Man - w4m text That rooster died! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/115631855.html Dear fuckface who dropped the rooster off in the Peck Water Conservation Park, The rooster is dead. This is your fault. I'm sure you "thought" it was a good idea to get rid of your unwanted rooster (or your ghetto neighbor's annoying rooster) by dropping him off to spend the rest of his days in freedom amongst the wildlife at the park but let's analyze this ... A) He was a rooster. B) Roosters eat grain/feed/rooster food. C) Roosters like to spend their time with hens. D) The Peck park is full of ducks, bunnies, some feral cats, fish, ground squirrels and birds. (Note - No hens, no roosters.) E) The ducks, bunnies, fish, feral cats, ground squirrels et al have adapted to (by evolutionary means or sheer fortitude) to life in the wild. F) Ducks, bunnies, fish, feral cats, ground squirrels et al do NOT eat feed/grain/rooster food. The best you could really hope for was that the citizens who bring bread to the ducks might spare a few crusts for the rooster. I give the rooster some credit - it tried to fit in with the ducks and attempted communication. But duck and rooster.... nope - NOT the same language. It went something like this: ROOSTER: Cock a doodle do. Cock a doodle.... doodle... do. DUCK: Quack. Quack Quack. It was impossible to begin with! This would be like me going to Mexico and saying: ME: Hello friends! I am hungry, alone and confused. Please help me. THEM: (pointing finger at me) ** Mire, mexicano del compañero, de que mujer de discurso está intentando conseguir nuestra atención. Me pregunto lo que ella está diciendo. Podemos fingir esperar a escuchar un rato más adelante pero nos dejamos ahora no hacer caso de ella. Ella manejará en sus la propia. ** (Then they walk away en masse towards the steaming tamale pot.) The rooster lasted in the park for several days until he decided, last night, to give up on trying. At approximately 6:45pm he commit suicide by stepping into oncoming traffic on Peck Road. Not only have you sacrificed the life of one rooster - you've probably traumatized a poor El Montian who was suddenly face to face (or bumper to beak) with the ill-fated rooster. So SHAME ON YOU for your initial bad taste in pets, or your evil neighbor pet stealing ways. And shame on the Park groundskeepers who probably have some sort of animal control on speed dial! The rooster wasn't exactly hiding! Signed, Rooster Mourner **** Alta Vista BabelFish says this means: "Look, fellow Mexicans, that speaking woman is trying to get our attention. I wonder what she is saying. We can pretend to listen for a while later but let's ignore her now. She'll manage on her own." Or actually it says it means, "Watch, Mexican of the companion, of which speech woman is trying to obtain our attention. I ask myself what she is saying. We can pretend to hope to listen more ahead awhile but we let ourselves now not pay attention to her. It will handle in his the own one."**** webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-03T20:35:14-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/115631855.html That rooster died! text I love my dog, but... eeew. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/115400264.html I love my dog, but there are times when she is so gross I don't know what to do. She licks the other dog's eyeballs, reams out ear canals, and begs for clipped toenails, human and otherwise. She sniffs out dead skin - as from a cuticle or sunburn peel - from across the room. She would fight for a morsel of vomit. And she delights in feces of all kinds. I didn't believe the early reports that she was a poop sucker. I'd never even heard the phrase before when the handyman told me about her. I thought he was angling for more money, somehow. But no sooner did he tell me than I myself found her in the backyard, hypnotically munching poo - with a smack-smack-smack sound, the kind you might make when you swirl a delicious food in your mouth and roll your eyes. She was in an elevated state of the yummies - and she was eating a dog turd. She's barely bigger than a turd herself. And very cute. Everyone loves her. I did my research and learned that it's a fairly common thing for a dog to do. It's a doggie idiosyncrasy, they say. (Needless to say we immediately banned doggie kisses in our household). But one day everything changed for me and her. She did something so gross that I have kept it a secret until today, almost three years later. I came back from a vacation with total intestinal mayhem. You know, the sort of condition where the digestive system rejects everything from every source, spewing it out of every orofice in every direction at the highest possible velocity. I started out with nausea, then puking, then projectile puking, alternating with more nausea and then, surprise projectile diarrhea. I would run to the bathroom with cramps, shoot a gallon of something horrid out of my butt, and have just enough time to get the toilet flushed before a big barf welled up and erupted. Or, worse, I would be vomiting and the pressure would cause a fecal urgency that could barely be met in time. At one such moment I stood up from a bout of barfing and found my panties chock full o' diarrhea. Sick, gloppy poop of the acrid variety that makes your eyes water when you smell it. I sprung into action, turning on the water in the shower. I pulled the trash can next to the tub to receive any emergency barf, and stripped off the offending panties. I showered, and then, feeling better, I filled the tub with hot water and settled in to a nice bath. I pulled the curtains closed and shut my eyes, trying to will myself into a relaxed, non-puke state. It was sort of working. I felt woozy, in a nice sort of float-away, forget about everything kinda state. I might have been dozing when a rhythmic shush-shush sound slowly worked its way into my consciousness. I came to, pulled the shower curtain aside, and saw my little doggie with her face in my soiled panties, slurping with an urgent delight, like a kid with a bowl of stolen cake batter. Just like that, only with diarrhea. I have never looked at her the same way again. I go through the motions, but it's always there waiting to bubble to the surface, the picture of her scarfing it up. She's as cute as a little stuffed animal, but I just can't surrender to her cuteness because I know what she is stuffed with. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-02T17:36:38-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/115400264.html I love my dog, but... eeew. text Signs you are not my new roommate http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/103955139.html I'm looking for someone to move into my apartment so my voicemail and email have been inundated with prospective roommates. As a therapeutic exercise, I have compiled the following list. Signs you are not my new roommate: 1) You have called me four times in 24 hours, each time with increasingly frantic anxiety. Contrary to your rambling theories, the reason I am not calling back is not that your message was "so cra-a-ackily" (Were you trying to replicate the crackle sound in some kind of onomatopoetic serenade?) or that my phone wasn't working or I lost your number. It's because I am scared of you. If I am frightened by your voice alone, that is a clear sign: You are not my new roommate. 2) You sign your e-mail "mmm." What is that about? Were you eating a delicious brownie while you typed? I am kind of skeeved out. Therefore: You are not my new roommate. 3) You respond to my statement of "Sorry, I'm allergic to cats" with: "My sweet calico will be coming with me. She sheds a lot, but she's cute!" Not only do you have a cat that is probably not cute at all (I have only ever met one cat I liked), but you are presumptuous and evidently read roommate ads the way I "read" the Wall Street Journal (aka distracted apathetic skimming.) You are not my new roommate. 4) Your accent is too strong for me to make out your phone number. This is nothing personal, but I literally can't return your call because I don't know which number(s) you meant when you said "argez glogbin." You are not my new roommate. 5) You preface your voicemail with: "I know you said you only wanted a female roommate, BUT..." What is hard about this? As tempted as I am by charming overtures like: "hey im a sweet guy from chicago im lookin to leave my building cuz the rent keeps going up maybe we can have fun together, i think we should meet and see how u like me"-- I will not be swayed. You are a boy. Thus... You are not my new roommate. 6) You are clearly female, but leave a voicemail that makes you sound intoxicated and/or romantically interested. "Um, I just, I liked what you had to say in your ad, and I just... want someone, like, really... cool to... be around, and spend time with... you know?" Your drunken, dulcet tones sound like a solicitation for something tawdry. As intriguing as the prospect may be to the male gender... You are not my new roommate. 7) You cite your "borderline obsessive" need for cleanliness in the home. This will not work. My friend Julie once asked to borrow some eyedrops out of my purse and this is what happened: (see below) No, she does not have magical levitation powers. She's holding the eyedrops up with a hair that was stuck to the bottle with gum. She is also dry heaving. Here's the thing: I was born a colossal slob and am only marginally rehabilitated. In conclusion, you will kill me in my sleep if we live together. You are not my new roommate. 8) You have a three-year-old. Listen, I can't even keep a mini cactus alive, let alone a toddler. I simply cannot have some sort of dependent human creature in my household. Do you want your kid's eyedrops to become encrusted with gum and hair? Didn't think so. You and Tommy are not my new roommates. 9) Your email says: "I want more information about you. So call me tonight after 9:30 pm or tomorrow after 3 pm." I am not taking time-stringent orders from complete strangers at this time. Please try again during my regular business hours. P.S. You are not my new roommate. 10) The 'from' line in your email says "Muffin" even though your name is Amanda and you have a "10-lb schnoodle". I don't know if that is a dog or a giant cookie, or, lord, some sort of bodily appendage, but regardless... You are not my new roommate. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-10-13T15:41:00-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/103955139.html Signs you are not my new roommate text I accidentally molested my cat... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/99621738.html So...I haven't had a boyfriend in 7 months. I was cuddling my cat today and we got to snugglin' and I started kissing his soft face and snuggling him harder and the kisses got longer and longer and he has such a great sense of intimacy and he was purring and purring and I was kissing his neck and his tummy and then all of a sudden he jumped up and looked at me like I was the biggest pervert on earth. We were both totally uncomfortable. I haven't seen him since. I need a man! Help me! Help my Cat! webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-23T22:51:19-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/99621738.html I accidentally molested my cat... text I hate you, white fish with the flowy fins http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/83380608.html To celebrate our domestic bliss, my boyfriend and I recently got a fish tank. The manager lady at the Petco on La Brea (very helpful, looks like Parker Posey in 20 years, she deserves a raise) advised us to stock the tank with goldfish for the first few weeks because they'd do something or another to the water to make it more amenable to tropical fish in the future. Not surprisingly, five of the eight goldfish died, as goldfish are wont to do. We waited in vain to sacrifice the remaining three to the porcelain god, but they defied us. Finally, we purchased a smaller tank and moved them there. They seem content. Then we cranked up the heater and bought tropical fishes: two orange thingies with wavy fins, a silver something that looks like a quarter with gills, some fish with little feeler things on its mouth, a frog, and the white fish the flowy fins that would be the death of everything. Oh, the hours my boyfriend and I spent in each other's arms, looking at the aquarium and delighting in our makeshift family. Then disaster struck. White fish with the flowy fins got bumpy things and his flowy fins started getting stumpy. The other inhabitants of the aquarium were fine for days, maybe a week. We went back to Petco and manager lady gave us drugs to medicate the aquarium. We medicated as instructed and everything returned to normal. Oh, the hours my boyfriend and I spent in each other's arms, looking at the aquarium with relief at having averted disaster. Then disaster struck. White fish with the flowy fins got bumpy things on his flowy fins and started getting stumpy again. The other fishes, the frog, and the snail started getting bumpy things days later. Then I awoke one morning to find everyone floating belly-up at the top of the aquarium, except white fish with the flowy fins. He no longer has bumpy things but he's still stumpy. He swims around all day, all alone, content to have his kingdom to himself finally. Fucker. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-07-09T10:26:59-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/83380608.html I hate you, white fish with the flowy fins text To the Beautiful Men of Hollywood http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/82319088.html Living in Hollywood, nearly everything that I could need or want is within walking distance of my home. In my travels around town, I have been fortunate enough to meet some of the city’s finest gentlemen, and have been welcomed by them with open arms. Here are just a few that I would like to pay tribute to. Mr. Pickup truck: Why, every time I set off in the morning for the gym and a horn blares behind me as I walk down the sidewalk, I am reminded of why I moved here. Yes, baby, I want you too. This whole “walking to the gym” thing is just a guise. What could be more inviting than a dirty stranger in a pickup truck leaning out his window while grabbing his crotch and licking his lips? Mr. Grandpa: I admit that sometimes when I’m walking around town, I avoid eye contact with people on the street. You however, were different. At about seventy years old, with thin grey hair and a stooping walk, you reminded me of my grandfather. I looked up at you as I walked past, and my warm smile was met with a delicious leer and a low, hissed, “mama mia.” I don’t usually date guys more than a few years older than I am, but… Mr. Ffffffft: Usually the eye rape from a total stranger is enough to get me really interested in a guy, but you did me one better. The eye rape combined with the loud “fffft” as I passed by was truly unique and I will never forget it. Too bad the light changed before I could give you my digits. Mr. Friend: In a city like LA that can sometimes make you feel a bit lonely and disconnected, how nice to know that I have a friend. Especially a new friend, who walked up to me as I was on my way home from the grocery store and announced that you were, “a friend from God sent to me to walk me home.” I do love for strange men I meet on the street to follow me around, especially to my front door. No, really, I always walk that fast. Sorry you couldn’t keep up. Mr. “Where else you gonna meet me?” After walking through the blaring hot sun from Hollywood to the Grove one day, what a delight it was to encounter such a gentleman as yourself. I do tend to keep my eyes down as I walk, but it’s just to test your tenacity – how much do you REALLY want to meet me. It must’ve been a lot – thanks – because I saw you waiting for me about a block before I reached the K-Mart parking lot. I always love it when new people grab my arm as I’m walking by and tell me what a “fiiiine lookin’ woman” I “be”. I was only kidding when I told you that I don’t like to give my number out to men that I meet on the street. I really did appreciate you following me for the next block screaming about LA women and demanding to know how else I am going to meet a gem like you. If you had only followed me ALL THE WAY into the K-Mart, I would have totally given you my number. Mr. Comedian: I know I tend to walk fast. Especially when I’m leaving Runyon and hoofing the mile and a half home to get ready for work. It was awesome that you could keep pace with me, and entertain me on that long, early trek home. I could hardly believe my luck when you gave me your card (just the name Dave – Stand-up Comic and a phone number) as we parted ways, encouraging me to “give you a ring sometime.” Let me make sure I understand – you approached ME, talked MY ear off for five blocks, told me you find ME attractive, and now this onus is on me to call YOU. What a lucky, lucky girl I am. You really are funny. Mr. Homeless Man: I felt bad when you asked me for money outside of the Starbucks and I didn’t have any to give you (really, I had no cash at all). So bad, in fact, that I offered to buy you something to eat while I was getting my coffee. You looked at me blankly. I suggested a nice scone, you requested something, “not so whole-wheaty.” Um, ok, why not come in with me and pick something out. Chocolate chip scone? Lemon scone, maybe? Oh, will I get you both? I guess…What’s that? A bag of chips, too? You’re pushing it, but my mom’s coming in to town today and I’m in a great mood. Wait, is that a sandwich? Come on, I have to draw the line somewhere. No sandwich. Will I go out with you sometime? Are you sure that the bus stop I see you hanging in has enough room for two? All the scone talk made me late for work. That’s why I suddenly had to run so fast. Lastly, how could I fail to acknowledge the men I pass on my daily trips around town who call softly to me as I pass, “Nice tits,” or “Shake that ass, baby.” Even the gentle catcall is not lost on me. And nothing is more flattering than being propositioned like a prostitute 10 feet from my front door. (Easy mistake to make though, since most of the prostitutes in the area are MEN and hang out looking for Johns with a 28 lb. carton of cat litter and 12-pack of toilet paper in tow.) So, to the men of LA I have been lucky enough to meet around town; thank you. I now avoid eye contact with just about everyone, and tend to run the other direction if it looks like someone is about to approach me. My sole intention when I leave the house on foot is to be invisible until I reach my destination. I know that not every guy in LA is like this (spare me the e-mails) but far too many are. Every story above is true, and those are only the most original. Think LA women are bitchy? I wonder why. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-07-03T17:50:26-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/82319088.html To the Beautiful Men of Hollywood text CL Code http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/79691807.html m4m = I totally want to do anything that has the word "fuck" in it. m4w, w4m = I want to fuck you but I'll do dinner first if you want. strictly platonic = I want to fuck you but let's talk about something first. casual encounter = I want to fuck you and not have to pay much attention. missed connections = I want to fuck you and I hope you saw me standing ten feet away from you with a bunch of other people and you wanted to fuck me too and you just happen to be looking in CL and reading this right now and still want to fuck me. rant and rave = fuck you. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-19T09:41:24-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/79691807.html CL Code text to the Fucking Asshole Formerly Known as Boyfriend http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/78736025.html i just want you to know that i am so deliriously happy that we are not together anymore. of course, it could be my meds kicking in. nah, i'm reeeeeeally happy. first off, it was really shitty what you did. i mean, who the fuck breaks up over EMAIL???? grow the fuck up for god's sake. yeah, i was hurt for like a week, but i got over it fast. now i almost feel like i should thank your chicken shit ass for dumping me. it's the biggest favor you ever did for me. these are the REASONS WHY I'M GLAD WE'RE NOT TOGETHER, in no particular order of importance : 1. you are fucking OLD. old, old, old. i was 28. you will be 47. you were old enough to be my goddamn father. to give you your credit, you definitely look alot younger than 47. but i wanna be the one to break it to you that you do not look as young as you think you do you vain peter pan syndrome son of a bitch. you have roadmap-like wrinkles at your eyes and crepey old-person neck. and in bright sunlight all your fucking wrinkles stand out like bright blinking neon. 2. you are going BALD. scratch that. you have ADVANCED HAIR LOSS. it happens. why can't you just accept it? you are not fooling anyone with the baseball cap. it looks even more obvious and lame that you try to hide it. you know what i've always wanted to tell you? SHAVE IT OFF!!!!!!!! let it go, embrace your baldness, shave the little hair that you cling to so tenaciously!!!!!!!!!!! oh, and in case you didn't know, i got a good look up there and it's starting to go on top too. good god, i am so glad that i'm not with your BADLY BALDING ass anymore. and just so you know, my new boyfriend is not only 17 years younger than you are, he has a FULL HEAD of GLORIOUS, SHINY, SILKY SHAMPOO COMMERCIAL HAIR. 3. LACK OF SEX. thank fucking god that my eight month sex drought with you is OVER. i've come to two possible explanation for your lack of a sex drive : a. you are OLD and therefore do not have the requisite testosterone to make you want sex. b. you are GAY. if this is true, just accept it and come out of your admittedly nice fucking closet already. there is nothing WORST than an OLD, REPRESSED HOMO. in any case, i'm happy happy HAPPY that you are no longer SEXUALLY DISAPPOINTING ME. oh, and just so you know, my new boyfriend fucks me all night long and makes me cum over and over and OVER again. 4. your taste in t.v. shows and movies SUCK BIG DONKEY DICK. i can't believe i watched all that banal crap with you. i must have really loved you. but HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA i never have to watch any of that crap again. i HATE STARGATE. it is fucking lame. i HATE CHEATERS. it is super stupid too. and i especially HATE the APPRENTICE. 5. YOU SHIT SEVEN TIMES A DAY. and each time it takes you an HOUR. my god, how is it possible a human being can shit so fucking much?????????????????????? it can't be healthy. and it's even more gross how much you enjoy it and broadcast to anyone who will listen that you just took a shit or need to take a shit. you are SHIT OBSESSED. come to think of it, you are a SHITHEAD. 6. YOU ARE SO FUCKING, INCREDIBLY, UNBELIEVABLY VAIN. and, yes, you KNOW this song is about you. AND YOU ARE NOT EVEN GOOD LOOKING. the two things you have physically going for you are your height and your blue eyes. other than that, you are just ok at best. in fact, i thought you were distinctly unattractive when i first met you. i'm grateful i no longer have to be the one to reassure you and (lie) tell you how young and studly you look. 7. YOUR MYSTIC TAN ADDICTION IS LAME. it does not look natural. you look ORANGE. you look like a big, balding ORANGE mook. 8. YOU DYE YOUR EYELASHES. good god. you are sooooooooo narcissistic. in fact, you are more of a fucking girl than i am. you know the worst part? you fuck it up! just pay to have it professionally done for christsake! 9. YOUR COLOGNE IS GAY. it makes you smell like a sailor on shore leave. it should be called "eau de old cheesy rich man that thinks he's sauve and crazysexycool". who the fuck buys cologne called "SEXUAL" anyway? what are you, a porn producer? you know what i really, really, REALLY REGRET?????????? that i didn't use you like all of your other gold digging girlfriends. i actually loved you and didn't want you to buy me anything. i could just kick myself for being so stupid. i should've abused the shit out of your black card when i had the chance. but anyway. despite all of your SERIOUS FLAWS, i know you won't have a problem finding another good looking girlfriend. thank god you are rich and there are alot of gold diggers in l.a. you'll be absolutely fine. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-14T02:05:34-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/78736025.html to the Fucking Asshole Formerly Known as Boyfriend text Free VCR with Porno video stuck in it http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/78715865.html Magnavox 4-head Hi Fi VCR with awesome porno stuck inside for free. I am sure the tape can be removed, but I just dont have the time to bother with it. If you are great with your hands, come get it. E-mail me for directions. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-13T21:14:41-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/78715865.html Free VCR with Porno video stuck in it text Here's a story, of a man named Brady... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/78419334.html ...Well my name's not Brady, but here's my story. <img src="http://img14.imgspot.com/u/05/84/15/craigsad4A.jpg"> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-06-12T10:14:10-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/78419334.html Here's a story, of a man named Brady... text RANT- Trader Joe's http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/71156291.html While I will remain a proponent of Trader Joe's, as a favorably priced and morally responsible company, I have come to the irreversible decision that four avocados are simply too many for me, and despite Trader Joe's progressive allowance to buy individual beers or sodas, it is my understanding that the only accepted way to purchase an avocado is to buy the netted four pack, and this practice has begun to make me resent avocados as a whole, and to even go so far as to call their ripening process "fascist." Everytime I buy those little bastards, it seems their window of delicious edibility is half what it was the last time they were purchased. I've bought the green ones, investing in avocado futures, if you will, only to desire one immediately and end up either attempting some strange way to expedite the ripening process (if you find yourself in this situation, do NOT believe putting it the oven is a clever solution) and ended up with unpleasantly firm green lumps on my burger, or gone and bought a single ripe avocado, bringing my avocado total to five, which is an absurd amount of avocados to have in any non-commercial setting. The other side is being stuck with four impossibly ripe avocados (I think they may enter some sort of ripeness suicide pact while stuck in the netting) and forcing yourself to make a dish which would benefit from avocado (they don't work in miso soup, by the way) and then eventually getting sick of avocados, only to buy the green ones on my next grocery trip, because I think that in the time it takes for them to ripen, I'll want avocado. I have contemplated that I may be at fault in this situation, but I inevitably let myself off the hook, and conclude that life is far more interesting if minor inconveniences are engendered by impossibly complicated conspiracies, rather than human error. And while I intend to address avocados as the inanimate, edible objects they are while in standard conversations, it does not mean I don't secretly consider them wily, anthropomorphic, and occasionally believe them to engage in legume-related wrongdoing. The original etymological root of "avocado" is Aztec for "testicle," and I think that's where the problem started. You know how you don't mess with Cthulhu artifacts? Well, think about it this way, avocados were officially ridiculed by people that engaged in public human sacrifice, and like the child becoming a bully due to his father's abuse, avocados serve to mock us in the only way possible without giving away their nefarious intentions- by messing with citizens that wish to enjoy their smooth, nutty flavor. So, if you happen to have an avocado with you while perusing this bulletin, hold it up to your computer screen, because in the chance that avocados can read (I give it about 65% / 35%) I hope that they will understand that the reason why we buy avocados is because we like them, and only through this understanding can we reach a new accord with our South American friends, and then the healing can begin. On the non hippie-dippy side, this could alert avocados that people are paying attention, and that their role as the one truly elite condiment is in jeopardy in the coveted home market due to this chicanery. All right avocados, ball's in your court. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-05-01T17:15:48-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/71156291.html RANT- Trader Joe's text How to get yourself laid - a 10 step guide http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/70972420.html Ok boys so this is kinda a semi rant, but seriously, if you guys out there would follow these seemingly obvious pieces of advice, you'd help yourself a lot. It amazes me to no to end how moronic guys are when trying to score with women. I'm putting these tips out there for the greater good...so we don't have to put up with you, and you have a better chance. Good luck... First off, realize that when we meet you, you fall into one of two categories. 1) We'll NEVER have sex, or 2) MAYBE we'll have sex. Realize, maybe is not YES. At any point if you screw up with one of the following, you get thrown right from maybe to NO. The only time you are safely in the "yes" bag is well...basically when you are already doing it. 1) Dont mention our body parts to us, especially in the first conversation. I'm fascinated when guys blurt out "you have big tits" to me...um...what am I supposed to say to that?? If you want to compliment a girl, keep it general, you know "you look pretty" etc. The only time you should comment on specific parts is if we're naked. And p.s., no girl EVER wants to hear that any part of us is "Huge". Even if you think sayign "huge tits" or "huge ass" is a compliment, we hear it the same as "huge nose" or "Huge thighs". its just bad - don't. 2) Stop hitting on us. There is a difference between a guy trying to talk to you, and a guy "hitting" on you. Don't use these cheesy lines or say something lame. Be genuine - a "hi" and a smile gets you further than most anything else. You may still get rejected, but at least we will think youa re nice and be gentle. Trust me , we LAUGH AT YOU when you approach us trying to be "smooth." 3)Pick up on the girl's signals. Sometimes I'll be hanging out with a few girlfriends getting a drink and some guy will just come up to our table and try to talk to us, totally interrupting. We'll be so aprehensive and standoffish, shooting each other looks etc. and the guy will stand there forever. If a girl (or espeically group of girls) does not seem warm and receptive, for god sakes, leave them alone. You're just making an ass out of youself. Pretty much in general approaching a group of girls is just a bad idea, you've got your work cut out for you Ok lets say you are lucky enough to get the girl to make out with you. Now is a whole nother region of ways you can fuck it up. Just because we want to kiss you does nto mean automatically we want to FUCK You. Honestly, its way different. That being said... 4.Be a good kisser (that is a HUGE dealbreaker right there). 5. Don't move to fast. You know what is FUCKING HOT!? When a guy DOESNT try to get in your pants right away. Seriously, try it. If you try to bust out the condom or what not the first time we make out, i'll think you're sleazy and wonder how many other times you do that. If we hook up a couple times without you even trying to unbutton my pants, by the third time i'll be tearing at yours. Girls will kick up the sex kitten factor if they think they have a challange. Now of course make sure she knows you are interested etc, but playing a little coy in the bedroom will get you so much further, as long as you have patience. If you can't stand the thought of three dates with the girl, then well maybe you shouldn't be sleepign with her anyways. 5. Speaking of busting out, why on earth do you feel the need to pull it out randomally? Haha the funny thing is, of guys who have done this to me while makign out, most have a rather unimpressive member. You pulling it out does not mean im gonna touch it. It just makes me think you are pretty sad, and then i'll probably have a funny story for my friends. Let us take control in this area. If we're fumbling with your buttons or rubbing your area then yah, we want it. Otherwise play to the cautious side and keep him in your boxers. 6. Groom ! I always wonder about guys i've hooked up with who seems to do pretty well with the ladies and are totally all hairy down there. You like us to be trimmed and clean right? Well we like it too...You don't have to be all shaved and bald down there, but at least trim it back nicely. It makes you more fun to go down on...and you like that right? ON a side note, have any of you seen the Fred Durst sex video? WTF? This guy is a huge rock star, can't he afford to wax his belly and get a personal trainer? GROSS!! 7. Make some noise. I can't stand it when a guy is dead silent - even as he is cumming. Seriously, it sucks having no feedback. Moan, say something - anything! Its so much hotter when a guy is really responsive. 8. Be generous. NOthing lamer than a selfish guy in bed. I remember a guy telling me about how he slept with close to 60 women, but only went down on one girl, ONCE. But totally expects the girl to give head all the time. Grow up...if you don't like a girl's pussy, maybe you are better off in the "men seeking men" section. 9. Use the phone. Ok so i get it, guys dont always call a lot, maybe they're not too into it etc. THats fine. But if you SAY you are going to call/hang out, then do it. Flaking is a turn off. Don't make plans if you don't want to keep it. But that pretty much goes for life in general 10. Finally...Just pretend you're not the dog you are. Look, we're not dumb, if we're dressed super sexy we know why youare talking to us. We know you are probably checking out our ass/tits/belly whatever. But just attempt to look like you're not and you care what we say. yes its an illusion, but just humor us. Oh also, if you're standing around dont BLATANTLY check out other girls. I've seen guys do this from across teh way. What if I thought you were cute? If i see you bending your neck over some girl's ass, I'll think you are a dork, and then I won't approach you. YOu never know who is watching.... OK. Hope this helps...so I realize that this isnt for all girls. There are plenty out there with low self-esteem, daddy "issues", people who need attention etc who will hook up with guys even if they do ALL of the bad things. But do you want a girl who is all vulernable and pathetic? Haha probably...but in case you feel like shagging a quality one, go with the advice above. Also, clearly this goes for the first time you are trying to get a girl in bed. IF she's your GF and you're having probs...who knows. Try the grooming thing. <img src=http://shop.trashy.com/images/collection/margin_202.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-30T10:12:54-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/70972420.html How to get yourself laid - a 10 step guide text Anal Bleaching – NOT just for women http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/70809437.html Anal Bleaching – NOT just for women Anal bleaching is a hot topic here on CL Rants & Raves – “You women do that?!?!,” asked one poster, and then answered his own question with, “WHY?!?!” Anal bleaching is just one of a wide variety of new non-invasive procedures that assist in creating Total Colo-Rectal Beauty. All TCRB components help not only appearance and hygiene, but assist in restoring the lost youthful innocence, elasticity, and confidence that age and improper food choices often erase. TCRB is not just a catchword – it’s a beautiful and natural lifestyle. If you’re tired of looking at a pulsating mini-me of the Giant Caves of Borneo in a UPS delivery truck color scheme, imagine what others think when they view your well-used and discolored Portal of Secrets (POS). And no amount of quick-fix items like Viewana or Lookout Below will ever get to the root of your discomfort in sharing your POS, because these sort of anal makeups are coverups and do not address the three primary reasons for anal discoloration and disfigurement. They do not eradicate those rather freakish effects. As for anal dyes, the longterm effects of mineral and petroleum-based pigments on and about the unique anal skin and color-rectal musculature have yet to be determined. But if overuse of hair dye contributes to bladder cancer, imagine what harsh dyes might do when applied directly to tender surface and deep tissues… Rule 1: Garbage in, dark feces out – It all starts with food and drink. The dyes in processed foods and soft drinks will carry as far in your system as the liquid carriers allow. When someone says a cola drinks or coffee went “right through me,” that’s the literal truth, and on the way out the cola colors, food dyes, and darker red meats leave microscopic color particles that, over a period of years through continuing passes over the anal tissue, recolor your natural anus to an unnatural hue. If your face looked like your anus, you’d get it corrected quickly, wouldn’t you? And that’s because everyone would see. But it is vastly more important that those special areas of your precious body, to be viewed, cherished, and photographed (and videoed) by you and your loved one(s), are as sparkling and attractive as your face. If the damage is already done, your best simple and low-cost option is anal bleaching. Rule 2: Keep it clean at all times – Before his untimely demise, the critically acclaimed rap artist Tupac offered timeless words of wisdom to his “posse” after being asked what it took to have attractive women surround one. His answer was an elegantly simple reply: “Do some situps and wash your ass.” While keeping your POS in tip-top working shape via various baby wipes is mandatory for POS health, no matter how hard you rub you cannot erase the damage and discoloration caused by years of previous poor food choices and average anal cleansing. Anal bleaching, however, can take you back to those pre-damage years. Rules 3: Wipe IN and OUT – Chances are that you have not revisited your wiping procedures since they were first established at age 2-4. Children’s motor skills at that age are fairly rough and, no matter how well-intended the instruction, the lifelong tendency is to cross wipe up and down, and/or across, and smear the feces around the localized anal area (LAA). Over years what that does is discolor and stain your anus. The ideal technique is to center the remaining fecal matter at the center of the anal opening by wiping “in” and then grasping the entire waste package and pulling it “out” and away from the buttocks (to avoid smear stains). But due to poor anal wiping technique, many anuses are dark by the teen years, as an examination of the pictures you and your friends likely took of your own anus at that age would reveal. Anal bleaching is the first simple step towards TCRB. Starting with very weak vegetable-based pre-bleaching solutions, the TCRB aesthetician gently applies appropriate agents. If the vegetable agents do not work, then s/he applies progressively stronger solutions until the stains have vanished or that protocol is exhausted. If the Level I agent did not work, they s/he may select Level II bleaches, which are chemically and naturally based and usually in a warm fatty oil solution. Up to 30% of all anal staining can be corrected within those two levels. For more stubborn coloring, a Level III lye and chemical isolated bath may be required. This involves securing the anal area with special dams made out of plastic and sealed with surgical tape. These cylinders are open on both ends; one end goes over the anus and is sealed with tape, and the other stands above the buttocks and receives the caustic mix. The patient is then given a local anesthetic to ease the pain caused by the lye and chemicals while lying on their stomach for about 2-3 hours, depending on stain severity. The cylinder is then heated via elements imbedded in its walls until the solution is 10-12 degrees warmer than the patient’s body temperature. In very advanced cases, color-rectal bleaching may involved a hospital stay of 2-3 days, full anesthesia, industrial-grade cleansers, and chromium-based dyes. After the successful bleaching that leaves the area a snowy ice white, patients may go home or opt for area coloring that may range from a light pink to rich ruby red. Striations in differing shades can add a natural “lived in” look, so that nobody ever suspects you had an anal cleansing and bleaching. Not even your children. NEXT: Inside the colon for TCRB. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-29T09:22:49-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/70809437.html Anal Bleaching – NOT just for women text Guard Your Nipple Hair! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/69497099.html This is a true story… I know this Asian guy from work. He’s our marketing manager. His name used to be Tom, but he changed it to Remy last year. He is very flamboyant. He drives a black M3 that is always spotless. He likes to wear Gucci, Prada, Boss and his favorite, Versace. In his early 30’s, he’s the quintessential bachelor. He’s always going out with these hot Asian women. I hear him on the phone either sweet-talking or arguing with someone every day. Anyhow, he announced one day, to everyone’s surprise, that he was engaged. I really love her, he said. In the several months that followed, my coworkers and I got to know his fiancé well. Not because we met them socially outside of work, but because she would show up to our office and wait for him in the lobby. On Thursdays and Fridays, you could bet that she was there in the lobby after work, and I think she met him for lunch everyday. Knowing Remy, and his natural tendency to look around, I think it was wise for his fiancé to keep her eyes on him, but she just went way overboard with it. She was a beautiful lady. And, from what I could tell, she was highly educated and successful at her job. She just had this thing with insecurity and jealousy. She was constantly afraid that he was going to cheat on her. On one Friday, Remy came to work in a tight-fitting black T-shirt. That’s nothing out of the ordinary for him, except his T-shirt was a fishnet shirt. It wasn’t wide fishnet like the pantyhose, but it was still a fishnet shirt. Even on a casual Friday, that shirt just didn’t belong in an office. And, of course, we get a call. Our biggest client was in the area and decided to drop by unannounced. And, she’s in the lobby now. While Remy and I are walking toward the lobby to greet her, I notice something sticking out of his shirt. It’s his damn nipple hair. Like most Asian guys, he didn’t have any chest hair, but he evidently had nipple hair. And this single strand of black hair was sticking out like some pubic hair. And we’re about to meet our biggest client, who’s probably decked out in a formal suit. What do I do, what do I do? I can’t possibly have his nipple hair greet her. No, I can’t. So, I plucked it! I plucked the damn nipple hair! Remy gave me this look that he couldn’t believe what I just did. I told him that I was going to deny everything, and then we greeted our client. I didn’t think much about it at all after that. On Monday, however, Remy stormed into my office and said: “Do you know what you’ve done? You know that hair you pulled out? My fiancé found out about it, and she broke up with me!” “Wha…what?! Wait just a minute!” From the unlikely conversation that ensued in my office that morning, I gathered the following information. Apparently, he used to have three nipple hair thingies on his right nipple. I don’t know why his fiancé keeps a running count of his bodily hair, but she noticed that he was one shy that night. And, she confronted him about it. “What happened to the third nipple hair?” Dumfounded by the question, he said. “Oh, it fell out.” That answer apparently didn’t ring true, and she just flipped out and accused him of cheating on her. Finally, he said, “You want the truth, my supervisor pulled it out at work today!” And, that probably didn’t sound right, either. They got into the biggest argument yet, and finally, she screamed, “YOU’RE CHEATING ON ME, YOU’RE CHEATING ON ME, YOU’RE CHEATING ON ME, AND IT’S OVER!” She threw the engagement ring at his face and stormed out of his apartment. “……” I was speechless. I offered to call his fiancé and tell her that I really did pluck his nipple hair, but he declined. I think they talked a few times after that, but they never recovered. Of all the things that can break up an engagement, it was his nipple hair. That nipple hair broke up their engagement. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-21T09:43:10-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/69497099.html Guard Your Nipple Hair! text Join my GAY street gang! - m4mm http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/69493456.html Are you tough? Violent? Rough around the edges? You can't be kept down? Do you think Jennifer Hudson is totally a better diva than Fantasia and you'd kick anyone's ass who disagrees? I'm starting up a gay gang! We'll do all the things that tough street gangs do (pick fights, steal wallets, critique b-list actresses on the red carpet) but we'll be comprised of gay men! Now this gang isn't fancy-pansy like the ones in West Side Story. Wait, who am I kidding? It's EXACTLY like West Side Story. Only this time, Tony and Chino will have the cajones to actually get together, instead of wasting time on Natalie Wood (whose only good performance was in Rebel Without a Cause there I said it). To join you'll have to pass a rigorous test. We can't tell you our gang name or our colors yet (and they change according to the Helmut Lang line), so you'll meet us at an undisclosed location near the Santa Monica pier. First, you have to find an unsuspecting straight couple (preferably on a date) and mug them. Take their money, but only grab the wallet or purse if it is Burberry, Fendi, or something comparable. And be sure to mention that you thought [insert whatever the girl was wearing] went out two years ago. Second, you have to mastermind a huge drug sale. This will be unbelievably easy, since you'll do it with E in the bathroom of The Abbey. Third, you will be forced to get in a fight with one of the other gang hopefuls. The rest of us will be watching as you wrestle around, and you should be sure to tear some clothing and throw in a few light kisses and moans. So if you're tough enough, just email me and we can start our gang. It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, as long as you are attractive and have a great body. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-21T09:26:38-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/69493456.html Join my GAY street gang! - m4mm text Dear Outer Space Inhabitant http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/66968675.html Greetings non-earthling. This message comes to you from a message board called 'Craig's List' (it's sort of a community message board) in Los Angeles, USA, planet earth. The management of Craig's List have decided to transmit our messages to outer space, that is how you are receiving this. I just wanted to say 'hey.' How are things on, errrr, whatever planet you are from? Since this is my first intergalactic correspondence, I have a few questions: I wonder.....in order to come visit us, you must have to travel at great speeds, nearing the speed of light. How does a flying saucer, which seems to have no engines save for the ability to spin on it's center axis, achieve such great speeds? Further, why do your spaceships make that strange whistling sound? One time, Greg and Peter tricked Bobby into thinking he saw a flying saucer using only a flashlight, a sheet and a whistle. It was funny. Second, when your friends come here, why do they only crash in the American Southwest. It is an area coincidentally occupied by many of our military bases. (Yes, we are so young in our evolution that we still have wars.) The problem is, the military scoops up your crashed space ships, and only a handful of toothless geeks have the true evidence of your visitations here. You guys have big eyes. Do you wear giant sunglasses? Third, what exactly is your fascination with the American Southwest? Sure, I could see a visit to Santa Fe or Phoenix in your travel plans, but the southern Mojave? Is it the weather? Get lost on your way to Vegas? Is it the food? I do love a plate of chorizo and eggs. Have you guys ever been to the moon? We been there. Anyway, next time you are in our galaxy, feel free to stop by. I make a killer Chili Relleno. But please call first. Your pal, Sparky webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-04-04T21:50:53-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/66968675.html Dear Outer Space Inhabitant text Songs I want to kick my ass for liking... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/66014963.html I really wanted to kick my own ass the other day. I was on a business trip in Biloxi, MS and cruising down the casino strip in my bitching Malibu Capri. I normally bring my own CDs when traveling for a few days and renting a car, however on this trip neglected to do so. If you take a look in my own disc changer, you’d think I have a pentagram tattooed on my ass. I’ve got Slipknot, Slayer, Black Sabbath, ACDC, Iron Maiden and Public Enemy in there right now. Chuck D and Flavor Flav may not be up for drinking goat’s blood, but damn were they angry. With those at home it left me the laborious task of finding a suitable radio station to listen to. This was easier said than done. Finally I landed on a song that had a decent sounding guitar riff, and I found myself bobbing my balding head to it. I knew it wasn’t going to be anything too exciting, but it had a good beat and I was enjoying it. Then the lyrics hit. “I’ll spread my wings and I’ll learn how to fly…” My good Goddamn. It was Kelly Clarkson’s “Breakaway”. My chick loves that song, so I have heard it before. But never alone. I reached out my trembling finger to change the station, but I was weakened by the original American Idol siren’s voice! Finally the song ended, and I quickly changed the station. The Clarkson Gods were against me that day, as the song had just started on another fucking station. I was compelled to listen to the whole thing by that gap-toothed turd, since I had only caught it in the middle the last time. Somehow, I had picked up some of the lyrics and found myself singing along. I was at a red light and had the windows down and was oblivious to my surroundings. Until I looked over and saw some brace-face pimply teen laughing at me as she was listening to the same damn song! I held my head and cried like Ogre losing the arm wrestling contest to that Omega Mu in “Revenge of the Nerds”. If Glenn Danzig saw me, he would kick in my teeth. Tommy Lee would shove his drumsticks in my ass and probably give me some form of hepatitis in the process. Then I realized it; I may bleed metal, but I still am a huge douchebag every once in a while. I guess I can only take so much of the head banging music before I need to listen to a good mindless pop song. While I don’t think I can cover them all, here are five songs I want to kick my own ass for liking: 5 - “Nothing Compares 2 U”, Sinead O’Connor. I hate that bald bitch. If I saw her walking down the street, I’d probably mule kick her in the skull. I’d tear her apart like she did that picture of the Pope. But I can go a good 5 years without hearing this song and still know all the words and sing it with a passion unheard of. 4 – “Stay”, Lisa Loeb & Nine Stories. This was from the “Reality Bites” soundtrack. “Reality Bites” sucked my hairy ass. I never liked the movie. I never liked the whole grunge scene it represented. I almost stopped liking Pearl Jam because members were in the movie. But they took care of that later by releasing shitty music. Everyone told me how good this soundtrack was, so I bought it and it stunk like the elephant section at the zoo. But if this song comes on the radio, I’ll blare that fucker and noodle dance all over my apartment. 3 – “Again”, Janet Jackson. This song depresses the shit out of me. When I hear it, I feel like a 40-year old woman going though a mid-life crisis. I want to ball up in my bed, eat a gallon of ice cream and cry. Then I think of her disgusting naked nipple and I cry for real. 2 – “Complicated,” Avril Lavigne. I get furious when people tell me this chick rocks. She doesn’t. I even have a hard time admitting that Lita Ford rocked, but at least I could relate to Lita’s lyrics of getting wasted and laid. I cannot relate to ANYTHING Avril puts out, especially this song. But it comes on, and all of the sudden I am a 17-year old school girl, pissed at my parents, school and my jerk of a boyfriend Steve. 1 – “Bye Bye Bye,” NSYNC. If you take a look at the lyrics to this piece of shit, it actually could have fit in on either “Use Your Illusion” 1 or 2 by Guns N’ Roses. It has more bite than “Don’t Cry”, that’s for sure. But Justin and JC and are no Axl and Slash. Bye Bye Don't wanna be a fool for you Just another player in your game for two You may hate me but it ain't no lie, Baby, bye, bye, bye...” Anything else by these cheese dicks that I hear makes me irate. But I hear this fucking tune and my ass is shaking like I was the choreographer for the video. I cannot stop it! I spin, I grind my hips, and I do a modified running man. If you’ve never seen a 5’4” chubby old guy do this, I highly suggest you do. At least once a year someone finds this CD in my car and challenges why in the blue hell I have it. With no good excuse, I pull the 13 year old girlie defense by grabbing it, hiding it and screaming, “SHUT UP!” Damn you NYSYNC!! I’m just kidding. I could never be mad at you guys. So there you have it. My Sabbath Fan Club card is probably being revoked right now with a scribbled letter from Ozzy coming in the mail telling me to piss off. Just remember, next time you see some mulleted freak rocking a Korn shirt in his ’88 Camero, it may just be Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” that he is mouthing the words to. And I may be sitting right next to him. this is in or around Los Angeles webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-03-29T12:57:03-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/66014963.html Songs I want to kick my ass for liking... text Fuck you LA, and the BMW you rode in on… http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/64768914.html This is it…the last straw. There have been other last straws, too many to count in fact, but this is really really it. I have spent 2 years in this godforsaken metropolis testing my tolerance for the intolerable and I have finally given up- I hate you I hate you I hate you. FUCK YOU Universal Studios, Burbank!! And FUCK YOU Curious George parking structure. I spent 90% of my day waiting in your stupid lines, for your short, stupid fucking rides and paid $60 to do it. I hated you already, and then some stupid fucking zit-faced Valley riff raff stole my fucking iPod. I am not rich, you stupid jerk- I don’t even have hubcabs on my car, jackhole- so what WHAT on earth made you think I had an iPod in my glove compartment, I’ll never know. But I have secretly made a pact with god that if he exists and I make it to heaven that my reward for living a good life will be to meet up with you, alone, in the alley behind St. Peters gate. I’ve got a baseball bat with your name on it… FUCK YOU man that chased me down Western Ave. in Hollywood. I’m sorry I didn’t have a light, I just quit smoking. I’m even sorrier I didn’t want you to rape me, I just quit getting raped. FUCK YOU traffic on the 405 at 4am. When I’m driving home at 4am, I’m either drunk, horney, or crying (the only reason one is driving at 4am), so I need you to be clear. I spend my whole day at your mercy, doing runs, burning high-priced watered-down gas, and basing my entire social life on your whims, but at 4 fucking am, I need you to NOT CLOSE DOWN TO ONE FUCKING LANE. I hate you. FUCK YOU Pacific Ocean. No one told me you would be cold...all.the.time. Pamela Anderson is a fuckin’ liar… FUCK YOU cum-dumpster that took off my side-view mirror going 55mph and KEPT DRIVING WHILE I WAS SITTING IN MY CAR. I suppose I should be thankful because10 seconds earlier and I would be eating go-gurt out of a feeding tube. But really, FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU neighbors that wake me up every single god-damned morning. Yes, the puppy is very cute, but I swear to god if you don’t stop saying it at 6am every morning I am going to drop kick the fucking terrier and then punch out your other front tooth. Perhaps it would help if you spoke English so I knew what you were so excited about at 6am. Maybe you’re talking about the social security crisis or the lack-thereof. Maybe you’re reminiscing about life in the old country; working hard to pass on your oral traditions to the younger generations. But I’m pretty sure you’re asking me to come over there and kick your ass…or just key your car and run away. And finally, FUCK YOU Los Angeles Craigslist community. I moved to this city a wide-eyed, impressionable recent college graduate [read:poor]. I was in need of many things: a job, a roommate, a love life, a toaster, etc. I turned to you. You came highly recommended from friends back east and so I jumped blindly, expecting to be caught by your soft, fuzzy, missed connections arms. So far, I have found: - A roommate embroiled in a lawsuit with a “major studio”, shooting porn for pocket-money and selling postcards on the off-ramp of a “major freeway” for fun - A run in with a “pseudo-nudist”. Newsflash, buddy. If you watch re-runs of Golden Girls with your schlong out, there is no “pseudo” about it. - A crap-tastic desk that has a door that won’t stay shut so that at the most inopportune moment, like say when my tiny little sister is visiting, it flies open, revealing my resin stained bowl and a bag of weed that would make Pablo Escobar proud. Awesome. - A job selling custom closets in Compton. you don’t need a closet. You need to move. No, I’m not kidding. I’d put this old Italian thousand-year curse I know on you, but I think the wildfires, earthquakes, floods, mudslides, and 800lb flying boulders have got it covered. Perhaps you’ll collapse under the weight of your own smog someday, but til then, you guessed it. FUCK YOU. Obviously Yours, Me PS- FUCK YOU if you’re one of those “I don’t know why everyone has to be so down on LA” holier-than-thou types. You’re either dumb or you’re the cunt-rag/douch-bag that took my side-view mirror/iPod, in which case, FFFFFUCK YOUUUUUU! this is in or around ew. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-03-21T09:57:33-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/64768914.html Fuck you LA, and the BMW you rode in on… text The Craig’s List M4M Dictionary: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/60489400.html Swimmer’s Build (AKA swimmers built ?!). Term used to describe the physique of someone who has probably never swam a lap in his life. Generally means “I’m not fat, but I’m not ripped and muscular, hmm, I must have a swimmer’s build." Beefy (AKA Husky, Former High School Football Star): Fat ass. The prevalence of these people are the reason you can never find size 30 slacks in a department store. Jock (AKA Joc). Someone who tries very hard to be manly but probably is deathly afraid of sports and anything physical outside of the Weho 24-Hour Steamroom. Most men who actually do play sports would refer to themselves as “Athletic”. Str8 (AKA Stra8 and Str8 Acting) Man who lives in a parallel universe where jonesing for cock is not considered gay. “Pump my ass and work my dick boy, it’s cool because I’ve got a GF.” These people are a bane to those who are honest about their sexuality. GF: A fictitious creature alleged to be had by many men in M4M. GF’s are most commonly known to be “asleep,” “shopping,” or “out of town.” Discussion of the GF is intended to bolster intrigue, as in “cool, this dude usually fucks chicks, but now he wants me” among gay men with low self-esteem. 8X5C: A circumcised penis that is 6 inches long and about 4 inches in circumference. PNP (AKA Party and Play): Term used to describe the combination of a drug binge (usually meth or “T”) and sex. Emphasis is usually on the “party” as this is usually used as a low-grade form of prostitution, and participants usually will have a hard time performing sexually. Synonymous with transmission of sexual diseases. Vers/Top: Person who wishes to convey the illusion that you will actually get yours without having to jack off on your own. May suck your dick poorly for about 30 seconds before becoming a greedy sex pig. Married: Person who is intent on ruining not only his own life, but the life of a spouse and possible children through his patent dishonesty. So hot. BB (AKA Bare Back, Raw): “I have diseases that will probably kill me and you” Poz (AKA HIV+): Person who deserves a medal for being honest about his potential to transmit a dangerous virus and is generally looking to have sex with other Poz guys. Entertained? Hit the "Best of" Link. Annoyed, e-mail me your scathing remarks oh please. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-02-19T18:25:59-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/60489400.html The Craig’s List M4M Dictionary: text Recap: 60 reasons a Vibrator is better than a Man http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/60130772.html 1.It understands if I'm suddenly no longer in the mood. 2. It would never dream of cheating on me 3. It's always ready, willing and able. 4. It's never rough or angry. 5. It never gives me the silent treatment. 6. It never treats me like shit for no reason. 7. It never bosses me around. 8. It never stops doing what it's doing, right when I'm about to come. 9. It costs very little to maintain. 10.It never hogs the remote. 1. It doesn't make requests. 2. It goes at my pace. 3. It gets me off FASTER than a man. 4. It gets me off more intensely than a man. 5. It doesn't mind if I want to fall asleep after I get off. 6. It doesn't slap my ass. 7. It doesn't make me get on my knees and get hit from the back. 8. I don't have put on any sort of theatrical performance to get off. 9. I am never ashamed to wear granny undies in front of it. 10. It doesn't stop suddenly to answer its cellphone. 1. It never asks me to suck its dick 2. It never asks me to swallow 3. It never pushes my head down towards it and tries to force me to give it a blow job. 4. It never can’t get up and begs for some oral to assist it in rising to the occasion. 5. It never spits nasty cum at me. 6. It doesn’t leave a nasty wet spot. 7. It doesn’t pout and make me feel like I’m fucking a small child 8. It doesn’t think natural bodily functions are taboo. 9. It doesn’t make crude comments about “periods”, PMS or anything to do with douches. 10. It makes me happy, really, really happy 1. It has manners 2. It is never insensitive or crude 3. It doesn’t bring up all its other lovers 4. It never tells me the same boring conquest story over and over 5. It never watches sports on TV 6. It never goes out and has revenge sex 7. It has attachments that come in various sizes and colors to meet ALL my needs 8. It is always there when I need it. 9. It likes ME best, not its car, team or mother. 10. Its better sex that any sex I ever had with a man and it never minds if I have a man join in on the fun 1. It never tells me I’m fat 2. It never criticizes me 3. It never makes me feel like a cheap whore (unless I want it to) 4. It never demands a blowjob, as if it is his God given right. 5. It guarantees satisfaction and multiple orgasms 6. It never whines or begs 7. It never demands sex in repayment for dinner or a movie 8. Its always FUN to be around 9. It doesn’t need a bunch of coddling to perform 10. It doesn’t snore, belch, fart or hog the covers. 1. It lasts longer than 5 minutes. 2. It's reliable and doesn't talk back. 3. I don't have to clean its dirty laundry. 4. It's ready ALL of the time. 5. It has never lied to me. 6. It is ALWAYS 8.5", even soft. 7. It doesn't look at other women. 8. It's always happy to see me. 9. No risk of catching an STD. 10. It doesn't stay out all night (w/o me). this is in or around The complete list webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-02-17T08:34:22-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/60130772.html Recap: 60 reasons a Vibrator is better than a Man text “The Sink Is Not a Place to Wash your BALLS" http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/58338673.html “The Sink Is Not a Place to Wash your BALLS” By JH Welcome, to my day at the gym. It’s Thursday. 5 PM. I start off with a jog on the treadmill. I hate this thing. I run and run, yet I can’t get away. If I end up in hell this thing will most definitely be there. To my left there’s a guy who keeps clearing his throat “Uhhhh-Hummmm”!!! Every thirty seconds this fucker adjusts his mucus ball over and over again. I wish he would just spit it out; he’s really pissing me off. To my right there’s some crazy bastard running like he just downed two lines of Crystal Meth. I decide to leave these two alone. I was supposed to do ten minutes, but I cut it to five. Upstairs I go to the stretch area. I like to do about 3 minutes of stretching before I work out, so here I am, stretchin’ those pecs. The thing is I’m not too fond of stretching, my Gym teacher would say, “strechin’ is for pussies”, hmmmmm…maybe she was right, then again, she got fired for trying to get some student pussy. I continue to stretch. A few feet behind me sits the Spanish janitor. He sits in a corner and just stares at me. He stares at everyone. I guess we all need a hobby. Next to him there’s this old black lady listening to her headphones and singing, “Whoomp there it is!” She’s snapping her fingers and bobbin her head, she loves this God forsaken song and lets everyone know. She’s way too happy. I cut my stretch down to 2 minutes, my gym teacher was right. 5: 07 The gyms packed. I hate it when it’s packed, but that’s the price you pay when you go at 5 pm. I lie on the flat bench and begin my set. Quickly, some guy tells me my shorts are on backwards. And he’s right. My shorts are on backwards. I feel slightly intruded on and stupid, the fucking nerve of this guy. What a dick. And what the hell is he doing looking at my dick, fucking dick. The dick walks away, but luckily he left his energy drink behind. I “accidentally” kick it over and it spills everywhere. I smile for the first time today. I decide to walk to the other side of the gym. Suddenly, I notice the “talker” is here; he’s the guy who talks to whomever will listen. Every gym has one and for some reason these “talker” guys love me. I see him coming and make a quick right turn and then a left, but this fucker is persistent, he chases me, literally. I’m cornered at the cable-pulley machines. There’s no escaping. Self absorbed as ever he rambles on for a good ten minutes about the food poisoning he had last night. I fight to get in these 9 words…really, corn, ouch, baby, wipes, help, please, stop, talking…He hears nothing. Luckily, I know how to deal with this situation. It’s easy; you see I include some unsuspecting victim into the conversation and pawn him off on the talker. I escape. I sit down at a shoulder machine. Directly across from me a woman works the inside of her thighs. She wears tight pants and I now understand what the term “camel toe” means. If there were a heaven this machine would be there and so wouldn’t she. I find myself staring. Damn it. I’m turning into the Spanish Janitor. Quickly, I move. The next 45 minutes are a blur highlighted by…some dickhead talking on his phone while he hogs the incline bench, a gay guy who keeps trying to make eye contact with me, and a heated argument from two meatheads “I have dis bench first bro” “No, no, I have dis bench first bro”! I hope for a fight, but nothing, they make their peace, grab their gallons of water and walk away. Pussies. It’s time for the locker room. I have to piss. This place is my personal hell, it’s ten times worse than the treadmill. I walk into to see a few guys walking around naked and just chatting it up like they don’t have a care in the world. Men should not talk to each other when they’re naked, ever. I find the urinal and piss. Next to me another man pisses. I hate that. I wash my hands in the sink. Promptly some old bastard next to me plops his foot in the sink. He starts scrubbing his knobby old man toes. On my other side some naked man sets his balls in the sink. He trims his pubes. I run. The gym is an evil place, I look forward to the day I can by my own equipment and work out at my house. this is in or around Ballys Santa Monica webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-02-03T20:59:52-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/58338673.html “The Sink Is Not a Place to Wash your BALLS" text The 'Holy Crap We're Moving Saturday And Need To Sell Our Stuff' Sale http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/56062020.html <table width="700" border="0" cellspacing="1" cellpadding="10"> <tr valign="top" bgcolor="#333333"> <td colspan="4" align="left" valign="top"><a name="Furniture"></a>FURNITURE/APPLIANCES</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td width="125" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/fridge/front.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/fridge/thumbs/front.jpg" width="125" height="233" border="0"></a></td> <td width="125" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/fridge/leftside.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/fridge/thumbs/leftside.jpg" width="125" height="238" border="0"></a> </td> <td width="323" align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">Refrigerator Like new. Except that it's full of food. And it's in our kitchen. Cost $700 new. </td> <td width="42" align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$250</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/mattress.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/mattress.jpg" width="125" height="94" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">Queen-Sized Bed (Mattress/Box Spring/Frame) One of the few used mattresses that doesn't come with a free membership to the Disease-of-the-Month club. It's pretty much brand new. No stains, no sagging, no lingering unidentifiable odors.</td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$120</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/officechair.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/officechair.jpg" width="125" height="196" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">Office Chair Wanna look like a big shot, liked Donald Trump? Then you need this chair. And 50 billion dollars. There's a slight split at one of the seams, on the lower right corner. Other than that it's in good shape. </td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$30</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/weightbench.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/weightbench.jpg" width="125" height="94" border="0"></a></td> <td align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/weightbench2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/weightbench2.jpg" width="125" height="94" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">MPEX PowerMax Weight Bench w/ Weights They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I recently learned that the road to being a fat slob is similarly paved. If anyone ever says to you, "Dude, why pay $500 for a gym membership when you can just BUY the weights for that much?" you should punch him in the head. Then explain that your unused gym membership doesn't sit in your garage for 3 years until you have to sell it at a tremendous loss when you decide to move. This is an incline/flat/decline bench that goes from military press upright to bench press flat to decline press decline. It has a leg extension thingy, a bicep curl thingy, and <a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/dildo.jpg" target="_blank">this thingy</a> (if you're into that sort of thing). It also has <a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/dumbbell.jpg" target="_blank">two dumbells</a>, four 2.5 lb. weights, eight 5 lb. weights, and eight 10 lb weights. All the weights are solid metal, not that plastic sand-filled crap. </td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$150</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/cabinet/front.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/cabinet/thumbs/front.jpg" width="125" height="178" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">Really Big Cabinet If this cabinet had running water, we could rent it out as a studio apartment. Technically it's a wardrobe cabinet for a bedroom, but we use it in our kitchen to store dry goods (i.e. Mac & Cheese, Ramen Noodles, and more Mac & Cheese). It has several shelves inside. It's from Ikea. $99 new. </td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$40</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/dresser.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/dresser.jpg" width="125" height="94" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">Shabby Chic Dresser "Shabby chic" means someone paid a bunch of money to take a perfectly good dresser and make it look like it was saved from a fire in an abandoned 18th century farmhouse. That being said, it's actually kind of cool-looking. </td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$40</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/chest.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/chest.jpg" width="125" height="132" border="0"></a> </td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">4-Drawer Dresser I don't know why people call this a "dresser." It hasn't dressed me once in the entire time I've had it. It pretty much just sits there and holds my clothes. </td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$20</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/kitchen_table.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/kitchen_table.jpg" width="100" height="71" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">The Weapon Of Mass Destruction Kitchen Table See that yellow base in the photo? It's made of solid iron. It weighs 14,000 pounds. If you dropped it from a plane, it would take out a small village. The table top is white formica and includes a 12" expansion leaf (not pictured). If you want a kitchen table that can survive a nuclear holocaust, this is the one for you. 6' long x 4' wide (with leaf in)</td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$25</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/chairs.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/chairs.jpg" width="100" height="90" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">These Chairs Are For Lovers Nice oak chairs, practically new. Less than a year old. No, we will not just sell you just one. Make a friend. Cost $40.00 each new (Okay, if you really want just one, you can have it for $10.00.)</td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$20 for both</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/color_table.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/color_table.jpg" width="100" height="98" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">The Lieutenant Dan Table Why is this the "Lieutenant Dan" table? Because, like Lieutentant Dan in Forrest Gump, this table has no legs. Why would you want a table with no legs? Because it looks cool. That's why we got it. It was used in a Budweiser commerical. We were feeling ambitious and planned to put legs on it. Turns out we're not that ambitious. Maybe you are. 5' round</td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$10</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/3lamp.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/3lamp.jpg" width="125" height="167" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">3-Way Lamp Lamp with three adjustable heads to illuminate the three things in your studio apartment worth illuminating. Serial killer hideway plywood wall not included. </td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$10</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top" bgcolor="#4F4F4F"><a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/halogen.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/images/thumbs/halogen.jpg" width="29" height="125" border="0"></a></td> <td align="left" bgcolor="#CCCCCC">The I'm-Not-Afraid-Of-Fire Halogen Lamp This lamp is great for lighting up a room, especially if you drape some silk scarves over it to set the mood. Just don't be upset if your date runs away with a fireman when they come to extinguish the blaze. Three setting: High, Low, and Holy Crap It's Dark In Here.</td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#999999">$10</td> </tr> </table> <h3> LOTS MORE STUFF AT <a href="http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/">http://www.stapleface.com/movingsale/</a></h3>  <table><tr><td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/pY/7m/J4sns15dbyrF6XC87HzQP4eOGYWp.jpg"></td> <td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/wS/Xq/slvi6hw6uFhNSz0M2fNjNvlAefbd.jpg"></td></tr> <tr><td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/WR/ar/GADnApHIeCF5vBsKLye5DOCHwrap.jpg"></td> <td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/K0/VO/dcMtnJ2LmB9hyHWCip8lqwmXVCty.jpg"></td></tr></table>  This item has been posted by-owner. this is in or around Burbank/Glendale webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-01-17T20:36:34-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/56062020.html The 'Holy Crap We're Moving Saturday And Need To Sell Our Stuff' Sale text Never Eat Mexican Food On A Third Date! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/55541310.html Last night I found a great way to test relationship committment levels. I discovered it by accident and think it's something many of you will benefit from. HERE'S WHAT TO DO: 1. Find a girl you really like. 2. Ask her out on a date. 3. Hopefully all goes well and you end up going out on a few more. 4. At some point in time (in my case: Date 3) ask her to pick a restaurant she'd really like to try. 5. You'll probably find yourself at an establishment serving Spicy Mexican food. (A restaurant that looks kind of dicey but has tasty entrees and a cool waitress named, Maria.) 6. After you've finished eating and are back in her apartment settling in, you might feel your stomach start to rumble a little. But don't worry! - It's okay! 7. A few minutes after that, once she's poured two glasses of wine and has turned her Direct Tv to the, "Easy Listening" station, you'll most likely want to move in for a seductive kiss that will hopefully lead to an extensive night of passionate love making. 8. Just as your lips are about to touch, don't be surprised if the rumbling expands and grows extremely uncomfortable. 9. Take this opportunity to excuse yourself and head for the bathroom (conveniently located right off of the living room where you're both sitting on the couch). Feel free to pretend you've injured your back so the leaned-over, "clenched walk" doesn't give anything away! 10. Go into the bathroom and sit down. Apply gentle pressure to your stomach muscles while also squeezing your buttocks tightly so as to avoid embarrassing flatuence. 11. When your bowels decide to suddenly cramp and heave painfully, allow them the freedom to do what they must. 12. You will then emit a large explosion of soiled burrito and bean dip which will splatter noisily against the porcelain sounding like someone's slapping large wet sheets of meat together while blowing soup through them. 13. Refuse any attempts to flush quickly hoping the drain will carry the stench away. (It won't.) 14. CONTINUE releasing. 15. Minutes later, between grunts, when the painful cramping and explosive volcanic gasses are at their peak and you're seriously concerned about all the "splash back" going on below, expect a knock at the door accompanied by the question, "Are you okay?" 16. Reply with, "Yeah...'Sall good." 17. Feel free to turn on the water to try and cover the noise. 18. When finished, (after checking the bowl for blood and cleansing yourself with babywipes she keeps under the sink) straighten yourself up. 19. If there's no air-freshener available, feel free to use hairspray to try and mask the air. 20. Open the door and shut it very quickly behind you. (Be prepared that no matter how hard you try, simple physics dictate that the act of opening and closing the door will invariably cause the nasty scent to stick to you resulting in it being carried back to the couch with you like a big brown magnetic poisonous cloud.) 21. PAY THE STENCH NO MIND! 22. Sit down next to her and make some flattering compliment like, "Where'd you get that cool shower curtain?" 23. Then resume moving in for the KISS... 24. If she kisses you back, you've found a girl who'll love you forever. Congratulations! 25. But if, instead, she suddenly decides, "It's getting kinda late..." and walks you to door, don't give up hope! 26. Go home. Wait patiently. 27. Check her blog the next day. 28. If she's posted an entry titled: MY BIG SHITTY DATE!, and used phrases like, 1. It's going to take a week to air out!, 2. I almost called an ambulence! and 3. The fucking guy had SWAMP-ASS!, chances are pretty good she's not the one for you. 29. Bitch. 30. Next time order something with lots of cheese. Feel free to use this helpful test with anyone you think you might have a potential future with. this is in or around Los Angeles webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-01-13T13:11:11-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/55541310.html Never Eat Mexican Food On A Third Date! text I AM THE WORLD'S WORST LESBIAN http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/55453552.html It's true. I don't do anything like a normal feminist lesbian would. And I AM A FEMINIST LESBIAN. First: I like men. I like men so much it's pathetic. I like how they smell. I like how they feel when they're next to you. I like how SIMPLE THEY ARE. And I don't mean dumb, but guys are so not complicated. GUYS SEE BOOBS AND GET EXCITED. That's what I mean by simple. Women see a naked guy and think: 1: He's cute. 2: Do I want him to be the father of my children? 3: Could I spend the rest of my life with him? 4: I wonder how much a wedding costs these days. 5: I need to get Modern Brides Magazine. 6: I forgot what I was doing before this. 7: Huh, well, I'm sure it wasn't important. Secondly: I love other people's children. I love to hold them and play with them. I love to find fun gifts for them. When my gay wife and I were at a fancy restaurant once, this couple came in with a one year old, and you would've thought they had leprosy. When they sat next to us, they said, "Sorry." And we said, "Are you kidding? We love kids!" We proceeded to engage him our whole meal. The other thing is, there is something about my gay partner that BABIES AND CHILDREN LOVE. I am not kidding. Time and time again she walks into a room filled with people and in about two minutes. children have gravitated toward her. I have seen children toddle across a crowded restaurant, their arms outstretched, toward her. They are never disappointed when they arrive. They are swept up and doted on. Third: I love my Christian neighbors. We live across the street from a religious seminary and the entire neighborhood is dense with Christians. We happen to live with them on all sides. They have been very kind to us, helping us out with yard work when my partner was gone 24/7 for the first 6 weeks after 9/11 (she's a federal agent with the FAA). We have helped them out by securing free tickets to Disney and the Universal Tour, or finding "chores" we need done that we can oay the kids to do. Our neighbors on the other side, when I moved in, Raffi, the husband, who owns a window cleaning business, came over and cleaned our windows for FREE. They are Armenian, and his parents live with them. I know they think we will end up in hell, but they have NEVER preached to us or treated us with anything but kindness and respect. Recently, we surprised his three little kids with brand new bicycles outside their Jesus Manger on Christmas morning. Raffi had had a very hard year financially, and the kids Christmas was going to be lean. J woke me up at 6 am yelling: They're up! And we snuck outside, put the bikes by the manger then ran back and turned on the video camera. I then spent 2 hours running my fat ass up and down the sidewalk as they learned to ride. On New Year's Eve, Raffi's wife and smallest child brought a tart over that clearly said: To J and C, Love, Raffi and Family. We love them. They love us. Fourth: I love the Howard Stern Show. I think he's funny. And when I don't like what he's saying, or when it gets too dumb, I CHANGE THE STATION. Yeah, weird how easy that is. I had been a fan for years when a star I was working with was on as a guest. I had told this star, BEFORE he went on: DO NOT TELL HIM I'M A LESBIAN. Because the first thing he will say is: "Is she hot?" And I know the answer. And it's not one you want to hear on national radio. But, sure enough, said star OUTTED ME. ON NATIONAL RADIO. He mentioned my name and then said: "She doesn't like men." Howard said: You mean she's a lesbian?" Star: "Yeah." Howard: "Well that doesn't mean she doesn't like men. And then he said, "Let's just change the subject, she probably doesn't want to be outted on national radio." Fifth: I am a staunch old school feminist who was raised with brothers and I believe men have been getting as raw a deal as women in the last ten years. Here's why: There is this very polarizing ideology of feminism which is not about EQUALITY but about: WOMEN ARE BETTER THAN MEN. Women talk like this all the time. Like about how dumb men are and how the female way of approaching problems and feelings is superior to the male model. I mean, this is ridiculous and insulting. I have brothers. They have feelings. They are both very smart. The difference between men and women is BIOLOGICAL. It has nothing to do with being smarter or dumber, it is about two different brains that contain two very different hormones and how those hormones drive thought and behavior. THESE chemicals and biological drives were wired that way for a reason. Long before we became agrarian, God, or Evolution, created really muscle-y hunters who could defend against attacks on the family and who NEEDED TO MATE EARLY AND OFTEN to ensure that the species did not die out. Hence: Testosterone. It makes men strong, fast, and loaded for bear. It also makes them very visual. They need to be able to pick out the best of the females in order to have the strongest offspring. So: BOOBS=ERECTION. WOMEN on the other hand, needed to BOND with their baby, and IN ORDER FOR HER TO SURVIVE, she needed to stay with one mate, who would care for her and their baby. IN THE WILD, WHEN A FEMALE APE'S MATE DIES, THE NEW MATE OFTEN KILLS THE OLD MATE'S OFFSPRING. So, there is no advantage for women to change partners. They are biologically wired for monogamy. Hence: Estrogen. Now, I believe in the same way we have created entire systems for honoring the female path, we need to learn some kind of respect for the male model. I've been able to do it and I'm an angry feminist dyke, surely other women can find a way (see number one above). And, if you are not yet convinced, let me say this one last thing in defense of men: No, they don't talk about their feelings very much, but they work, and bring home paychecks, and love their kids. I have a gay wife, and I have a mother who lives nearby, and I am responsible for seeing that they have enough money to pay bills. I don't mind this. I make a great deal of money. My partner does work, but I like for her to have extras. With my mother, I am expected to climb on the roof in the pounding rain if there is a leak in her roof. I pay her mortgage, any and all repairs, her utilities and handle any and all electronics breakdowns and hookups. In the last year I came to the realization that I am apparently the guy. And it gave me a new respect for how so many men do these things and never really say anything. Finally, let me say, in all the mudslides in California, in a number of instances, men, passing by, jumped into a barreling mudslide/raging floodwaters to snatch children out of the jaws of certain death. I'm not saying women WOULDN'T do this, but I am saying, MEN CAN. One father dug and dug desperately thinking he could clear tons of earth and reach his family. Again, not that a woman wouldn't, but don't tell me men are dumb and can't express their feelings. That's my rant for today. I am lucky that I love both men and women, life is so much better with both of them. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-01-12T19:54:06-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/55453552.html I AM THE WORLD'S WORST LESBIAN text ANTS RANT! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/55389740.html I noticed a couple of days ago that I was being host to some ants during all the rain. The poor guys were just trying to keep dry... SO I set out some nice motels for them thinking they'd enjoy that. Hmmm, apparently they enjoyed it so much that while I was at work yesterday (I worked a night shift) they called 1,000,000,000 of their bestest friends. I came home from work at 9 AM to find a closely knit trail about 10 ants wide leading from my kitchen door to the recycling, then by the washing machine, the kitchen sink, across the kitchen, by the fridge, up the fridge, down the fridge, across the kitchen, up the cabinet, into the silverware drawer, out of the silverware drawer, down the cabinet, into the hallway, ALL THE WAY DOWN THE HALLWAY (which is about 100 feet long), into the bathroom, onto my bathroom cabinet, off of the cabinet, under the scale, around the tub, to the toilet, and back out into the hallway, across the kitchen, and out the door again. What I don't get is that there was no food for them anywhere, other than those godforsaken hourly rate motels. I have become a total neat freak lately and my slovenly roommate has been out of town for 3 weeks, so the whole house is immaculate (yes, I checked his bedroom and there is no "food trash," just a Mount Everest of Laundry). I have not used the motel thingies before but surely the point cannot be to bring all the ants in Los Angeles into my house and THEN kill them ("you will see fewer ants in about 1-2 weeks"). And by "fewer" we mean fewer than the population of China, but many, many more than were in your house and drove you to purchase Ant Motels in the first place. Whew. Basically, my house was filled with approximately a gadzillion bazillion trazillion ants... Just what I want to see after a grueling 15 hour overnight spree at work... So I decided Fuck this Motel Shite, I'm going postal. I pulled out a can of Ant Raid and sprayed everything. (I put my dog in the bedroom first to spare her the sight (and potential toxicity) of Mommy Losing Her Shit and spraying Ant Killer everywhere). I had to wash every motherfucking thing in the silverware drawer, which allowed me to notice that I have way too many spoons, and practically no knives. Where did all the knives go? I probably started out with a set of 8 spoons, 8 forks, and 8 knives. Well now I have 3 knives, 8 forks, and 18 spoons. WTF? Where are all these spoons coming from? Also, I had a bunch of those little drink umbrellas bought when I moved to LA last summer in the hopes that I'd have a bunch of girlfriends who like drinks with umbrellas rather than a bunch of guy friends who drink beer. Well, you can't put pink umbrellas in beer and they were all covered in ants so I had to throw them away and now my fancy drink dreams are completely shattered.  <table><tr><td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/RN/NQ/9vUeo4Hhc60gCWQ0SmWHcvXLwp45.jpg"></td> <td align=center> </td></tr> <tr><td align=center> </td> <td align=center> </td></tr></table>  this is in or around Echo Park webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-01-12T11:26:51-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/55389740.html ANTS RANT! text She shit on my dog!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/54448579.html I came home from work today and walked into the kitchen and noticed some brown streaky stains on the tile. Being the neat freak that I am I bent over to have a better look, that's when it hit me. Mud doesn't have hair in it. Upon closer inspection in became readily apparent that it was shit, not just any shit but nasty brown shit. Now where could this have come from? Who would track shit across my tile? My first thought was my dog. He wasn't supposed to be in the house but maybe he got in, had some shit on his paw from the backyard and tracked it across the floor. So I go looking, around the corner in the laundry room is more shit, on the floor, on the wall, on my laundry basket. I follow it back towards my office, more shit stains on the floor. As I reach the office I can see shit on the white carpet leading back towards my desk. As I bend down I hear my dog whimpering. This is getting really weird now. He's under the desk and wont come out. I have to pull him out by his collar. As he is coming out the smell hits me. Shit, nasty I ate taco bell kind of shit, and he's covered in it!@ What the fuck is going on here? How could he have been covered in shit? How could he cover himself in shit? Rolled in it? Fell in it? What. So I'm pissed. Washing the dog, washing the house, everything. An hour later I'm sitting on the couch with my newly washed and obviously relived dog and I see a note on the coffee table. It's from Julie, my girlfriend. It reads. Kevin, went out back to see what the dog was barking at, stepped in his shit on the side walk and slipped and fell in it. I was so mad I went in the house, shit in a paper plate, and rubbed it all over him. Have fun cleaning it up fucker. You and your fucking dog can go to hell. Julie this is in or around Gardena webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-01-04T15:43:27-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/54448579.html She shit on my dog!! text How To Respond To An Ad... (Particularly Mine)... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/54355298.html In posting several ads over the last few months, I've come to expect several things from men around Los Angeles. These are my qualms with your responses to my ads: <ul><li>Oh, how sweet! You recently moved to Los Angeles to become a writer/actor. So does that mean I get a discount during your shift at Starbucks? Awesome! You say you just moved here with your band to work on your music? Don't ask if you can move in with me and/or if your guitar-playing cousin can sleep on my couch until after our third date, okay? <li>Say something more than "Hey girl how u doin? Got a pic?" Well, yes, I'm doing just great and I do have a picture. I included it in my ad. Were you just so mesmerized by my words that you neglected to see it? I hope so. <li>Speaking of my picture... Yes, I'm well aware that my chest isn't small. No, I will not show my breasts to you on the first date. That requires more alcohol than you can afford on your meager Starbucks paycheck, buddy. <li>If I ask that you be between the ages of 24 and 30, then that means your birthdate should fall between January 3rd, 1981 and January 3rd, 1975... I'm willing to stretch a few months, but a few years or decades? No dice. <li>When I ask for a picture, I don't mean one of your penis. I've seen plenty of those... and by plenty I mean way more than I'd like to (sent to me by a plethora of generous CL'ers responding to past ads). My gay male friends thank you... my sex drive does not, though. I want to see your face... particularly your eyes. Some of you guys happen to have very nice washboard abs, but your eyes give me that whole "creepy serial killer" or "crazy cokehead" vibe. And quite frankly, I don't dig that. <li>Don't send me a well-angled shot that uses light, shadows and Photoshop to rid you of that triple chin and the huge mole that it would take a few weeks of exercise and paying a plastic surgeon a whole $150 to permenantly remove (rather than just a few clicks of a mouse to hide it until I meet you). <li>Tell me about you. No, I don't want to know about the generic "you" that you think you need to be. I want to know more about YOU. None of that bullshit about you being "funny, confident, smart and cute" and don't tell me that you "like to party" and "hang" with your "homies"... I don't give a fuck. If there's no substance to your personality and you don't do anything worthwhile in your spare time other than drinking your brain cells into oblivion, don't bother writing to me. I can go to a bar and get hit on by those types of guys (and they'd actually ply me with alcohol to get me to believe their bullshit... all you're doing is spending two minutes typing an email!). <li>Which brings me to my next point... just emailing me with your phone number and a cute pickup line? Please don't bother. Again, I can go to a bar and get that. Don't waste our time. <li>If I ask that you be taller than me and I tell you that I'm 5'6"? This means that you should be 5'7" or taller. Not 5'5" or 5'6"... 5'7" or above. Remember when you were 9 and your older brother used to fight with you over who was taller and there was only a 0.5" discrepancy? That half of an inch doesn't cut it as adults, kiddo. <li>If I ask that you have a lot in common with me, this does NOT mean that you: - think Aqua Teen Hunger Force is hilarious (but only when you're stoned) - think Boondock Saints was great (but only because there were lots of gunfights) - think one of your friends might have a Nine Inch Nails CD somewhere - went camping once when you were ten - know how to use a computer It means that you: - enjoy watching the same types of movies/television I do - listen to the same types of music that I do - enjoy doing the same sorts of things I do - are geeky/nerdy (you had an iPod before everyone else in your office and you know how to reformat your hard drive) <li>When I ask that you have a job, it means that you are paid enough to not be way over your head in debt. I don't want to pay for your Social Distortion ticket or for our last-minute trip to Vegas next weekend. I'm more than happy to pick up MY half of the expenses and even treat you to a lapdance at the stripclub now and then, but constantly covering your broke ass? Not even going to happen, so don't even think about it. <li>When I ask that you live on your own, I mean that you: - don't live with your parents - don't share a three bedroom house with four of your buddies and one of their girlfriends - don't live with your ex (because it's convenient) - don't share an open loft with your best friend from college <li>I do drink. I like drinking. I don't like blacking out in strange places. I also don't like crashing my car into a wall or getting a DUI on my record. So, when I thank you for the offer of a beer but order a water, because I'm driving home? Don't get upset. <li>When I say no drugs, I mean NO DRUGS. This includes marijuana. Why? Well, let's put it this way... Say things work out between the two of us and we end up in a relationship. I spend the night over your house one night. Your house smells like weed because you smoke it in the living room and your bedroom. I end up smelling like pot because I was sitting on your couch playing X-Box with you and then I slept in your bed with you. How does this work? Marijuana smoke seeps into fibers and hair. My backpack, with my clothes for work the next day, was sitting in your living room that consistently reeks of smoke from your bong and/or pipe. My hair? It's really long and with the complexities of hair... yeah well, you ever smell your hair after you've been around a potsmoker? Not a pleasant smell (unless you like that skanky weed smell, that is). Because of my decision to spend the night at your house and because washing my hair takes forever (so, I don't do it at other people's houses unless I absolutely HAVE to) I'm stuck walking into the office, where I work at my awesome job, smelling like marijuana. I get weird shifty looks from management. I don't like weird shifty looks from management. Why? BECAUSE I HAVE AN AWESOME JOB. I'd like to keep my awesome job. So... I don't hang out with potheads. And all other drugs suck because they make you do stupid shit and say stupid things. And I am all about avoiding stupidity. As far as prescription medications go... if you're on prozac or lithium or valium or xanax... you don't need to talk to me... you need to talk to your therapist. <li>If I ask that you not have kids and/or psycho ex-girlfriends, I mean it. No stalkers, no drama, no rugrats, no further explanation needed. <li>When I say that I'm not skinny, this does not mean that I am fat. Quite the contrary! It just means that I do not live up to the heroin-chic standards that most males in Los Angeles have placed upon the females in Los Angeles. I like to cook, I don't give a fuck about the caloric content about the food going into my mouth and I do not go to a gym obsessively. I have better things to worry about and more interesting ways to spend my time. I am quite active and enjoy being outdoors, but I am not going to waste my spare time running in place like a hamster on a wheel, thankyouverymuch! <li>Please use spell check if you don't know how to spell simple words (or better yet, just don't email me... I like guys with an IQ higher than their shoe size and that actually managed to graduate high school). And for the love of my eyesight... please don't make use of caps lock. We're not in a bar, so there's no need to shout. <li>Yes, I enjoy sex. No, you won't be getting laid on our first, second, or even third date. Why? Well, there's two reasons: 1. I have self-respect and I value my self-worth. 2. I posted my ad in the proper place, and NOT in "Casual Encounters"... since I'm not looking for a casual encounter. I'm looking for SOMETHING MORE... as in something that may turn into a long-term relationship. </ul> These are just a few suggestions to make our lives much simpler and more fluid. I'm not asking much... just for you to learn to read above a third grade level and be able to follow instructions, that's all! (By the way, from the responses I'm getting... I'm feeling inclined to ask you to please vote for this on Best of Craigslist if it made you laugh or you found any of it to be true... thanks!) this is in or around Los Angeles webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-01-03T23:06:31-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/54355298.html How To Respond To An Ad... (Particularly Mine)... text Haikudos: you caused a 5-car pileup on the 5! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/53375951.html What on earth, jackhole? What made you slam on your brakes? It was too crowded Cruising on the 5 Suddenly, people swerving Into the grass knoll They were quite lucky It would have been seven cars Without the bail-outs Slamming on the brakes The minivan looms closer To my front bumper I thought I had it Until the pickup hit me My wagon was shoved Under the van, me Crunching hood and engine parts Inauspicious smoke My car was now stuck Wedged under the back bumper Of the minivan The other three cars Were actually driveable How I envy them! My car, not running Smoke, fluid and engine parts Littering the 5 The van dragged me off At the cop's bullhorned request The cars then parted Oh dear, my poor car Hood peeled like a sardine can Engine smashed to bits What started this wreck? In the post-pileup madness I forgot to ask The 5 was crowded A caravan of drivers Following nicely At the speed limit We cruised merrily along Frowning at big rigs But no, you blew it Did a semi cut you off To pass a slow dude? Well gee, thanks a lot For your overreaction I'm left without wheels The tow truck took me To a BFE Denny's To wait for a ride It's not every day That a smashed car shows up there On a huge towtruck I made quite a sight Extracting presents and stuff My CD's, my clothes I realized later That I forgot my Fastrak Dammit, I need that Next time, I'll just fly To avoid people like you I'll get free peanuts this is in or around The Fourth Car webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-12-24T13:37:56-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/53375951.html Haikudos: you caused a 5-car pileup on the 5! text Are you bad in the sack? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/51400320.html I am now going to approach dating in a scientific manner. So far my dating exploits have included men who claim to be the best in bed. Unfortunately, I've found that men who think they are good in bed are good at getting right to their own orgasms and biting things that should never even be tongued (like the eyebrow.) So, I am looking for guys who admit they are bad in the sack. This is the Michael Jackson approach to dating where bad is the new good. You say you can make me cum five times in an hour? Not interested. You say your dick is more on target for the gspot than the Olympic Archery team. No can do. You say your tongue is more powerful than a plug in vibrator. Sorry buddy. I want the guy who needs at least two girls to get a boner. I need the guy who doesn't know how to put the condom on. I'd like the guy who thinks the Gspot is a club on Sunset. I'm going to date the guy who actually thinks that the ears are two more inputs. An added bonus would be if you like indie rock or electroclash, but I'll venture to guess that the guy who knows he's bad in bed is waiting for a Slaughter reunion tour. And that's the guy I want to date.  <table><tr><td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/7i/wy/Cg4NN4aEy1QVBYwMviuROUr5qaxC.jpg"></td> <td align=center> </td></tr> <tr><td align=center> </td> <td align=center> </td></tr></table>  this is in or around in LA webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-12-06T14:04:43-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/51400320.html Are you bad in the sack? text Rant: What's up with the parade of cocks? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/50302587.html What the fuck is up with the parade of cocks on this website. It's almost a guarantee that if you click on anything with the "pic" icon that some gnarly, hairy, veiny cock is going to spring up in your face. It's like a fucked-up digitally obscene version of a jack-in-the-box. It scares the shit out of me every time. "Pop goes the mother-fucking weasel" Has anyone ever had any success with this technique of posting your cock to the web? I'm still thinking it's probably a little too anonymous to score a date with just a snapshot of your dick. Most women strike me as being concerned with a little more than that if they are going to meet you for sex--after all they probably don't want to walk in on the acne-ridden Grand Sorcerer of the local D&D tournament--even if he is hung like a bear. Even worse than a potentially squidly face attached to some three-legged freak is the fact that it just seems so serial killer to be doing this. They'll probably add it to the list; harms animals, check. Surreptitiously harasses women, check. Photographs cock next to a provolone and posts to Craig's, check. It's fucking scary. What makes anybody think this is a good idea? Even more comical is a dude that's trying to pick up women posting a picture of him shooting cum into another woman's mouth or onto another woman's stomach. Most women wouldn't even consider dating a dude that would post a picture with his arm around another women, much less some dude only willing to show his anonymous cock shooting man-yogurt all over some other chick's tattooed ass. You're a hopeless romantic, Romeo. Good luck jerking yourself to sleep tonight, and every other night, for the rest of your miserable life--you mongoloid idiot! I also like the fact that the more bizarre and obscene the size of the schlong the more likely they are to include common household items to help the viewer determine the size and girth on comparative scale. NEWSFLASH when you photograph your cock next to a can of Budweiser it forever brands Budweiser in my mind as something I never want to go near again. Please don’t do this as you are now narrowing my purchasing patterns. This could turn into a potential industry where advertisers pay the cocksmen of CL top dollar to photograph their ugly peckers adjacent to their competitor's products. I could see American Express picking up some cock photography and turning the balls red and orange to turn people away from MasterCard forever. Or I could envision Verizon hiring five cocks (of varying sizes) and arranging them neatly to look like the AT&T wireless coverage bars all stacked up. Or better yet Reebok can hire somebody with a twisted schween, photograph it on a stark, monochromatic background and emblazon it with a Nike logo and the "just fuck it" tagline. A billion dollar industry built on the postings of this fucked up website (which I love so much--sorry Craig) We could even go a step further. We could print off thousands of pages of these scary monster cocks and drop them into Fallujah. I'm sure the Iraqis will be cackling so hard that by the time the allied forces invade their city they'll just drop their weapons, point at the invading forces crotches, and burst their appendix with laughter. General: "Was the offensive a success" Captain: "Sir, yes sir! Operation Desert Kielbasa was a huge success--a strategic coup worthy of historical study for decades to come at West Point and Annapolis. To call it an offensive is an understatement, Sir!" All I'm saying is that this needs to stop. This fucking site has more wood than an industrial arts class. Leave your pecker in your pants and off my fucking computer screen. Guys that photograph their cocks and post them for all the world to see are pretty clearly regarded to be the types of guys that couldn't get laid in a whorehouse with a fist full of hundred dollar bills. Your cocks speak volumes. On a final note; as for the gratuitous "rate my boobs" postings...well, those are just fine. We need a lot more of that going on around here. Thank you and goodnight this is in or around Mission Viejo webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-11-26T23:02:59-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/50302587.html Rant: What's up with the parade of cocks? text Shower Head http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/49330034.html One of the few perks of moving into an old, rundown apartment is that the showerheads aren't typically corrupted by the 'low-flo' craze of the mid 90s. The first shower in my new apartment was like a tropical rain. The showerhead was gigantic. Crystal clear water poured down like a warm waterfall somewhere in Fiji. Then my knuckleheaded roommate decided it was an eyesore (much like the rest of the apartment) and needed to be replaced with a big, shiny, low flow vegetable steamer. The replacement took place without warning and my tropical sunflower was dumpsered in my absence. What a jackass. The luxury of getting in and out of the shower in less than 10 minutes was gone. Instead, I was forced to either stand there like a moron or run in circles and try to get wet. It sucked. I tried to replace my beloved showerhead, but alas, the environmental nuts in California have put the kibosh on stores selling what I needed. Mornings are a bad time for me and last Monday I found myself on the bathroom floor, yanking this low flow bastard apart. I figured out that there was a restricter plate in it, only allowing a small stream of water through. I brought it to work with me that day and had one of the engineers bore the fucker out with a drill press to about 4X the original size. The rest of the workday was spent muttering "My precious" and laughing maniacally. At the end of the day I raced home to install my little creation. Pants down, in the shower, water on, here we go. Wow. Have you ever seen footage of riot police blowing a person down the street with a fire hose? Imagine that guy with no police and no street. In a 3' X 6' shower. It hurt a lot. In my pursuit of the Tropical Rain, I have inadvertently converted my harmless showerhead into the Commando 450. (Seinfeld episode #126) I guess the upside is the shower tiles have been hydro-blasted clean. The downside is coming to work with red skin and a concussion. this is in or around -sb- webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-11-17T12:34:41-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/49330034.html Shower Head text John Goodman and a Parking Garage Kicked My Ass http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/49305052.html I had a horrible birthday. A birthday so horrible, only I could produce it. Not to be dramatic or anything. My day was going along just fine. I got some presents, I got some cards, I got some free lunch. I even got a banana cream pie (complete with a whole banana stuck, penis-like, right in the middle with two cherries underneath because I guess my reputation as a pervert has gotten out). All in all, it was a pretty good birthday, until 4:00 pm. Before you read this story, I just want you to know that I was not drunk when The Incident happened. I got shit-faced after The Incident, but when it all went down I was not drunk. So let the record show that. Because the brakes on my car decided to go out ever so fortuitously the day before my birthday, I was borrowing my friend's boyfriend's Jeep Liberty (let me add, brand new) to go to the gym. I couldn't find any parking on the street, so I decided to park in the parking garage down the street. This decision will be known from here on out as Big Freakin' Mistake. My friend is a snowboarder, so strapped on top of his brand new Jeep Liberty were some brand new snowboards and a brand new tule rack. I didn't feel the need to think of the roof of the car, however, as I completely ignored the clearance sign on the overhead pillar of the garage and blissfully drove in. (Most likely you can see where this story is going. Too bad I couldn't.) No, I just drove in at a nice clip, down the little ramp under the overhang and...stopped short, wheels spinning, a sickening cracking sound reverberating through the garage. For good measure, I tried to go forward again, you know, just to make sure that the car was completely lodged under the overhang, wedged nice and tight. Cue more sickening cracking sounds. Horrible story short, Triple A ended up having to let the air out of all the tires in order to unwedge the car. Yep, when I fuck up, I go all out. I crack snowboards, I scratch tules, I break the seals on sun roofs, I deflate tires, I piss off friends. I'm thorough like that. Let's just say my friend hates me, her boyfriend hates me even more, and my dad hates me to infinity and beyond. You can't blame me for getting gutter-drunk last night. I am so hungover, I'm surprised my head is still attached to my body. At some point last night, as I was crawling on my hands and knees to the bathroom and promising all the deities known to man that I would never drink again and claiming "this time I really, really promise I mean it," I swear I puked my head right off my body. That sounds really disgusting in the light of day, but that's how it felt at 3 am. I made the mistake of challenging a big fat man to a tequila shot-off. Boy did I get served. My ass was handed to me and it had been sufficiently violated. Being drunk can sometimes be like an out-of-body experience. Your sane, normal self floats above your drunken foolish ass, observing the shenanigans in silent horror. My temperate self was stuck in a pose similar to The Scream by Edvard Munch, as my boozy self challenged a man who looked suspiciously like John Goodman to a drinking contest. I distinctly remember my sober side mouthing, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING." Needless to say, I will never drink again. Okay, I'll never drink tequila again. All right, I'll never drink A LOT of tequila again. Fine. I'll never challenge John Goodman to a drinking contest again. For a couple of months anyway, since that will be about how long it will take me to stop being hungover. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-11-17T09:47:30-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/49305052.html John Goodman and a Parking Garage Kicked My Ass text The top 10 most annoying customers in Denny's at 3am http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/49145515.html Yes, you all know me. you may not specifically remember my face because you and your friends were shit faced drunk. I am your Denny's Waitress. The one you hit on at 3am after the bars closed. I normally work 10pm-6am, friday-tuesday. There are certain types of people I see in my work. If you are one of them, please, go to Jack in the Box. So here we go. 10. THE HOOKER- Yes dear, I know you are a hooker, You work a hard job, So do I. Yes I am polite to you, mostly out of fear of a crackheaded rage. But when i have 9 tables, of possibly tipping customers, I do not want to drop everything to make you a strawberry shake to get that cum taste out of your mouth. Please, just wait, like everyone else. 9. THE FRAT BOYS- Yes I know I look good. Thanks. But please, I don't like being hit on by a group of drunk guys in a bar, I do not like being hit on by a group of drunk guys at my work. I WILL NOT give you my phone number. If you are really that interested, leave a big tip, and your number, perhaps I will call you. More then likely, I will not. 8. NO HABLA INGLES- Ok please, learn the basic skills needed to order your food. I don't speak spanish very well, and i hate having to grab the bus boy to translate. Anyone who has ever been to california, knows these people. When asked what they would like to order, they point to the picture. "Ok and how would you like your eggs?" to this i get a puzzled look, much conversing in a foreign tongue, then more pointing to the picture. This same response to the questions as to how you would like your toast, steak, etc... Please, learn to speak english, or bring someone who does. And lastly, don't act like I'm the idiot for not speaking spanish. 7. THE HOLIER-THAN-THOU GROUP - Ok, so technically I am a server. read SERVER, not servant. Where the hell do you get off talking down to me you drunk prick? Yes I will be nice to you, I will get your food in a timely manner, and keep your coffee full. But please, do not talk down to me as if i am human excrement. I work don't I? And please understand that all things in the universe are not in my control. ok you ordered your steak medium rare.(why are you eating a dennys steak) I do not cook the steaks. I can not bite into each one to check it's exact condition inside. If it is not exactly right, please tell me, politely. do not scream " You stupid insolate whore, i said Medium rare, can't you remeber that, or are you too stupid." This will not get a kindly reaction from myself, and you will wait 30 minutes for a new steak, which will be extremely well done. You don't know me, I don't know you, You might be better then me, probably not. You are an asshole. 6. THE LOUD DRUNK GIRLS- Yes you ladies, I know you had a great time in the bar, as i can hear every word you say. Glad to hear the fake id's worked, but you do not look older with 3 pounds of makeup and one ounce of clothing. I don't mind that you all give me evil looks, I'm hot. Sorry i can't help it I was born this way. I see the looks as you guzzle down your french vanilla cappuccino, and all share one salad. But ladies ahem..girls. I am one of you, why treat me with such hostility, fortunately at least one of you is a waitress, and you usually leave a decent tip. 5. THE HOMELESS GUY- Yes I let you sit in here. you aren't dirty and don't smell...too much. I will give you free coffee, and do my best to sneak you some food. But I am busy. I do not want to sit and listen to you droll on about how in 1972 you had a house and a wife and you lost it all. You've told me, I'm sorry, I'm doing my best to help you out a little, why don't you get your ass a job, and complain to them. 4. THE RICH ROMANIAN GUYS- Yes you are all very good looking, and polite. But please, stop telling me how much money you have. Also, this is not burger king, we don't make it your way. The options we give you are listed, want seasoned fries, great, can't eat tomatos, alright. But when you order your decaf coffe with a shot of vanilla, water, with lemon. Club sandwich with no tomato, no mayo, extra mustard, add swiss cheese, ham instead of turkey, on rye bread, no fries but a side of sliced banana's, this is a little much guys. Come on, make it at home. After all this, which i finish with a smile on my face, you leave me $3.00 hop in your beemers and escalades and drive away. THANKS PRICKS! 3. THE CREEPY OLD GUYS- Yeah you two. You're pushing 60, do not act like you are 20. I am not on the menu, please stop asking, when I ask youif there is anything else i can get you don't say " I'd like you on a plate" After 60 years i'd think you guys could come up with something better. I am a waitress, not a Hooker. I will not let you smell my pussy for $20 dollars, I will not let your friend fuck me for $200. I do not care that you are "special forces" The giant gut really must help for all the covert ops. If you want a hooker, one will be here soon, buy her a strawberry shake, and she's yours. 2. THE OLD MEXICAN LADIES- so when did you ladies buy those outfits? when you were 20? guess what THEY DON'T FIT. They are too small and you are too large. The bright red shiny tight skirt does not make your ass look good, nothing could make your ass look good, a trash bag perhaps. The bottle of cheap perfume you put on this morning does not make you sexy, it makes you smell, bad. No one wants to see your boobs, no matter how many push up-bras, bottles of glue, and rolls of duct-tape it took to get them above your belly button. You all are loud and drunk, and obviously you do not like coffee by the massive amount of creamer and sugar you put in. I mean really ladies, 9 creamers and 12 packets of sugar for one fucking cup of coffee?!? The sooner you realize that you are not 24, get your fat ass in a moomoo, and get the hell out of my restaurant, the sooner the world will be a better place. 1. THE LARGE CHEAP PARTY- Yes you earn number one. You come sauntering in at 2:45am and announce that you have a party of 14, maybe more. ok, we do not have a table for 14, we will have to spread you in part of the restaurant. you will all be together, just not at the same table. You bitch and moan, but hey we only have booths, they don't move. so ten of you sit. I get your drinks, but then there is 1 more, i get this drink, and so on. then When it is time to order, are you polite enough to go in the order in which you are sitting? Hell no. Will your party quiet down so i can actually hear you? Fuck no. after everyone orders will 3 of you change your mind? But of course. Ok. 14 different meals...got it. Time to carry them out, as you may know 14 meals will not fit on one tray, so yes i have people carrying more, but Alas, that is still not enough. So while i am setting down your plates you all continue to cry " Where is my Toast, where are my nachos, I need ketchup, etc" Hold the Fuck on, i got 5 trays, and 2 hands. so "Is there anything i an get for you?" a glass of water replies one customer, "Ok, anything else for the rest of you?" no answer, so i scurry off, and get the water. "Anything else?" I ask upon my return. More napkins, once again i run to get napkins. this process goes on and on. Ask for it all at once dammit! ok time to pay. You all want seperate checks... can you not figure out he approximate price of your meal on your own? Are you all that stupid? of course you are. After all of my efforts,there $200 dollar check divided, and many thanks for the great service, what do I receive for my efforts?!? $8 dollars. $8 Fucking dollars. You've got to be fucking kidding me! THATS LIKE 3% YOU ASSHOLES All of these people are actually customers that i deal with on a regular basis, they are not fictional, although i wish many of them were. Please folks when dining out remember, we are not servants, nor are we hookers, we will not date you,tipping is 15-20%, we do not make your food, but if you are rude we will not hesitate to spit in it. P.S. To the psycho bitch that followed me after i left work, come in me restaurant again, I will kill you, slowly. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-11-16T02:21:03-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/49145515.html The top 10 most annoying customers in Denny's at 3am text Your Beverly Hills Mansion for my Van Nuys house http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/48570860.html House Swap. Your big and roomy Beverly Hills Mansion for my quaint Van Nuys ranch. Details: 3 bedroom, 2 bathrooms, garage, backyard with badmitton net and lemon tree. Close proximity to the famed Van Nuys Blvd and 99 Cent Store. Friendly neighbors. Ever wanted to feel what it's like to be lower middle class? Ever heard of Van Nuys but never even been there? Now's your chance! If you're a rich studio exec with a trophy wife, expensive sports car, and Beverly Hills Mansion, but you're still not satisfied with your life... why not try Van Nuys? You won't regret it.  <table><tr><td align=center><img src="http://b.im.craigslist.org/Qq/XQ/Lw3Q0llFYBisQX3wy1CsW7ddpoAf.jpg"></td> <td align=center> </td></tr> <tr><td align=center> </td> <td align=center> </td></tr></table>  this is in or around Van Nuys webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-11-10T18:21:03-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/48570860.html Your Beverly Hills Mansion for my Van Nuys house text “I owe Craigslist my life!” http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/48212443.html “I owe Craigslist my life!” As crazy as this sounds, my husband has built his life through Craigslist. He moved to Los Angeles about a year and a half ago from New Zealand (Why? I wonder the same thing…). When he came to America, in pursuit of the America Dream, he was broke and homeless. One auspicious day, a stranger let him in on a little secret -Craigslist! Thus began his new life… Through his animal instincts, he first used Craigslist to find shelter. After finding the perfect Hollywood apartment, he needed money (being an immigrant, the landlady wanted a $5000 deposit). Naturally, he searched the jobs section of Craigslist. Unfortunately, after trying to complete the jobs, he was still a couple thousand dollars short. Again, he went to Craigslist for help. Even though the apartment wasn’t his yet, he decided to advertise for roommates on Craigslist and use their first month’s rent for the rest of the deposit. When potential roommates came to see the place, he described it to them from the sidewalk outside of the apartment complex. Amazingly enough, he was able to find enough people and turn the apartment into a backpackers hostel. Now, it was time for a career… He started a moving company by advertising ONLY on Craigslist. (FYI, the company is doing very well through repeat Hollywood customers and of course -Craigslist.) Once getting his territory secure, he kicked out all the foreign roommates and began to search Craigslist for long-term inhabitants… Many people came to view the apartment through Craigslist, including me! I got the room but after complications –luckily- did not move in. However, did marry him nine months later (bet you didn’t see that coming). New Years 2003, he wanted to meet a friend in Vegas. From many pervious nights of exploring Craigslist, he knew that ridesharing was a normal occurrence. He found another poor fellow on Craigslist who was willing to split the car rental and gas with him. Thus began their friendship… Finally, being an immigrant, we had to fill out sponsorship paperwork. I am a recent college grad (GO TROJANS) and did not make enough money last year to qualify as a sole sponsor. We needed a joint sponsor… I couldn’t ask my parents since they don’t know we’re married (it’s a long story) therefore, as expected, he turned to Craigslist. Fortunately, a friendship was made and we had a joint sponsor. Thank You Craigslist!! P.S. Our wedding (not through Craigslist) was so horrible that I decided to start my own wedding company, which will, obviously, be advertised on Craigslist (in a few months). this is in or around Los Angeles webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-11-07T22:44:49-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/48212443.html “I owe Craigslist my life!” text WOMEN OF LOS ANGELES, READ THIS http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/46620057.html First off, I just want to say that L.A. by and large has some great things going for it and I’m happy that I moved here. However, while the women look pretty on the outside they appear to have left their souls, sanity, and other virtues at the state line! Here are a few things I’m NOT looking for: Flakiness: What the fuck is so wrong about being upfront with someone? This entire f’n city is so f’n non-committal it’s re-goddamn-diculous. It’s a city entirely built on dating-up or trading up. Everyone keeps looking instead of settling down and being happy, if only for a little while. Money Grubbing Whores (MGWs): I’ve been with cheap people before, but you know what? It takes a fuck-load of cash to live here, and years to “make it.” So, why can’t the women of L.A. just have some faith in their men and stick with a guy until he makes it? He could even support you while you are trying to make it. I’m going to be rich, powerful, et cetera, but it ain’t gonna happen over night sweetheart. And really, do you just want to be jewelry for a rich guy anyways? What does it say about you as a person, if you only date rich men? Are you going to take it all with you? If you really want to trade sex for money, just put an ad in L.A Weekly, at least you’d be more honest about it. I.Q. Prerequisite (L.A. has none): From politics to world events, the entire fucking city is out to lunch. The worse people in this intellectual wasteland of Los Angeles County, are the uneducated opinionated dimwits that talk just to hear their own voices. Sure you make look great on film, but really, if you don’t know what you are talking about, just shut the fuck up. Politics: I myself am politically neutral; it’s hilarious to hear LA-LA heads blubber senselessly about things they know nothing about. These are the people driving hummers, who bitch about Iraq, while stuck in gridlock! You wanna bitch about petroleum products, more power to you, just don’t buy anything made with non-recycled PLASTIC, or aspire to drive a car with more than 4 cylinders! Lying about your heritage: I have loads of respect for Native American cultures, but I can’t fucking stand it when I hear chicks lie on about being 1/8 Cherokee or 1/64 Chippewa just to sound chic— it’s so freaken fake it’s utterly hilarious. Usually the benign toolbox-bastard on the other end of this conversation usually says something like “cool,” or “wow, I’d never have guessed it.” And if he’s an even bigger ass hat, he says something like “I have loads of respect for Native American cultures.” Spiritual Bullshit: Full disclosure, depending on the day, I’m an atheist or agnostic. I generally respect other’s beliefs, unless they are based on fabricated L.A. spiritual-BULLSHIT!!! I’ve heard soooo much spiritual bullshit since I moved to L.A. that I’ve become a bigger advocate for organized religion. With organized religion at least I’d know where someone is coming from. Instead you meet women that say things like “I’m not religious.. I’m spiritual.. I don’t worship god.. I’m a part of god.” WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN!?? We are all working our asses off to make it in this town, so just settle the fuck down. You don’t have to loose your mind and start inventing religions to cope with the fact that you are hackneyed, talentless, hopeless, and a fucking moron. If you do want to make up your own religion, good for you, keep it to yourself you pathetic ass clown. If you: laughed your ass off, are attractive, 21-30, wicked stable, and quasi-intellectual feel free to write me. Oh.. and if you loved this please vote for it at top for Best of Craigslist. this is in or around Beverly Hills Adj. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-10-24T09:23:14-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/46620057.html WOMEN OF LOS ANGELES, READ THIS text Insane Cat w/lips, Plus $5.00, to good home. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/44030822.html The posting pretty much says it all -- this cat (beautiful charcoal gray color, beautiful coat, beautiful eyes, and lips - yes, lips - do all cats have these?) showed up at our house, we've kept her for a long time, and simply can't keep her any longer. Plus, she's insane. Sweet as pie in the house, but when she gets outside, she terrorizes certain cats in the neighborhood, chasing them onto the roof of our neighbors house and cornering them until we throw rocks at her to get her to stop. Typically we don't get her to stop, but we do get the neighbors pissed off. No biggy - we don't like our neighbors. In fact, feel free to take them too. She also likes to walk under cars, in full view of the drivers, just as they are ready to pull out of the driveway, forcing them to get out of the car, get on all fours, and see where she went. When they do, she smiles with those damn lips of hers. Her name is "Baby Gray," but she also goes by "Crazy Lips." Did I mention that she's insane? The only cat in the neighborhood ever to be maced by the mailman. OK, that's not true, but only because the mailman couldn't get to her - she was under his truck, smiling away. Yours for free, plus we'll give you $5.00 and our eternal thanks. this is in or around Santa Monica webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-09-29T16:43:23-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/44030822.html Insane Cat w/lips, Plus $5.00, to good home. text meet my middle finger http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/41769448.html Say hello to my middle finger. ::|:: Yes. That is my middle finger in keyboard language so deal with it. I'm a rough bitch who likes my hair pulled and my tampon strings played with. In my spare time I like to design furniture out of empty Crisco cans and make pillows out of my ex boyfriends old jeans. I particularly like the crotch section so I can smell his ol stanky ass while watching Strange Brew and 8 Mile. I smoke stogies like Professor Howell and I talk like a dolphin in 5 different languages. Atlantic dolphins. "AUUUYYYYYYYYY" and the Pacific Dolphins "errrrrrryyyyyyyuuuuu". The asian dolphin.. "chonnnnnnnnnnchiiiiiiiiiiii" and the russian dolphin "missssssssssllllieeeeeee" and the lesbian dolphin "coooooooooooochie" I decided long ago that I would make things simple for my prospective suitors and if they ever pissed me off, I would flash my fucking large middle finger in their face. It really cuts out all the communication, needy, emotional crap in relationships. Just know, if you get the finger..back off mother f----- or Ill kick you with my stilettos in your sack of dimes. Dont get me wrong, I like to use my middle finger for nice things as well. Like say for example sticking it up your pie hole. Or hey how about twirling your car keys around it when Im really drunk. Or how about while at a picnic i can screw into a wine bottle cork. I can also wash your car windows with it and just slap that baby on with some soap suds. "Thud" What are you looking at asshole.. You dont need a swiss army knife when i have the middle finger. It gets hard around psychotic hot buttcheeks and emotionally retarded men who cant fucking sit still and fucking cuddle with my fine ass tits. What is wrong with you do you have ADD? eh? ::|:: yeah..that is what i thought. I broke my middle finger once in my last relationship from what the doctor calls "your using your middle finger too much ..its not meant for all those things"..I say fuck em. It sure works for me. I get all that I want and more. The last dude was like waaaaaaaaa Dont tell me what to do. Im like shut up pussy and bend over and take it like a man. So what do you say ..lets make a date shall we? Just the three of us? Come and knock on my door.. Come and knock on my door Ive been waiting for you Weve been waiting for you The finger is hers and hers not his here to fuck with you... webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-09-07T20:01:55-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/41769448.html meet my middle finger text MC: my neighbor with his snooze button http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/41287488.html I thought you might have just forgotten. You don't stay home one night, the alarm is still set, and it goes off and no one is there to turn the thing off. Fine. Sure, it was 5 a.m., and it's surprising that I can hear your alarm, even though you're not even in my building, but in the one across the alley. I shut my windows, but I could still hear the persistent beeping (thanks, Postal Service), trying to wake you up whereever you were. But it's a week later, and every morning, at 5 a.m. the alarm goes off. And I know you're not out of town, because sometimes it goes off for just a few beeps and gets turned off, and sometimes it beeps endlessly for what seems like an hour. Maybe you're a really heavy sleeper. Maybe you revel in the sound of the alarm, how it reminds you that you get to start another day, and to you, the beeping sounds like a chorus of angels, welcoming you to the glory of the morning. Maybe you get dressed really methodically, and need the metronome-like beeping to time your routine, like you were practicing a Bach Invention on the piano. Shorts shorts shorts shorts- pants pants pants pants- shirt shirt shirt shirt- teeth teeth teeth teeth teeth. Or maybe, just maybe, this is a calculated peeping-tom effort. It's summer, it's hot, and this means I do two things at night. I keep my windows open, and I sleep naked. You time your alarm for just when the sun is beginning to rise, and you know that the loud alarm will make me get out of bed, walk over to the windows, and shut them. And for that brief glimpse, you set your alarm each night, put your binoculars by the window, and wait. If that isn't the case, if you are just a heavy sleeper, I have a solution for you. Take my cat at night. He's totally cool about 23 hours of the day. He sleeps, he eats, he sleeps more. But then, around 5 a.m. he loses it. Runs around the apartment posessed, clawing at the furniture, jumps on me, meowing, attacking my other cat, until he goes and poops in the tub, and tuckers out again. I could just bring him over at night, leave him there to be your personal satan-feline alarm clock, and leave me to an entire night of sleep. I'll even provide the clorox wipes for the tub. Cool? this is in or around across the alley webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-09-02T11:42:54-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/41287488.html MC: my neighbor with his snooze button text Sparks flew as I was shoved into a Grand Cherokee - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/40989730.html Friday Night: I was walking out of a Chinatownland jazz club with a gentleman that I met off of the CL personals. (I'm sure you know the club, there is ONLY one - you know, where the Asian singer sings "Send in the Clowns" over the matchbox sized Technicolor dance floor that lights up while caressing the concrete pillars?) My date for the evening had sent me a photo of his penis in response to my personal ad, which usually disgusts me, but the more I looked at the photo, I could tell, this one... just might be different. There was something special, something mysterious in it's eye. I thought ‘This may be the one, the one I've been yearning for. The perfect fit!’ I was ecstatic! I mean, I could tell those other penis photos, and I got a million of ‘em, were all from weed retards and computer geeks. I could tell that this guy had it together, he had class and sophistication. I wrote him back and asked if he would meet me on Friday night in a dark alley downtown, preferably close to the Greyhound Station on 7th. The moon would be full and the light particularly romantic. I like to be romanced. He wrote back and asked if we might go to The Standard first then head on to the dark alley. I laughed and wrote ‘Sure, whatever you want.’ So, we met and he was even better looking than his member to my delight. He seemed to like me too, I mean, he didn't hit on any other girls while "I went to the ladies room" like all my other first dates have. And I wasn't spying on him, just observing.... As we talked, we found that we had nothing in common. He was a consultant for the love of Christ Cakes! How could I ever date or even have sex with one of THEM! Plus he really loved the atmosphere of The Standard and I had trouble posing on those gay pink couches comfortably, I didn't have my khaki pants on that night like he did. I suggested we head on down to the dark alley, but he thought we should hit Chinatown before we got it on. Sometimes it's so fucking difficult for a gal to get fucked, even by a guy you don't like. I just wanted to see if his penis looked like it did in the photograph, but by that time I figured he'd sent me a photoshopped version, or one taken before the "accident" he had mentioned. So after a few drinks at the Chinatown Jazz club I mentioned before, my date and I walked through the courtyard right by the wishing well, where I spotted you. Instantly I saw sparks fly, which made me lose my pink high heel flip flop. You watched me as my long Caucasian arm picked up the delicate sandal and put it back onto my gorgeous well formed foot. It was in slow motion, wasn't it? It was for me. I instantly came to my senses and remembered the fucking guy behind me. Who the hell did he think he was, sending me a photo of his creepy cock! Who in their right mind would respond to something so vile! I need a sensitive man, a hero, a lover like... you. I told my date that I wasn't feeling it anymore and that I should go home, which made him enraged. He called me a cock tease and grabbed my arm, forcing me down the empty street toward his car. I looked back once to see you had followed me, but I was shoved into this assholes Grand Cherokee before I could reach out to you. My date saw you too as I fought to stay out of the vehicle. You called out to your friends to come and see and my date told you 'There's nothing to see here!' in a forceful tone. My date slammed the door and ran to the other side of the car, just long enough for me to scream out of the open window for you. 'Asian Man of my DREAMS! HELP ME YOU PUSSY COCKSUCKER! You can take this guy - he's only an ex-Marine with a giant dick. I love you!' The window was soon rolled up as my date / captor sped off like lighting. I could tell that you wanted to help me; you couldn't witness something like that and not have it eat at your conscience for the rest of your life. You're one of the good ones. Strong and noble. I know you tried in your way to save me. We didn't go to the alley, oh no. He took me to the basement of his parent’s house and had his way with me repeatedly by force. He tied me up with bungee cords and gagged me with belt and a dead chicken. Then he beat me with a shoe horn and pistachios. I just kept on thinking about you, good thoughts, like you getting the license place off the FUCKING Cherokee. He let me go this morning with only a few minor infectious cuts, a few 3rd degree burns and missing finger. Actually I kind of wanted to stay, the sex was pretty amazing, but I can't afford to loose anymore digits. I mean once you’re down to 7 you gotta prioritize. Now what do I do with you, after you allow me to be brutally raped, tortured and humiliated for days? I hope you know that it is pretty much ALL YOUR FAULT, even though I know you and your buddies surely filed something with the cops... put up missing signs... prayed to buddah... something! I don't know, maybe I'm just mixed up. Maybe you didn't do anything because you are a spineless goat sucking ass master with no balls. I just know that when I was being ass probed by that Smuckers Jelly jar I only saw your face in my mind and it gave me peace. If you want, after the bruises heal and I get some medication for the infections perhaps you'd like to have a drink with me. I think you're just what I need to get the taste of dead chicken out of my mouth. Note: Some of this didn’t happen, which means some of it did. You make your own assesment. this is in or around Chinatown webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-08-30T16:05:17-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/40989730.html Sparks flew as I was shoved into a Grand Cherokee - w4m text I grabbed your boobs on Sunset. - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/39483432.html Saturday night, I was out with my buddies walking around on Sunset, going from bar to bar, club to club, etc. You were, presumably, with your girl friends. As we neared each other, none of us made eye contact. It's as though we were trying not to look at each other. I sure as hell was. But because of this, I wasn't looking where I was going either, and tripped on a crack in the pavement and tripped, falling forward, right as you were passing by. My arms flailed about and tried to grab the nearest sturdy thing to steady myself. That nearest thing ended up being your rack. Unfortunately, your breasts weren't steady nor sturdy enough, so I kept falling. Along the way, your shirt and bra were torn off in the process. Your knockers, exposed to the night air, bounced with delight and glee. Almost immediately, you came down upon me, fists rained down hellfire the likes of which I've never experienced. Your friends quickly joined in, pummeling me, while my own friends stood back and watched, giggling gayly as if their kindergarten classmate had just poohed his pants during recess. It was when you were pepperspraying the shit out of me that we locked eyes for a moment. It was incredibly painful to keep my eyes open, due to the intense sting from the pepperspray, but I noticed how goddamn gorgeous your blue eyes were, and I think I noticed a moment of hesitation, almost admiration, perhaps. A hint of a smile formed on your face, and for a second, I thought you were going to kiss me, but then you headbutted me directly into the sidewalk, rendering me unconscious. This, however, did not stop you from kicking me in the side, spitting on my face and stealing my wallet, while, yes, you were there, you know, my friends continued laughing and whooping it up like a bunch of drunken rednecks at a hoedown. I had hoped to find your phone number scratched into my chest, along with the many other scratches from your fingernails, but alas, when I came to, nothing. Just blood and a few scattered teeth. I sincerely hope you read this message because I think we had a connection, you and I. I want to see where this might lead. As long as it's not the ICU again. this is in or around Hollywood webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-08-16T01:06:13-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/39483432.html I grabbed your boobs on Sunset. - m4w text Got caught banging waitress! I need furniture..... CHEAP! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/37271333.html So I was banging this waitress from Coco's. Wife found out. Now I need: Sofa & love seat (or sectional) dinette set (3 or 4 chairs w/table) Coffee table/end tables Working fridge I let the wife have everything except my testis (I got those back when I signed the house over to her). Sure, call me a Pussy but I can't screw over my kids and God knows I can't take care of em like she can. Yes, I got caught cheating and I'm paying for it. Yes, I'll burn in hell along with all the other men who enjoy sex more then once a decade. The wife wasn't using my penis, and he was getting rusty and didn't want to play with me any more. He'd talk to me at night, his voice was that of Yoda and he was starting to get green from not being used. I don't know if the waitress was hot, or if it was just that she was nice and wasn't a bitch. Next thing you know my Johnson was begging me to try. "No! She'll never go for a guy like me! Shut up" But the Purple Headed Warrior didn't listen, he kept nagging and nagging until I just tried so he'd shut up. Next thing I know we're at her place and she's a total nympho. YEEEEHAAAAAA! Sure, the waitress knew I was married with 3 kids. She didn't care. Told me not to get attached because this is just convient sex. Like I'd complain. Yoda was happy. He wasn't rusty any more. He'd sing in the middle of the day. He was happy. I was happy. Waitress was happy. Wife was happy because I wasn't attacking her any more. Yes, I tried the romance and the holding thing for 20 years. It got me nothing! NOTHING! Three months later the wife decides she wants sex. It was one of those middle of the night things, I dreamt I was porkin' Beverly DeAngelo (shut up, it's my dream) and when I open my eyse BAM! IT'S THE WIFE! So we go on, then I blurt out HER name. Not the wife's, no. That would be too perfect. I blurt out the waitress' name. ANGIE! OH ANGIE YEAH ANGIE! See, I never listened to my older brother, just say OH BABY OH BABY OH HUNY that way it never bites you int the ass. But nooooooooo. I had to use her name. Did I try to talk my way out of it? I could have said I was thinking about Angelina Joliet but like a tard I said, "Yea, that's right. I was thinking about HER!" Then all shit hit the fan. My subconcience wanted it to be over. Sure I had a nice house with nice stuff. Sure we had "couple" friends. But the lack of sex, the riots when I'd even dare mention "head" and the constant bickering and bitching about any little thing made me happy to think it's over. She was never happy, always bitching and complaining about something. I was always trying to make her happy. All I wanted was occasional sex and to be able to take a nice peaceful bowel movement. I'd do anything she wanted, go where she wanted, opera, plays, art, wine, I did it because I wanted to make her happy. What did I ask in return? An occasional blow job. Nothing serious, no gang bang while I watch. No midgets. No sheep. Just occasional oral. And not 2 seconds either (LICK) "Ok, lets go". No, no, like in the movie. Enjoy it! Love it! Pretend! But nooooooooo. That's "wrong". Sure I was a professional Muff Diver, for her it was magical, for me it was wrong. Yay! It's over. You'd think that Angie the Nympho waitress would still dig me. Nooooo, that would be good. Once she found out that I got separated/kicked out she lost interest in me. She was a weirdo that got off on using another womans man and that sort of thing. So, you've heard my story. I could give a crap less what you think about me personally. I need decent furniture cheap. Please send pics and price. I can have a mover pickup within 24 hours or less if needed. I gave her everything. Only things I took was my Mitsubishi big screen, my Tempurpedic CalKing mattress and my remote control. No, I didn't argue the point. I walked out with a smile. I gave her everything. I held back nothing. I agreed to live on 1500 per month, let her and the kids have everything else. I've had more tail being single then when I was married. Funny, women are complete freaks and even enjoy facials before they're married. Once they wear the white (LOL) dress their views change. Oh, also need weekend woman. Must get turned on by fat pathetic small penis men who enjoy farting. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-07-23T15:34:03-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/37271333.html Got caught banging waitress! I need furniture..... CHEAP! text I Just Landed the Best Fucking Job in the World! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/37056381.html Fellow CLers take notice because this is going to blow you away! I just landed a job that you won't fucking believe. My father worked for the city of LA for a long time and just recently they decided to create this job. (my father is retired now) I only got the opportunity to do this b/c of my father's good standing with the city but check it out. I AM GOING TO ENFORCE THE NEW LAP-DANCE LAWS! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH WHOOOOO HHOOOOOOOO SUCKAS! That's right, I have been hired to go from strip club to strip club and watch strippers/dancers to make sure that they adhere to the new laws. I go in and monitor at first and then I am allowed to ask for a lap dance or "dance" and if the dancer gets too freaky then POW! she and the bar get fined! WILL I GET MAD PUSSY OR WILL I GET THE PUSSY MAD?!?!??!!? Fellow CLers, praise to god, it gets better. My degree is in Communications and I have been working for the last two years for a private advertising company for peanuts; guess what the city of LA is paying me to do this job!?!??!!??!?...ready?....listening?...ready?... .........$72,000 DOLLARS A YEAR...HAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHAHAHA SUCKAS! RIGHT NOW I AM RUNNING AROUND THE HOUSE NAKED THINKING OF ALL THE HOT, YOUNG, SLUTS I WILL TAKE ADVANTAGE OF.....WHOOOOOOO HHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO....STAY TUNED B/C THIS CAN ONLY GET BETTER AND I WILL KEEP YOU GUYS UPDATED!!!!!!! this is in or around Los Angeles webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-07-21T14:37:08-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/37056381.html I Just Landed the Best Fucking Job in the World! text WARNING!!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/35274458.html Don't Shave That Hair!!! I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble shitting. No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't-Be-Flushed threshold. I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. "Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-Line now has complete Usenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea. I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair. Occassionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My ass was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over. Little did I know. I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry. Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic shit- molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky shit/sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm. Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering shit/sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own shit blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks." Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil. As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your ass having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony. Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR! webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-07-01T14:15:24-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/35274458.html WARNING!!! text FREE PUPPY http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/34182919.html My brother has a very cute male dachshund "mix" puppy named MAX that he needs to give to a good home. he's excellent with kids, loyal, playful, HOUSEBROKEN, and friendly. So is the dog. the reason he needs to give it away is his wife. she claims it keeps "staring" at her and gives her the "heebie jeebies". anyway, there's a pic of the puppy below. Please respond ASAP. "MAX"  <table><tr><td align=center><img src="http://a.im.craigslist.org/N3/16/ix3HFDiid5HMnAyl6mT5XVagktlD.jpg"></td> <td align=center> </td></tr> <tr><td align=center> </td> <td align=center> </td></tr></table>  this is in or around palms/wla webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-19T09:33:22-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/34182919.html FREE PUPPY text notes written by a guy for guys on how to perform cunnlingus http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/34050600.html As of late it has come to my attention that a lot of my fellow men suck at going down on girls. I think part of it comes from apathy; some of it comes from a lack of experience and some of it comes from a lack of understanding. The apathy I cannot help with. Most likely if you don't care as to whether you're the greatest greatest she's ever had, you also don't care about things like how fast you can lap Willow Springs (1:30's with street tires). And that to me is just sad. Understanding I can help with. I guess the most important piece of understanding is that male and female parts originate from the same embryonic tissues and the nerves that goto those tissues are reasonably similar. Knowing this gives us a common point of reference. Here is how things roughly match up. Female / Male Clitoris / head of penis Inner lips / shaft of penis Outer lips / testacles G-spot / something we don't reach So for us to put light pressure on a clitoris is the same as if a girl were giving us light pressure on the head of our penis. The way those nervous impulses are perceived by our brains is does not translate 100% the same way. For example, imagine sexual stimulus as entering keystrokes on a computer game. The object of the game is to hit the "H" key as many times as possible in a smooth and controlled manner. Well for guys H works, so do G, Y, U, J, N, B and maybe the space bar. So if you're in the neighborhood with what you are doing it's not as good as H but it's pretty good. For women H give a positive response but too much of G, Y, U, J, N, B will drown out the response given by H. What does this mean? It means that we have to be spot on precise with what we are doing. What is H? H is both a spot and a speed of tonguing (which will vary with arousal). The spot to the best of my knowledge is pretty small. It is approximately 2.5mm below the clitoris and is about 10mm in size. This means when we are going down on her that the total swept area is only about 15-17mm in size and reaches from the clitoris/hood complex down. The motion of licking should be slow-fast-slow. All of her hardware is complex and for complex systems the preferred rate is always slow-fast-slow. If you do not go slow-fast-slow she perceives it as a "sharp" feeling. As her arousal increases you will have to increase the rate at which your tongue is moving. Once she is close enough to orgasm the sharp feeling she can deal with but only once she's good-N-worked up. So this is H and everything else you do; tonguing the hole, nibbling in lips etc falls under the category of G, Y, U, J, N, B. A word about rates. As with everything delta rate; the rate @ which your rate of licking changes is best changed slow-fast-slow. Think about your rates as a sinusoidal curve. Slow at first, fast getting her up on arousal and the slow towards the finish; optionally you can finish fast. The entire time while you are doing this you're also sucking lightly just enough to engorge that critical 15-17mm area with blood, but not too hard as that is part of what leads to over stimulation. A word about orgasms. When women orgasm it is different than when we orgasm. The uterus plays a large role in a normal healthy orgasm. It's muscular and it contracts. Much like a weight lifter with a weight belt; you can give the uterus something to push against which will increase the strength and intensity of orgasms. To do this you place your hand on her lower abdomen about where the uterus is and push firmly with the force being transmitted in about a 45 degree angle towards her upper body when she is close to orgasm. Note to be careful about doing this as a push in the wrong place or wrong orientation can and will make her want to pee. A note about types of orgasm. Women have 2 distinct types of orgasm clitoral and vaginal. Clitoral orgasms are analogous to our orgasms. They are peaky, intense and generally it's not something that can happen for long stretches. They also have vaginal orgasms which are more like a wave of orgasm that flows over their body. Vaginal orgasms when stimulated properly can go on for hours. The most efficient way I have found for stimulating a vaginal orgasm is the G-spot it's a textured area inside the front/top of the vagina about a finger in and stroking with light/medium/hard/med/light pressure and well trimmed nails works wonderfully. You can also time your clitoral and vaginal stimulation so that they compliment each other. The hardware and software that run both orgasms are different enough that you can stimulate both pathways which results in both orgasms happening together. The amount of stimulation for a vaginal orgasm is about 50% greater than a clitoral one so focusing on the licking approximately 50% more will get both orgasms to happen pretty close together. Oh; vanginal orgasms seem to work better when they are pushed to orgasm slowly, clitoral orgasms seem to work better when they are pushed over quickly (but not always) Reading what her body is telling you is important. Things to watch out for are muscle contraction, noises, wetness, reddening of the lips, and body movement. Her breathing and her body movement tell you the approximate speed that her body wants to be stimulated; for best effect you want to be close to this rate. As she get more aroused this rate will increase and as it increases the rate @ which your are stimulating her should increase also. Even rhythmic muscle contractions are good; they are what you are looking for. When you get an arrhythmic muscle contraction/and or arrhythmic noise chances are that you just did something that she doesn't like (hitting G, Y, U, J, N, B) so you don't do that again unless she says something differently. Wetness and reddening/warmth of the lips increasing through out tells you that you are indeed doing what you should be doing. Interestingly one of the things that help with female orgasms is simply how relaxed they are going into sex. It's for this reason that I try to always spend 10-15 min giving a backrub and rubbing legs/feet before going down. Every woman is different; what I've posted up will work for about 90% of the girls out there. The thing to note is that sometimes the nerves are wired differently which means that her center of pleasure; that critical 15-17mm will be in a different place. Generally she'll have a pretty good idea of where that is and will tell you if you ask. Lastly I do a debriefing after. Questions like "what worked for you", "did I do anything that didn't help get you off", "when you did X, what was happening", etc. You’d be surprised what you can learn. Opentrackers have this, racers do this, and pilots landing on a carrier get each landing critiqued. Hopefully this will help some girl explain to her guy what he needs to know. I've noticed that too often women have no freaking idea just what good cunnilingus feels like and are often pleasantly amused @ the different sensations they feel. I'll probably make more changes to this post as I think of other things to add to this rant. Oh; favor; please vote this as one of the "best of" for CL.. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-17T17:23:31-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/34050600.html notes written by a guy for guys on how to perform cunnlingus text You Layed On Me Twice and Gave Me Fake Numbers http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/34018733.html I was feeling nostalgic, and apparently the cosmos were feeling ironic, because I happened to be taking a break from The Shins and indulging the old pleasure of Sublime's album "Sublime." I was feeling good in my Integra as I hummed the feel-good refrain, "Lovin' is what I got" while you sat in your black Nissan Pathfinder waiting for the green left turn arrow to send us on our respective ways. I fully agree with you, the wait is long as one tries to turn from Sunset onto Hilgard, and it's not abnormal to start fidgeting out of boredom. Is that why, as I was so convinced that lovin' is indeed what I got, your reverse lights went on? Maybe you were just playing with the accurate, Japanese crafted action of your automatic gear selector? Perhaps this was an attempt at philanthropy by giving me a new set of lights to ponder as I passed the time? Maybe you have a basic fascination with cause and effect, and you enjoy seeing the D become unlighted when you move the stick, and the R turn red as you move it down. Because of the loving that I had, I smiled as you reversed onto my Acura Integra and sat there for a moment, and then another moment, and then quite a few more moments. I'm sure you just thought the horn honking was a nifty sound effect used on Power 106 (similar to Big Boy's charming cow bell), or perhaps a large bird of prey engaged in activities irrelevant to you. You did, thankfully, realize you had sat your rear suspension and drive shaft on my hood and pulled off in no time flat, about 30 seconds. I take full responsibility for what happened next. My pointing out my window and yelling, "Pull over there!" could easily be mistaken for "That was awesome! Reverse onto me again!" Being the diligent direction-follower that you are, you promptly snapped that square back around the R, heard another bird of prey feast on an animal, and sat down like a good boy on my hood. This time you decided to really show me your moves, you big showoff! I really didn't need to be able to give you a detailed description of what your exhaust pipe's interior looked like (a little rusty. You might want to have that checked). After your second feat, you didn't go for a three-peat and just pulled over to the side of Hilgard. Trust me, dude, I completely understand that it's your friend's car and you're not used to its gear changer. I've been there, man. Every time I borrow somebody's car, I have to figure out what makes the damn thing go, then I gotta figure out what makes the mother-effer stop, and let's not even get started on how to make those lights stuck on the front of it turn on when the sun goes to bed. Why, just the other week I borrowed my friend's car, got confused with the velocitator, and ended up finishing third in the Monaco Grand Prix! The craziest things happen when you borrow someone's car! I guess it was because you were using my pen, instead of your old familiar Bic, that you gave me a disconnected number and a phony address. I know how it is -- you have to learn to write accurate information with just one pen. A new utensil throws the whole process off. Don't even get me started on eating with anything but my old trusty fork. Luckily for me, I was using my own pen, so I recorded both your driver's license and license plate correctly, and I remember exactly what you look like. And unless that was a phony State Farm agent I just talked to, I think I might have picked up your scent after all. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-17T11:45:46-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/34018733.html You Layed On Me Twice and Gave Me Fake Numbers text ARE YOU 70, FUN AND SEXLESS? YOU’RE PERFECT FOR MY MOTHER! - w4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/33307642.html First, let me state that I LOVE MY MOTHER. She is one of the most amazing, dynamic, FUNNY, loving people I know. She taught me the meaning of unconditional LOVE, and a well-delivered punch-line. However… a year ago I bought her a house ten blocks from mine in Pasadena, and brought her here from Muskogee Oklahoma so we could see each other a lot more. And it’s been wonderful, but… she is getting on my nerves a little. She engages in a lot of nervous old lady behavior that drives me nuts. She tells me how to drive, calls me up and REMINDS me of things like, “Call your doctor for an appointment.” And WORST, she tells me HOW TO USE THE goddamn MICROWAVE like I am retarded, and not 43 years old, and having managed to use a microwave for 30 years with NO HORRIBLE MICROWAVE MALFUNCTIONS. Still, she tells me, whenever I put ANYTHING IN THE MICROWAVE, how long I should “zap” it for. Okay… so, aside from that stuff, which she only pulls on ME, she’s a swell broad. She just needs to make a friend or two. The problem is, SHE’S NOT OLD. Most of the time she is damn funny. She’s an avid reader, an avid gardener ( she volunteers at the Huntington Gardens, and they love her). She has what I call USEFUL SKILLS. She not only sews, she’s a friggin’ seamstress. She knows how to CAN shit. Like fruit. She could make JAM if she had to. She has a meat grinder, and grinds her own chicken for chicken salad. She’s a great cook. She is a nurse, and knows a LOT about medications and shit, so if YOU are 70, that is VERY USEFUL. She was a hospice nurse for the last ten years so she also has a huge storehouse of stories about people croaking that will give you goose bumps. She’s very smart, but not in, like, an intellectual way. She doesn’t have perfect grammar. SHE MAKES UP WORDS. My brother and I call them HYBRID words, because they are usually a combination of one ore more words that then make an EVEN better word. Like: FLUSTRATED. “I am so FLUSTRATED!” A hybrid of Flustered and Frustrated. You can be flustered, and you can be frustrated, but what if you are BOTH? FLUSTRATED! That’s what! Or PHANTOM as in “That seems so difficult that I can’t even PHANTOM it.” It’s better than FATHOM, since a Phantom is ethereal and hard to grasp. We DO NOT CORRECT HER when these words come up, and YOU SHOULDN’T EITHER. We don’t want to stop them from popping up in her conversation. The reason I am posting here is my mother is just not STANDARD. We went by the Senior Center in Pasadena, and it’s just NOT HER. She’s not SENIOR. She’s fully engaged in the world. Biting wit, well-read, up for anything… fun at parties. Hilariously self deprecating. Sort of a pretty, petite Ann Richards. She has always had friends of all ages. People in their thirties would go out of their way to find something to do with her. She’s just FUN. Her ex-husband, John, is still close to her. She actually saved his life by correctly identifying that he was having a heart attack, and driving him to go to the hospital. (USEFUL SKILL) She then nursed him back to health. He nursed her through a broken shoulder from a mugging, including helping her bathe and change her clothes. This is after they were divorced. So, that leads me to believe that she’s a great friend, someone people go out of their way to spend time with. So, maybe you have a 70 year old or YOUNGER parent/friend, who would like to make friends with the woman I credit with making me the awesome person I am today. If they are male, they have to HAVE NO SEX DRIVE. She’s seventy for chrissakes, she doesn’t want some old guy rutting around on her. She needs someone who likes to try new stuff, and who is easy going and fun. Someone who likes to read and share books. It would be nice too, if they know of fun stuff to do, or if they read the paper and find out about something new to do. That’s my mom. Since she moved here I have done things for the first time after living here for 15 years. Things she would read about and arrange. Things like: 1) Going to Santa Anita for the first time for a seminar on how to bet on the horses, and winning over $300. 2) Decorating a Rose Parade float. 3) Going to the Garment District downtown and buying amazing fabric for only $6 a yard. It would be great if she had a friend who also did stuff like that. She doesn’t need any movers or shakers. She’s not like JANE FONDA 70, she’s NORMAL AMERICA 70. And, oh yeah, she’s a democrat and a liberal. Plus, for a limited time only, you will get ME as a bonus! I am a middle aged overweight lesbian with a life partner! How cool is that!? Email me a little bit about your older friend, or if you ARE that older person, tell me something about yourself. My mother is petite and pretty with beautiful silver hair, and blazing blue eyes. She is a former RODEO QUEEN. People respond to her a lot as if she were an adorable pet. WE PREFER LADY FRIENDS for our mom. But, if you are a GENTLEMAN, then that’s okay too. And GUESS WHAT? NO PICS NECESSARY! That’s right, MY MOM DOESN’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE! SINCE SHE’S NOT GOING TO FUCK YOU!! Hope to hear from you soon. this is in or around Pasadena, CA webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-09T10:23:31-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/33307642.html ARE YOU 70, FUN AND SEXLESS? YOU’RE PERFECT FOR MY MOTHER! - w4w text I want to fuck an extraterrestrial. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/33274144.html No, that's not a typo. I really do desire to fuck an extraterrestrial. I want to have intense sexual intercourse with a non-worldly being--a Casual Encounter of the Third Kind, if you will. (Yes, I know there's a Casual Encounters forum, but it's full of fucking perverts). So, if any female aliens frequent CL for whatever reason (maybe you're here secretly studying human sociology, for example), then hear me out, because I've put quite a bit of thought into this. First off, you may be curious as to why the hell I want to have sex with one of your kind in the first place? Well, I've come up with three basic reasons: 1. Your level of intellectual advancement. In order to be visiting Earth, I assume that you come from a highly advanced civilization that is thousands if not millions of years ahead of my own. Your knowledge must surpass that of even the most knowledgeable mortals. You could answer all the questions that have plagued our philosophers and scientists and astronomers for thousands of years. And while we're making passionate love, maybe you could even blurt out the Theory of Everything and The Meaning of Life to me? 2. Your level of spiritual advancement. I also assume that you are highly spiritually advanced beings that are in tune with the vibe of the Universe, or some crap like that, I really have no clue. But I think by being together we could join both our bodies and minds for a truly out-of-this-world spiritual experience. 3. You drive a UFO. Do you realize how cool that is? Ok, now that we got the why-I-want-to-have-sex-with-you out of the way, let's get another thing out of the way: your physical appearance. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure that your highly intellectually and spiritually evolved species is past the physical appearance thing, but I'm still a human being with a nimble human brain and therefore need a certain level of physical attractiveness present in my mate. However, not having my "Guide to Intergalactic Species" handy, and never having actually had sex with an alien before, I really have no clue which alien species I prefer. I'll tell you what kind of aliens I absolutely don't want though. If you're a "Gray" (yes you little anal-probing bastards), I'm sorry but there's several things wrong with you: Your heads are way too big and disproportionate to your body size, your big black bug-eyes are just freaky, and finally, I don't want your anal probes anywhere near my anus. I'm also going to have to say 'no' if you're an Alien Queen or some other malicious alien species. I'm sorry, but as I mentioned before, the reason I want to have sex with you is to grow as a human being not to lead to the downfall of my own species. So ideally, I guess that you would closely resemble the females of my own species--preferably the hot ones. You would have nice smooth skin, devoid of scales, feathers, or any other weird stuff like that. The color doesn't really matter, but blue would be pretty cool, like that famous alien opera singer, minus the tentacles on your head, those just make you look silly. Also, having two boobs is fine (I only have two hands after all). So, my sexy little alien princess, are you out there? Do you even exist? And more importantly, do you want to fuck me as bad as I want to fuck you? Let's fly away in your UFO, my sweet alien princess. Let's watch the sunset and sunrise from 200 miles above the Earth while we dance in the weightlessness of your spacecraft. Let's stare deep into each other's eyes and feel the spiritual connection of our two beings. Let's exchange oral fluids and mingle our tongues as we ascend further and further into space. Let's... HOLY SHIT, THE MOON! My dear alien princess, fuck moonlit beach-walks, we're FLYING by the FUCKING MOON! Passing the Moon we ascend further and further into space, you continuing to press your tongue deeper and deeper into my mouth. Actually, that's a little too deep, I can't breathe. Thanks, that's better. I reach around your back, feeling the perfect contour of your body from top to bottom, looking for the damn zipper on your spacesuit. We pass by Mars, its rusty red wastelands glow with an eerie aura about them. I want to suggest stopping by my earthly buddies Spirit and Opportunity, to give those NASA geeks a good laugh, but alas I am still busy looking for your damn zipper. Time passes. You reach back ever so gracefully and in one single movement your spacesuit slides to the ground, revealing the pure perfection of your body. I thank god you're not wearing an alien bra, god knows I have enough trouble with the human ones. I slide my hand towards your breasts. They feel so natural and firm and alive. Maybe that's why your species doesn't wear bras. Or maybe it's just the lack of gravity? I don't know. You tell me to stop contemplating such silly thoughts and to keep licking. We are fast approaching Jupiter. I move downwards. Jupiter passes by. And then Saturn. We skip Uranus, but we do pass by Neptune. They are truly awe-inspiring sights, or at least that's what I assume since I'm too busy looking for your g-spot. Does your species even have a g-spot my alien princess? And if you do, where the hell is it? We are picking up speed. Your moans are getting louder and louder. Pluto whizzes by and our solar system quickly disappears into the starry abyss. We are traveling up the spiral arm of the Milky Way. We pass by stars of all sizes and colors: white, red, blue, orange, yellow, dwarfs, giants, pulsars, supernovas. We pass by double and triple and quadruple star systems, we pass by planets as green and blue as the Earth itself, we pass by planets with colors I have never seen before, we pass by nebulae so beautiful and mysterious that I cannot describe them. "Oh Yes!" you exclaim. Your thighs press firmly against my head, you start to shake, you can't breathe, we reach the last vestiges of the Milky Way and start ascending into the heavens as you gasp for air and suddenly explode into a state of bliss more powerful than a thousand suns imploding at once. Silence. ... Three galaxies later and you start breathing again. I let out a sigh of relief, as I really don't think I could have figured out how to pilot your UFO. We start making love--passionate love. Our bodies join in ecstasy and our minds mend together as if they had never meant to be apart. Time itself ceases to have meaning. We then traveled from galaxy to galaxy, making love in every galaxy and by every star. We made love in tiny newborn galaxies with only a billion stars; we made love in spiral giants with over a trillion. And there were planets everywhere! And they were teeming with life. Life so bizarre and indescribable that it should not exist, it could not exist. Yet it did exist. And there were civilizations, civilizations everywhere! There were civilizations just springing to life and civilizations older than the stars themselves. Some noticed our presence, a few even seemed to know we were coming, yet most were oblivious to the fact that we were fucking right above their skies. Galaxy after galaxy we visited, from one end of the Universe to the other. 500 billion galaxies we visited in total, seeing sights and experiencing things that do not even exist in dreams. And then further and further into the Universe we ventured. We traveled through wormholes, we dove into black holes. We found ourselves in parallel existences, we found ourselves in multiple times and places at once, we went beyond the Physical, we went beyond Time, we even transcended the Realm of Thought. We peered beyond the atom and into the smallest quantum, we then peered beyond that and saw the building block of all existence. We stood outside existence and saw the Universe as a whole. We created energy out of nothingness, we violated the First Law of Thermodynamics, we even created our own Physical Laws and then broke those as well. We went to the edge of reality and back, we traveled past Infinity and returned, we touched the edge of all-that-is, we merged with the Source, we fucked on the very fingertips of God Himself. Oh my sweet extraterrestrial princess, where are you? I miss you. When will we finally meet? Have we already met in the past? Have we already met in the future? Is there really a difference? I feel sad that I do not know the answers to these questions. I feel sad that I do not know when we will be together. I feel sad that I am actually posting this on fucking Craigslist. -- this is in or around Los Angeles / Earth / Milky Way webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-09T00:02:23-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/33274144.html I want to fuck an extraterrestrial. text Whomp! There is is!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32729234.html Dear Lovely Intern, You have been working at the magazine for three weeks now, and you seem so happy. You refer to me as "A-Boogie", you whisper sweet nothings like "Yo, your rack is tighter than the Lohan" and "you got junk girl...phat junk." You tell me of your trials and tribulations how "the world is against me", "my pops is always down my neck" and that "I can never get respect, B". And I understand your pain. I understand how hard is was growing up in Pacific Palisades. I know that your father disgraced you by purchasing a blue 2004 BMW instead of the 2004 Cadillac Escalade that you told your friends you were getting. I know that dodging bullets and carjackings everyday at Pepperdine has made your higher education process a bit trying. I completley understand how angry you are that your mother won't give you an extra 3 grand a month to your already pitiful allowance of 6500. I totally understand why you hate your sister who "like goes to the temple and shit, and they love her for that yo...they like tell me she is the shit. What the fuck am I, fool?" How have you managed to survive? How have you maintained such a level head and driven heart, all while dealing with repression, opression and prejudice? I know the constant singing all day of the 1993 Tag Team song "Whoomp! There it is!" makes you happy and takes the pain away. I know the sports anthem, and song played at every Hooters melts your sorrow...but maybe, just maybe can you stop singing it for five minutes. Just long enough for you to tell me about your new Shady Sweatshirt and Nike Air Force Ones. I promise I'll listen. I promise I will get you over the mountain to the promised land, and one day...just one day you will be a blooming rose in a concrete jungle. Word... webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-02T14:33:03-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32729234.html Whomp! There is is!! text I NEED POOP--- SERIOUSLY! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32655130.html Hello..this might sound like a joke, but I am conducting a scientific experiment on human feces...I need it from both male and female subjects and am willing to pay a good price for it.. Send me information on weight, height, age, and approximately how much poop you will be able to sell, and I will explain to you how to arrange the deal... THIS IS NOT A JOKE. NOTE: it must be human poop, and not animal, this will contaminate the experiment, and it is very easy to tell the difference. *if you are a major supplier, we may open a link between us, i need LARGE ammounts, send me information on how much you could produce (if it's a small amount it's also okay). Caution: Feces must be in at least a semi-solid state. Please do not try to sell diarrhea. Diarrhea is not ok. Again, this is NOT a joke, a prank, or a hoax. Thanks for your time and your contribution to the development of scientific knowledge. Thank you. this is in or around Santa Monica webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-01T18:30:49-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32655130.html I NEED POOP--- SERIOUSLY! text Open Letter to: Russian Man Who Translated an entire movie to his wife http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32575319.html An Open letter to the Russian Man Who Translated the entire script of "The Day After Tomorrow" to his Russian Wife during tonight's 7:45 showing at the Grove: Dear Russian Man Who Translated the entire script of "The Day After Tomorrow" to your Russian Wife, My fiancee and I wanted to commend you for having the decency and fortitude to translate an entire 2-hour movie, word-for-word, to your wife... who apparently does not speak a word of English and also apparantly does not hear very well. The fact that you would have the stamina to watch an entire movie AND translate every single word to your hard-of-hearing wife is remarkable, and will surely be remembered for years by at least this humble couple. The fact that you could translate over such loud scenes, like the one where the city of Los Angeles was basically torn to shreds by several tornados, (not to mention the one where New York City was practically destroyed by a rogue tsunami) speaks volumes to your character, your lung capacity, and your vocal chord strength... all of which were in full evidence during the quiter scenes as well, like when the Smart-kid-who-failed-calculus-because-he-was-smarter-than-his-teacher was FINALLY kissing the smart-girl-who-had-never-noticed-the-smart-kid-who-failed-calculus-until-he-saved-her-from-a-giant-rogue-tsunami after he saved her from the aforementioned huge, menacing wave. It is obvious that you are not a lifelong smoker, or at least that you do not have emphesema, because- though most of us sadly could not understand the Russian language- we all were in awe of your vocal clarity and stamina. We would also like to point out that you appear to handle stressful situations well, like when the guy a few seats down from us turned around and asked if you could "please shut up." Another example that sticks out is when the same guy, a few moments later, actually got out of his seat and repeated himself, this time with his finger only inches from your face and with a few salty modifiers peppering his request. The fact that you did not let this kind of intimidation put an end to your thorough Russian translation only adds to our appreciation of your character and intestinal fortitude. We also want to commend you for your perfect behavior after the film, when several people who had the luck to sit near you actually said rude things like "thanks for ruining the movie," and "do you ever shut the fuck up?" The fact that you did not lose your composure, and more importantly showed the clarity of judgment NOT to translate these obscentities to your wife, speaks volumes about your infinite kindness and consideration. So to you, Mr. Russian Man Who Translated the entire script of "The Day After Tomorrow" to your Russian Wife, we want to commend you for a job well done. Cheers! this is in or around the grove webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-31T23:31:50-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32575319.html Open Letter to: Russian Man Who Translated an entire movie to his wife text YOU: GIRL BY YOUR POOL IN MANHATTAN BEACH. I WAS ON THE 747 THAT FLEW OVER - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32515740.html I was on the 747 that flew over your house today around 3:30pm. You probably didn't notice me in particular, but you might have remembered the plane...a big United 747. You did look up for a minute, but then turned over and gave me a view of what I can only describe as a very perfect, nicely-rounded, well-toned posterior. When you looked up- if you did happen to see me I was the white guy with sunglasses on right in front of the left wing. i kind of raised my eyebrows in a gesture that I instantly regretted as pretty sleazy, but hopefully you didn't notice. You had on a blue shiny swimsuit. We should hang out. I wanted to make contact with you, but it was basically impossible from my seat in the plane. I think you live in Manhattan Beach or something, but it was really hard to tell exactly what "city" we were over. You have brown shoulder-length hair. and it looked like you were reading one of those celebrity magazines, because it had lots of colors like pink on the cover and I think I saw Brad Pitt on there but can't be entirely sure. Obviously I'm not going on personality here, because for all I know you could be kind of bitchy, full of issues, only partially sane, or like one of those girls who only wants me because I produce a TV show, drive a brand-new fully-loaded BMW convertible, and have nearly perfect teeth. Or at least they will be nearly perfect after I finally get this one crown finished this week. It has been a real pain... I had to get a root canal that lasted 4 hours just because I can't catch a damn baseball when the sun's in my eye. So yeah- you might have a terrible personality, or a really annoying nasal laugh, or a psychotic ex-boyfriend. But I'm willing to overlook all that to possibly have a "date" with you. Maybe you can wear that swimsuit on our date? Of course, if you are only 17 or something please do not respond. I am only interested in women over 18 years old, thank you very much. But, say you are like 17 years and 6 months old? Then save this and send me an email right after you turn 18. We can go out for drinks. (non-alcoholic for you of course) Also- since it was hard to tell from the plane--- if you are OVER say 35 then maybe we shouldn't do this. But if it's any consolation you have a very nicely toned body for someone over 35. You obviously must work out. And apparently you don't eat like many of the women I know in their mid-30's, who just CANNOT seem to keep their faces out of a pint of Haagen Daz or a bag of oreos EVERY night. Also please don't expect this to be more than just a one or two-time sexual encounter. If you are incrediblly needy or carry excessive baggage then please just try to keep the drama to a minimum during our "dates" together. I won't mention my overbearing mother or my dog's apparent inability to understand that the appropriate time & place to do his business is NOT right when we are walking by a beautiful woman at the beach. Not right next to her towel. He absolutely HAS to stop doing this. Does he do this to spite me? I won't tell you these type of horror stories if you can keep your drama to a minimum. Also if you are really into numerology, astrology, yoga, veganism, raw foods, or any of those other california lifestyle choices... please just keep it to yourself. I eat meat, smoke, drink too much, smoke pot (not much any more though, as recently it has made me somewhat paranoid. It's much stronger these days than the crappy Mexican stuff we smoked in college. It's like doing acid now. I mean, one puff and you are basically on a different planet) and don't like when self-righteous California do-gooders try to change my life. I don't need the frustration. For my part if the smoking bothers you I will only do it outside, after sex or a satisfying meal. If you are unbearably releigious, like Catholic or born-again Christian or something then PLEASE keep all of that to yourself. I will still be happy to please you sexually, but I don't want to hear about how Jesus has changed your life. I will give you a MUCH more religious experience than your church ever can. If you are Catholic: My experience with Catholic girls is that they ARE incredibly fun in bed once you can convince them to have a few drinks, so if you are Catholic and have repressed sexual desires then I am your guy. But please realize that religion is something made up to control the minds of the weak... and that it is also truly the root of all evil. More people have been killed in the name of Jesus than just about any other cause, so PLEASE get off your horse on this whole thing. And that goes for devout Jews and Muslims too. Your bullshit "god" is not better or bigger than theirs, and you will NOT end up in paradise with a bunch of virgins if you choose to blow yourself up in a mall. Also if you are incredibly conservative and think that George Bush is a great guy then you should definitely keep that to yourself because I will without a doubt have to give you a verbal lashing that will make you regret you ever even heard of Crawford, Texas... A place where this moron we call a president takes month-long vacations and gets into mountain bike accidents while our countrymen die in a poorly-planned and poorly-executed war that has helped plunge the nation into a record national debt of over $500 billion. (And that was a budget SURPLUS of over $250 Billion when Bill Clinton left office!) And don't get me started on gas. You would think there would be at least ONE benefit to having a President who sucks at the teats of the Oil Industry: Cheap Gas! So why the fuck is gas so expensive when Bush has so many cronies in Big Oil and Saudi Arabia? Please, don't get me started. So that's about it. if you are that girl who I flew over in United Flight 120 from New York then please let me know. this is in or around los angeles webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-31T01:36:33-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32515740.html YOU: GIRL BY YOUR POOL IN MANHATTAN BEACH. I WAS ON THE 747 THAT FLEW OVER - m4w text Cyborg in exchange for free rent! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32463774.html I am a biotechnology grad student in search of housing. A back guest house would be perfect. In exchange, I will build you a cyborg. In case you do not know, a cyborg is a biologically based animatronic being, in other words half human and half robot. Since current science is still catching up on this technology, it may be a few years until your cyborg is built. It might help if you had a pet dog or cat that I could practice with. For any reason if you die before the cyborg is finished, I promise to use your remains in the project, in order to fulfill my debt to you. Since you will be the first person to own/be a cyborg, this should be considered a very generous offer. Must have dishwasher in guest house. Please, serious replies only. this is in or around anywhere near LA webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-30T04:16:51-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32463774.html Cyborg in exchange for free rent! text Counter Booty Call Agreement - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32293812.html This pre-booty call agreement (hereinafter referred to as the "Agreement") is entered into on the _____day of __________, 2004, by_______________________ (hereinafter referred to as “Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess”), between ____________and______________. THIS AGREEMENT SHALL COVER THE FOLLOWING RULES AND PRINCIPLES: 1. Calls must be made at least 2 hours prior to the time when the bars close. Anything less will earn you the title of “Inconsiderate Asshole” and your name and contact information will be recorded on the “Wall of Submissive Pleasure” in the Greyhound Bus Terminal Men’s Room. 2. You must arrange for your own transportation and for payment of said transportation. Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess is not picking your drunk ass up from the titty bar or paying for your taxi. 2. Buying [1] drink does not constitute the price of admission into the den of sexual debauchery. Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess is not a six-dollar whore. You must purchase at least a [3] drink minimum. [5] if you're ugly. 3. Do not ask if it’s the biggest Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess has ever seen. You know it’s not. 4. And taking a running start to ram yourself into your partner will not make it seem bigger. 5. Do not demand to be referred to as “Daddy,” “Pappy,” “Papito,” “Father McGinley” or any variation of the aforementioned. The first infraction of this rule will result in a warning; the second will be penalized by an immediate call to your “Mommy” to discuss her son’s aberrant sexual preferences. 6. The use of toys and other accoutrements will be initiated at the discretion of Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess. Any that you bring that you’ve obviously used in some other drunk ho is unacceptable and nasty. 7. Do not bring sentimental gifts. If we really liked and respected you, we wouldn’t have let you come over. 8. Do not pretend to fall asleep when Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess goes into the bathroom to get you a towel to clean up, leaving her to sleep on the wet spot. You will be immediately defenestrated. 9. Do not attempt for a marathon session. Endurance without results is boring and monotonous, and will result in minus 20 points when your performance is round-table analyzed by the girls at brunch the next day. 10. Do not ask us if it was good, or say “That was amazing” to goad us into making a reciprocal statement. If you need to ask, it probably wasn't. 11. Don’t bother saying, “I’ll call you” as you scramble for your clothes as you leave. Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess is already asleep and dreaming about someone whom she actually gives a fuck about. 14. Don't be offended if Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess does not remember your name. In your drunken state, you probably don’t remember it either. 15. You can not help yourself to anything in the fridge. Unless you want to get a bill in the mail. 16. Freshen up before you show up. Boys who stank, get no skank. 17. You will not revise the night’s events to put your prowess in a better light to your circle of acquaintances after the fact. You will tell the truth—that you were too drunk to get it up, that you bit Your Mutherfucking Sex Goddess’ knee thinking it was her clitoris and thought you made her orgasm when she screamed in pain, that you burst into tears for no apparent reason during your sixth attempt at making something happen shortly before you fell off the side of the bed and passed out. And that you left wearing her underwear. The aforementioned rules may only be altered by the holder of the agreement. If the other party attempts to change or alter any terms of this Agreement, it will automatically become null and void and you will then be removed from the BOOTY CALL LIST and deleted from phone memory and email list. In other words, you will be BLOCKED from all communications until your silly ass understands the rules. Participating Party Signature_______________________________________ Date: ________________ Participating Party Signature_______________________________________ Date: ________________ webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-27T16:05:06-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/32293812.html Counter Booty Call Agreement - w4m text