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 2009-09-11T19:36:39-07:00 2 daily Imperfect Pet Owner Seeks Perfect Adopter http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1370262847.html I wanted a pet, so I got one. But I am tired of taking care of it, and paying for it. I might even be moving, in which case I would have to pay a pet deposit or spend an extra 30 seconds planning how to take along my pet. Maybe I decided to have a baby or get a boyfriend (or girlfriend). Anyhow, I don't want my pet anymore. Oh wait, that sounds every bit as selfish as I am. I mean, I can't keep my pet. Yeah, that's it. Oh allergies- YES, I suddenly got allergies. No one will question that. Now about my pet. I've had it since it was a kitten (or pup, or egg if reptilian) and now it's middle aged, the age NO ONE wants to adopt, but didn't you see- I need someone to take care of it. Anyhow, since this process will be very upsetting for my formerly precious pet (and because I may feel an inkling of guilt) I want the adopter to give it a home where there are no other pets, so it doesn't have to share your affections (even though I've been ignoring it for months). Now let me tell you how sweet, lovable, and darling he/she is. Also, allow me to fail to mention that he/she has a urination issue when scared, or he/she eat sofas, etc. Oh, and I think you should pay a fee to show you're capable of buying cat food. And plus I spent money on it 8 years ago and heck I can get a few boxes of diapers for the baby with that cash. Besides, everyone knows that you can tell a person who's taking your pet to be a test lab subject by whether or not they'll shell out $50. If my pet is purebred, I will likely try to charge you hundreds. Because I spend hundreds and this is a very valuable pet. I just don't want it anymore. But YOU should want it enough to help me recoup my original purchase price. Now, I hope you'll take it right to the vet, because he/she is behind on shots. And was never spayed/neutered. And make sure it gets premium food and all the things it deserves, but I am too selfish to even continue to care for it. And remember, this is a commitment- you better not take it and then change your mind ever because only I can do that. Now that I dumped him/her on you, he/she is too traumatized to ever face that again. Last of all, I will now close by telling you that I need this person who takes over my responsibility to come along quickly, because otherwise I *may* have to take him/her to the pound. I probably won't, but that threat is sure to scare someone into hurrying up and taking over my responsibility. <ul> <li> Location: everywhere <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-09-11T19:36:39-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1370262847.html Imperfect Pet Owner Seeks Perfect Adopter text Keyword happy jerks http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1301926277.html I am giving fair warning to all that I will be flagging people who post ads that list ridiculous keywords. I am tired of this shit. I am legitimately looking for a place to live and these posts are getting in the way of my search. I am looking for a specific place to live and your trash ads pop up every time. Obviously, that pisses me off. An example is given below: This ad is for people interested in 1BR, 2BR, 3BR, 4BR, 5BR, 6BR, 7BR, 8 BR, 98112, 98122, 98105, 98103, Capitol Hill, Capital Hill, First Hill, First Hill, Beacon Hill, Queen Anne, Fremont, Wallingford, University District, University of Washington, UW, apartment, condo, bedroom, room, townhouse, U-Village, U-District, Madrona, Laurelhurst, Downtown, Belltown, Leschi, Madison Park, Eastlake, Westlake, Seattle School district, University of Washington, Seattle Pacific University, Garfield High School, Hamilton International Middle School, John Hanford International Elementary, Garfield High School - Accelerated Progress Program for especially gifted students, interstate 5, I5, I-5, 5, I-90, I-405, Hamlin, Roanoke, Eastlake Ave, Fairview Ave, 5th Ave Theatre, University Village, Starbucks, Voxx, Innovative Fitness, Broadway Video, Fairview Park, Gas Works, Whole Foods, Trader Joes, Quick Stop Grocery, Lake Union, Seattle Center, EMP, Seattle Art Museum, Greenlake Golf course, Seattle Center, Queen Anne Pool, Seahawks, Sonics, Microsoft, Amazon, Public Transit, Seattle Streetcar, Sea-Tac, Bellevue, Renton, Auburn, Kirkland, Issaquah, Vancouver, Portland, Spokane, Outback, Red Robin, Harborview Medical Center, Bank of America, Northeast, East of Lake Union, Pacific Place, Nordstrom, Macys, cats, dogs, cat, dog, rabbits, reptiles, birds, pet friendly, new property, YMCA, city hall, Main Street, bus, bus station, train, train station, Amtrak, airport, public library, library, fire station, hospital, police department, night life, nightlife, bar, club, golf, room, 1x1, 2x2, 2x1, laundry, W/D, wd, D/W, dw, I mean, seriously? Whoever posted this should be dragged out into the streets and shot while everyone claps and cheers. So, said poster, you should realize that you are not going to find a tenant unless you stop pulling shit like this. In fact, I stop looking at ads immediately if I see this. I guess some landlords posting on here don’t realize that not only are they placing ad to rent out an apartment but they are also making a first impression on a potential renter. I would not, under any circumstances, want to rent a place from someone who posts and ad like that. You can flag my ad if you want, but I am just trying to be a fair person. I am giving prior warning to the brainless fuckers out there that think it is okay to do things like this. If you flag it, they will not receive this message. Good luck to those of you that are looking for an apartment/house. <ul> <li> Location: Seattle <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-08-02T10:55:29-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1301926277.html Keyword happy jerks text Porn laptop http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1278577164.html I have an older laptop, about 8 years old, it's a blue toshiba. It has a few missing keys and a few scratches, and only about 40 gigs of free space. I got a newer laptop though and I don't need this one. I call it a porn laptop because I'm pretty sure it has a few viruses and stuff, but I still use it for porn. It runs internet pretty fast and I already have about 200 favorites of porn sites saved in my favorites for firefox. It works for porn perfectly, but not big or fast enough for music/video editing or any of that. I wouldn't type any credit card info with it though, like I said it has some viruses and spyware so it's not worth the risk. Great for porn though. So if you just want an extra laptop to sneak in your office that is dedicated just for porn, I got your back. Give me an email, price is negotiable <ul> <li> Location: Renton <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-07-19T19:10:52-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1278577164.html Porn laptop text An Apology To Veterans and Seniors http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1264528443.html I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to two groups of Americans: our military veterans, and all senior citizens who are members of the World War II era, also known as The Greatest Generation. I want to apologize for myself and my generation not doing our part to be more like you. You sacrificed, took risks, did without, and delayed gratification of one sort or another for a cause greater than yourselves. My generation and the rest of the American population has been rather cowardly when it comes to defending our liberties. Not that we have not had plenty volunteer for military service, because we have. Our cowardice has been in not standing up to our own government's weakness, deceit, and manipulation. You see, we have now endured several "wars" which have been pathetic, at best. Not the actions of our soldiers, but the actions of our government and the inaction of our citizens. Most recently, by my count, we have been "at war" for nearly a decade. But honestly, we are not a nation "at war". We are not doing without. We are not stopping our lives to band together, uniting against a common enemy foreign or domestic, fighting to win at all costs, while demanding that our soldiers and citizens be kept out of harm's way unless absolutely necessary. What have we sacrificed to get the ugly job done, whatever the goal is? Where is the sugar rationing? Where is the rubber shortage? Where is the shortage of workers when all available men have gone off to do difficult but necessary tasks? There is no Rosie the Riveter here. Instead, we are told to keep showing up at our cubicles each weekday, and at the malls on weekends. Keep shopping. Keep refinancing our mortgages. And keep watching the war on TV. We are a rich nation of 300 million people, and we cannot win and end a war? We cannot catch, imprison, or kill our enemy once and for all? We cannot be done with ugly, tragic, and expensive actions and get on with being a kinder, gentler nation? If we were truly "at war", we could achieve this end in 1 day. What a ridiculous scam. And we fell for it, voted for it, sat by and watched it happen. We lined up like patriotic lemmings with flags on our lapels and allowed groups of privileged men to orchestrate a never-ending series of wars, while most of them NEVER went to war, let alone served their country in uniform. We allowed them to repeatedly install, train, and fund villains that we trembled in fear of, like the boogie man under our bed. Red enemies, yellow enemies, and now anyone tan or with a turban on. I am not a veteran, so I cannot speak as if I am any better than other non-veterans. But how ironic, that when these ChickenHawks had the opportunity to actually BE in one of those wars they so eagerly send our sons and daughters off to die in, they "had other priorities." Someone aspiring to be Commander-In-Chief chose to serve 4 years of a 6 year enlistment in a stateside National Guard unit, and somehow took a few years leave after that. Second in command claimed marriage as his out. One received seven deferments by teaching business school. Another used his religion's "study abroad" requirement to escape service. Yet another dodged the draft by enrolling in college acting classes. One had a terrible knee, but somehow was able to keep playing in the NFL for 8 more seasons. The cream of this crop had a cyst on his bottom that prevented him from heroic duty. And there are hundreds more. As detestable as this is to me, I must say I am even more ashamed of our apathy in not defending our own soldiers and citizens from harm. We sit idly by and allow paper warriors to wrap themselves in our sacred flag, shouting out like bullhorns and rattling the sabers of vengeance. We send soldiers into "wars" without enough armor, no clear and definable goal, and no national courage to actually use our might to bring the war to a quick and absolute end. We give up some liberties for our common security, only to allow it to be used to snoop on political enemies. Elderly widows are frisked at the airport to show how serious we are about "homeland security", while the majority of cargo luggage, out of public view, skates through unexamined. We buy the sham, and keep buying those luxury goods and services. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Those who stand up and call the charlatans to the carpet are questioned as unpatriotic. Why is that? Why is it that the folks fighting AGAINST wars and the folks FIGHTING wars are divided? Why are those who protest wars, and those with loved ones carelessly tossed to the dogs of war, are shouting at each other from opposite sides of the street? Why are they not on the same side, there is plenty of room on that curb. We could use a few more radicals at Support The Troops rallies, and a few more moms of soldiers at war protests. Why do we so easily succumb to the "divide and conquer" wedges of class, race, and religion? Our voluntary duping, apathy, and lemming-like acquiescence to this manipulation is something I have not done my part to rail against, either. I have been too busy consuming, getting, living it up. Certainly not sacrificing. It is embarrassing. Shameful. For that, Greatest Generation and all American veterans, you have my sincere apology. I should have been protecting and looking out for you the way you have protected me. I am relieved that my father and his father are not alive to see this dereliction of civic duty and sorry state of affairs. I am just sorry we did not wait until the rest of The Greatest Generation had passed on, before falling so short of their example. First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out-- because I was not a communist; Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out-- because I was not a socialist; Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out-- because I was not a trade unionist; Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out-- because I was not a Jew; Then they came for me-- and there was no one left to speak out for me. - Martin Niemoeller, 1946 <ul> <li> Location: USA <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-07-11T08:29:16-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1264528443.html An Apology To Veterans and Seniors text Strapping Older Biker - m4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1263727999.html I was making a left hand turn off exit 189 in my delicious red F250 which happens to have what’s left of its exhaust system duct taped to the frame. You ignored my crusty, yet functional, turn signal which frantically flashed its heart out. I cut you off in traffic, and you proceeded to pull out your bifocal reading glasses from your leathers and, after locating the correct button, toot that adorable horn of yours. As I navigated my backfiring rust-bucket into the left hand turn lane for the Everett Mall Way, you stopped and tried to share your passionate love for me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of how awesome your motorcycle was, and the sound of my misfiring 4.9L 6 cylinder engine. CCR's “Traveling Band” was playing on my dreadful stock ford radio. After you blocked traffic, taking nearly a minute out of your time to profess your love to me and my passenger, I gave you a thumbs-up sign, you mouthed "Fuck You", then you proceeded to cut off at least 30 cars as you cut into the right hand turn lane toward Broadway. I think we really hit it off, I felt a strong connection... although I didn’t catch half of the conversation. The idea of your beautiful machine getting wadded up underneath my leaking rear end totally gets me turned on. If you wish to rub bumpers, maybe even share a bit of paint between us, give me a honk and a nudge. <ul> <li> Location: Everett <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-07-10T16:19:47-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1263727999.html Strapping Older Biker - m4m text 10 YEARS AGO AT THE HUMANE SOCIETY http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1226773949.html Ten years ago, in tears, you turned your beloved dog over to the Bellevue Humane Society. You had to move and your 3 year old dog could not go with you. The workers said that you (a man) cried as you left her there. You even told the folks at the humane society that she was half chow, half lab...One look at this fuzzy brindle pooch and you knew there was no such thing as a brindle chow OR lab..but there are brindle pitbulls...with a pit face, funny looking tiger stripes and lots of fur, I'm certain you thought this was going to be the end of the line for her. What you need to know is that my best friend adopted her. My friend called me and said, "now, you have to get past her looks...she REALLY is sweet." Sure enough, she was sweet and for the next 10 years of her life lived the life you had hoped she would have. Her life was filled with swims, playmates, early morning walks, car rides, hikes and lots of love. She died in her bereaved owner's arms last Saturday, succumbing to the affects of advanced liver disease. When she was adopted, it was obvious she had been loved and cared for..impeccible manners, good basic training and she really wanted to please. I hope you see this post so that you know that you did the right thing in surrendering her and can stop wondering. She lived the life she deserved. <ul> <li> Location: Bellevue <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-06-17T15:38:19-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1226773949.html 10 YEARS AGO AT THE HUMANE SOCIETY text Seriously? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1222246465.html Craigslist is a great resource if you want to buy a car or a boat. It's also great for random and inexplicable things like a large ball of lint or 1,700 assorted door hinges, but it seems sadly lacking content in the pet department. Craigslist, in general, seems a lot like what I imagine a trading post would've been like in the 1880s; Lewis and Clark trading for pick axes and machetes while Aunt Bee sells slices of pie to prospectors who are there looking for blah blah blah. But the pets section of Craigslist is completely different. It's more like Lord of the Flies; the adults are all dead and the only people left are either crazy or sadistic children. I looked on this page earlier because I was thinking about getting a dog. I like dogs. I grew up with dogs. I like the brown ones. I figured I'd look at some pictures of dogs and pick one out. Nope. For the fourteen gazillion posts on this page, 99% of them can be categorized as either; bizarre pets like marmots or naked mole rats, crazy people arguing the pros and cons of specific breeds of dogs that didn't exist when I was a kid (Really, miniature Chihuahua? How much smaller do they need to get before you run the risk of accidentally inhaling one? And just who the fuck came up with "Labradoodle"? Josef Mengele?), people with 5th grade writing ability correcting the people with 3rd grade writing ability or people I don't know showing me pictures of their dog (Here's a tip: Just because you give it a cutesy-sounding title like "Show and Tail" doesn't make your ad any less annoying to total strangers. It's like pictures of someone else's vacation, you don't really give a shit). The long and short of it is; there might be a nice dog here that would be a good fit for me, but I'll never know because I got tired of reading all this garbage. If I want a dog, I'll just go down to the pound and pick one out. Most of the posts on this page belong in "Rants and Raves" (including this one). Bye, crazy people. <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-06-15T07:05:32-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1222246465.html Seriously? text A few things from the bike shop. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1192150038.html Whoo-hoo Seattle, the sun is out! Let's discuss a few things before you fumble with swapping the unused ski rack for the unused bike rack on the Subaru. So yes, you've noticed the sun is out, and hey!- maybe it would be cool to to some bike riding. Let's keep in mind that the sun came out of all 600,000 of us, so for the most part, you're not the only one who noticed. Please remember that when you walk into my shop on a bright, sunny Saturday morning. It will save you from looking like a complete twat that huffs "Why are there so many people here?" Are we all on the same page now about it being sunny outside? Have we all figured out that we're not the only clever people that feel sunny days are good for bike riding? Great. I want to kiss all of you on your forehead for sharing this moment with me. Put your vitamin D starved fingers in mine, and we'll move on together to some pointers that will make life easier. SOME POINTERS FOR THE PHONE: - I don't know what size of bike you need. The only thing that I can tell over the phone is that you sound fat. I don't care how tall you are. I don't care how long your inseam is. Don't complain to me that you don't want to come ALL THE WAY down to the bike shop to get fitted for a bike. I have two hundred bikes in my inventory. I will find one that fits you. Whether you come from the north or the south, my shop is downhill. Pretend you're going to smell a fart, ball up, and roll your fat ass down here. - Don't get high and call me. Write it down, call me later. When I have four phone lines ringing, and a herdlet of people waiting for help, I can't deal with you sitting there "uuuuhhh"-ing and "uuummm"-ing while your brain tries to put together some cheeto-xbox-fixie conundrum. We didn't get disconnected, I left you on hold to figure your shit out. -I really do need to see your bike to know what is wrong with it. You've already figured out that when you car makes a noise, the mechanic needs to see it. When your TV goes blank, a technician needs to see it. I can tell you, if there is one thing I've learned from you fucking squirrels, it's that "doesn't shift right" means your bike could need a slight cable adjustment, or you might just need to stop backing into it with the Subaru. Bring it in, I'll let you know for sure. - No, I don't know how much a good bike costs. For some, spending $500 dollars is a kingly sum. For others, $500 won't buy you one good wheel. You really need to have an idea of what you want, because every one of you raccoons "doesn't want to spend too much". FOR YOU INVENTIVE TYPES AND DO-IT-YOURSELFERS: - Just because you think is should exist, doesn't mean that it does. I know that to you, a 14 inch quill stem makes perfect sense, but what makes more sense is buying a bike that fits you, not trying to make your mountain bike that was too small for you to begin with into a comfort bike. - If some twat on some message board somewhere says that you can use the lockring from your bottom bracket as a lockring for a fixie conversion doesn't mean that A: you can, or B: you should. Please listen to me on this stuff, I really do have your best interests at heart. - I love that you have the enthusiasm to build yourself a recumbent in the off season. That does not mean however, that I share your enthusiasm; ergo I won't do the "final tweaks" for you. You figure out why that Sram shifter and that Shimano rear derailleur don't work together. While we're at it, you recumbent people scare me a little. Don't bring that lumbering fucking thing anywhere near me. A DEDICATION TO ALL THE HIPSTER DUCHEBAGS: -If you shitheads had any money, you wouldn't NEED a vintage Poo-zhow to get laid. Go have an ironic mustache growing contest in front of American Apparel, so that I can continue selling $300 bikes to fatties, which is what keeps the lights on. - Being made in the 80's may make something cool, but that doesn't automatically make something good. The reason that no one has ridden that "vintage" Murray is because it's shit. It was shit in the 80's, a trend it carried proudly through the 90's, and rallied with into the '00's. What I mean to say is, no, I can't make it work better. It's still shit, even with more air in the tires. SO YOU'RE GONNA BUY A BIKE: Good for you! Biking is awesome. It's easy, it's fun, it's good for you. I want you to bike, I really do. To that end, I am here to help you. -Your co-worker that's "really into biking" knows fuck all. Stop asking for his advice. He could care less about you having the right bike. He wants to validate his bike purchase(s) through you. He also wants to sleep with you, and wear matching bike shorts with you. - You're not a triathlete. You're not. If you were, you wouldn't be here, and we both know it. - You're not a racer. If you were, I'd know you already, and you wouldn't be here, and we both know it. - So you want a bike that you can ride to work, goes really fast, is good for that triathlon you're doing this summer (snicker), is good on trails and mud, and costs less than $300. Yeah. Listen, I want a car that can go 200 miles an hour, tow a boat, has room for five adults, is easy to parallel park but can carry plywood, gets 60mpg, and only costs $3,000. I also want a unicorn to blow me. What are we even talking about here? Oh yeah. Listen, bikes can be fast, light, cheap and comfortable. Pick two, and we're all good. ABOUT YOUR KIDS: Your kids are amazing. Sure are. No one else has kids as smart, able, funny or as good looking as you. Nope. Never see THAT around here. - I have no idea how long you kid will be able to use this bike. As it seems to me, your precious is a little retarded, and can't even use the damn thing now. More likely, your budding genius is going to leave the bike in the driveway where you will Subaru the bike to death LONG before the nose picker outgrows the bike. - Stop being so jumpy. I am not a molester. You people REALLY watch too much TV. When I hold the back of the bike while your kid is on it, it's not because I get a thrill from *almost* having my hand on kid butt, it's because kids are unpredictable, and generally take off whenever possible, usually not in the direction you think they might go. Listen, if I were going to do anything bad to your kids, I'd feed them to sharks, because sharks are FUCKING AWESOME. I hope this helps, and have fun this summer riding your kick-ass bike! <ul> <li> Location: Seattle <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-05-27T16:05:12-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1192150038.html A few things from the bike shop. text Mow our lawn for a date! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1181466826.html Hey boys… ‘tis the season for lawn mowing and new love. These are the only two things missing in my life. First order of the business: the lawn. Our small front lawn, and largish back lawn have grown out of control after all the rain we have had as of late. It’s about 1.5 feet tall, and growing taller by the second. We are four lovely ladies lacking a lawn mower. This is where you come in. Second order of business: you and me. I’m a sexy young 20 something lady offering a date (my treat) in exchange for a mowed lawn. We will also offer homemade baked goods to sweeten the deal. However this lawn may be more than you can handle alone. For this reason, my sultry single roommate has graciously agreed to offer the same deal for your friend who helps you out with the task. Let’s go on a double date! You are also welcome to mow the lawn on your own, and pick a lucky friend to come on the date. Who knows, maybe one date could turn into two (lawn mowing optional *wink wink*) Serious inquiries only, we need this lawn mowed, BYOLawnMower!!! No photos of your weedwhacker please. <ul> <li> Location: Eastside <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-05-20T22:45:36-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1181466826.html Mow our lawn for a date! text F*** my job, super-fantastic moving sale/travel fundraiser bonanza! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1173373432.html <h1>Everything must go...even my Festivus pole...</h1> I've had enough...corporate rat race, high rent, car payments, suicidal traffic...I want out, and I don't want to wait until I'm 65 to retire (maybe, if all goes 'well') just so I can get on a cruise ship with a bunch of 65 year old retirees (no offence to any 65 year olds or retirees). So, I'm "thinking outside the box" and selling everything I own (almost), quitting my high paying yet soul destroying job, cashing out my (meager) investments and traveling the world now, while I'm still young enough to enjoy it...before I bludgeon myself to death with an unresponsive laptop. I might be out of my mind (I'm pretty sure my mom thinks I am), but that doesn't mean you can't buy my stuff at a super-fantastic price. Even if you don't really need a particular item, you can buy it just because you want to help a fellow human escape. If you're feeling especially generous, you could even pay more than I'm asking for something or just donate cash outright. Either one is okay. :-) Please email me if you have any questions or to arrange pick up. If you'd like to see anything that isn't pictured below, just let me know and I can send you a picture via email. I have a few more things that I'll be adding over the next couple of days as well, including my 2007 Saturn Vue Hybrid with just over 16k miles. <h2>Living Room</h2> <ul> <li>SOLD - $650 - IKEA Kramfors Leather Loveseat and Footstool</li> <li> $450 - Chaise, contemporary black leather, IKEA Kramfors (retails for $699.99 - <a href="http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/30074122" target="_blank">http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/30074122</a>)</li> <li> $200 - Recliner, contemporary black leather, matching footstool, see picture below (~$400 retail) <li> SOLD - $40 - 1 low profile sideboard/bookshelf things (see picture below), IKEA (i think), black, locking castors</li> <li> HOLDING - $40 - 1 low profile sideboard/bookshelf things (see picture below), IKEA (i think), black, locking castors </li> <li> HOLDING - $50 - area rug, 8' x 5', Jute, indigo blue -- It’s from Target, and <a href="http://www.target.com/Thomas-O%E2%80%99Brien-Jute-Rug-Rectangle/dp/B0009JVJ9I/qid=1242511541/ref=br_1_4/180-1994002-2476145?ie=UTF8&node=14302831&frombrowse=1&pricerange=&index=tgt-mf-mv&field-browse=14302831&rank=pmrank&rh=&page=3" target="_blank">here is their listing</a> for it including pictures.</li> <li> $40 - Art (green and yellow bamboo, see picture) - $15 each or $40 for all 3 (retailed for $30 each)</li> <li> SOLD - $40 - floor lamp combo with torch and reading lamp, contemporary stainless steel </li> <li> SOLD - $30 - 3 IKEA Nesting Tables</li> <li> SOLD (to a beautiful girl from Wisconsin) $30 - Art (blue, see picture below, IKEA retailed for $60+)</li> <li> $12 - 3 matching throw pillows (gray, blue, olive, beige, wide stripes) - $5 each, $12 for all 3</li> <li> $10 - Storage cube/end table, Target, dark brown wood <li> $10 - 2 TV stands - $10 each</li> <li> TAKEN (by one man...with the strength of 10)- Free - 36" Sony Trinitron TV (You will need to move it yourself, and it is heavy. I would guess it’s about 200 – 225 lbs., and I live on a 3rd floor walk-up on Queen Anne Ave., unfortunately. Two strong men could manage, but a good dolly with straps will be essential and a third person would definitely help. There is a loading zone directly in front of the building.)</li> </ul> <h2>Bedroom</h2> <ul> <li> HOLDING - $115 - Danish Modern Dresser ( 54" L x 18" D x 25" H + 6" legs -- solid wood, not sure which type, dovetail drawers, laminate, non-scratch top)</li> <li> SOLD - $85- Bose Wave Radio Alarm Clock, Vintage First Generation, beige, very small remote control, no CD player but does have AUX hookups, absolutely amazing sound!</li> <li> SOLD - $5 - very basic wood nightstand, black paint, one drawer</li> </ul> <h2>Home Office</h2> <ul> <li> $300 - Acer Aspire One ZG5 UMPC Netbook, 8.9" screen, 8GB SSD, RAM upgraded to 1.5GB, Windows XP Home SP3, micro Bluetooth dongle, hard acrylic case, soft foam case, 3 cell battery (~2.5 hrs) and 9 cell battery (~7.5 hrs) -- it looks just like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Guang_Hua_Digital_Plaza_Launch_Acer_Aspire_One.jpg" target="_blank">this one</a>, but it's black.</li> <li> $30 - Dell 926 All in One Printer, Copier, Scanner (retails for $100, <a href="http://reviews.cnet.com/multifunction-devices/photo-all-in-one/4505-3181_7-32458883.html" target="_blank">lackluster CNET review</a>...but it works fine for me)</li> <li> SOLD - $20 - Black, metal, 2 drawer filing cabinet</li> <li> $20 - Hole Punch, Stapler, Paper Clip Holder, Tape Dispenser, In and Out baskets, Pen - Pencil - Note Organizer</li> <li> $15 - APC Back-UPS 300</li> <li> $10 - White board (~ 3' x 2')</li> <li> $10 - Waste Basket, silver, metal mesh</li> <li> SOLD - $5 - Small (~3" diam.) USB powered plasma ball</li> </ul> <h2>Kitchen</h2> <ul> <li> SOLD - $20 - Oster toaster oven, white - <a href="http://www.oster.com/ProductCategory.aspx?mpcid=17&cname=Toaster%20Ovens&cid=1545&pid=1412" target="_blank">this one</a></li> <li> $18 - Cuisinart Two to Go Coffee Maker (retails for $40 - <a href="http://www.cuisinart.com/catalog/product.php?product_id=11&item_id=28&cat_id=3" target="_blank">http://www.cuisinart.com/catalog/product.php?product_id=11&item_id=28&cat_id=3</a>)</li> <li>SOLD - $5 - cast iron grill pan</li> <li> $5 - Thermos Carafe (~1 litre)</li> </ul> <h2>Miscellaneous</h2> <ul> <li>SOLD - $90 - Samick LW 015 Acoustic Guitar with case, cheap tuner, metronome, string changing tool, and a few beginning and intermediate guitar books</li> <li> $30 - Ultrasonic humidifier</li> <li> $30 - Dirt Devil upright vacuum cleaner</li> <li> $20 - 1 bad ass steel Festivus pole (7' x 5.25" circumfrence), no tinsel</li> <li> $15 - good ironing board with heavy duty, commercial grade cover, little use</li> <li> SOLD - $15 - T-Fal Ultraglide Diffusion 1759 Iron - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/T-Fal-1759-Ultraglide-Diffusion-Shut-Off/dp/B0000AFWZ4" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/T-Fal-1759-Ultraglide-Diffusion-Shut-Off/dp/B0000AFWZ4</a></li> <li> SOLD - $10 - 2 candle holders and 2 large candles (seen in picture of dresser below)</li> <li> SOLD - $7 - Huge Ice Cooler, blue w/ white lid</li> <li> $5 - 2 CD stands - $5 each</li> <li> $5 - black metal plant stand (under gray pot in picture of chair below)</li> <li> $5 - various house plants $1 - $5 each (2 pictured with chair below)</li> </ul> <h2>Donations</h2> The sky is the limit here folks! :-) Whatever you feel like giving is good with me. I can accept cash, check, or paypal donations. All proceeds will be spent funding my indefinite trip around the world. :-) <a href="http://www.statcounter.com/free_hit_counter.html" target="_blank"><img src="http://c.statcounter.com/4748166/0/1726d563/0/" border="0"></a> <a href="http://my.statcounter.com/project/standard/stats.php?project_id=4748166&guest=1" target="_blank">View My Stats</a> <ul> <li> Location: Queen Anne <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-05-15T22:14:48-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1173373432.html F*** my job, super-fantastic moving sale/travel fundraiser bonanza! text STOP THE KEYWORD ABUSE!!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1156764465.html Okay. I understand that you want to sell your stuff. It's understandable that you would want your ad to reach the most people possible, but enough is enough! I'm looking for a set of HID lights. JUST A SET OF HID LIGHTS! Not a rental fender roller! Not window tinting! Not your set of ROTA Slipstreams. (I'm sure they're really cool though) I don't own an EVO, so that carbon fiber wing will just have to wait. Although it's cool, I wasn't looking for your Nintendo-painted valve cover either! I'm also pretty convinced that my CRX won't take your Dodge full size aftermarket chrome fender trim, but if you want to try to make it work............... Please, just go with the flow! Stop trying to buck the system. Take the time to edit your keyword lists so they might actually attract the kind of buyers you need! You can spam the hell out of the whole world with your B-Series turbo kit, but that won't mean that the guy looking for a fender will suddenly decide that your stuff will work on his Ford Thunderbird! Your ads are why CL made the little "flag this post" button. You're spam. Pure and simple. Back off a little and think about your customer base. It might save you some time re-posting, and it'll definitely save the rest of time wading through ads that have nothing to do with what we're trying to find. I can think of too many ways I'd rather be spending my time. PEACE! keywords: acura integra, monkey, ls, keyboard, gsr, spoonzilla, type r, pollute, blades, rabid chipmunk, rota, balloon, rotas, craptastic, rims, twinkie, oem wheels, oem boobjob, civic, civic responsibility, hatchback, kickback, DC, AC, EG, ergo, EK, Elk, del sol, del puta, si, no, civic, again?, jdm, always, accord, flamethrower, enkei, dinky, rota, blasto!, gsr, again again?, b18,k20,every Honda engine ever produced, integra typer ,16J, what's that?, DM ,jdm honda, hatch, rota, MORE ROTAS! slips, slops, slipstreams, sloppybeans, circuit , ground fault, 10 track, 8-track, r j mag si, kidney farmer, webs, spiders, fresh , as a day in May, clean turbo, dirty downpipe, And now for every car manufacturer to ever foist a car on the US market!!!, civic,itr,ctr honda acura saturn kia bmw nissian vw chevy ford toyota civic crx accord s2000 si sir , Don't forget every kind of Honda ever produced!, type r ef eg ek ex dx lx hx coupe sedan hatch hatchback integra rsx 2 3 4 door 2dr 3dr 4dr lug lugs AND EVERY YEAR SINCE 1980!!! 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 (WHEW!) ........More parts ahead!, rim rims wheel wheels tire tires eagle racing alloy chrome shine slick slicks slip slips slipstream ls webs mesh rota, ROTAS ARE POPULAR! Now for every conceiveable color!!! white black blue red yellow green purple pink aftermarket ebay stock new used (Got em both! My stuff's both new and used!) Now for more Honda engines!, b d series b15 b16 b18 d15 d16 d20 y6 y7 y8 z6 swap mini-me conversion NOW FOR MORE CAR PARTS, BECAUSE IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR ONE PART, YOU DEFINITELY NEED TO LOOK AT MINE!!!, transmission engine , pickle, motor, what kind of pickle?, block, I think it was a garlic dill, head headers, Are they sliced thin for my sandwitch? manifold alternator, No Man. They're the little ones, distributor ignition, Forget it then. I need mine sliced. throttle throttlebody, You know what you are. You're a pickle snob. body down pipe, Maybe, but at least I know what I like. Life's too short to be disappointed by an uncut pickle, piping exhaust, Yeah, that's what your Mom said too. muffler axel cat, Ohhh!!!, catback headlight, peanut, tail light hood, hang-a-fang, fender, aloha grill grille spliin bumper door panel boss's boss's boss will fire you, trunk lid, fine wine, lip window tint, fine women, plastic arm rest, hot babes, dash cluster gauge gauges, ugly ones too, indiglo indeglo indiglow vtec v-tec , vee tekkk, vtech v-tech , felt-lined, turbo wiring harness ball bearing, repeated word cause I just copied and pasted another spammed-out ads keywords, cold air intake filter spark, more damn car parts, plug plugs, ROUS, radiator intercooler ctr itr, What the hell is a ROUS? jdm oem mugen hid hids bright, rodents of unusual size! halogen, still not givin up! smoke smoked housing tire tires tired of the keywords greddy apexi strut, You're gonna buy my shit!!!, bar rear upper lower front suspension brake brakes shock springs, look at me Mom! I can fly!!! coilover coilovers coil over wing duck bill fin mid carbon fiber mugen vavle cover integra dc2 eg ej ek em dc5 honda oem vavle cover red Good Lord. <ul> <li> Location: Auto Parts Listings <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-05-05T20:53:54-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1156764465.html STOP THE KEYWORD ABUSE!!! text How 2 Ikea trestles will fill your life with excitement http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1140298129.html Trestles: Boring wooden A-frame support structures, right? WRONG! More like support structures for exciting people!!! Most people think trestles are only good for a table or desk. Well guess what? MOST PEOPLE ARE WRONG!!! 1. Imagine Shawn Johnson's chagrin when you bring home gold at the 2012 Olympics - simply from practicing the parallel bars on two trestles!!! <img src="http://5hcqxw.blu.livefilestore.com/y1pVfcpnUb9blmyv4mePBmdz47jjw3l2oy8D3ddJXdkX02rMf7V8dDV6-xkST6UPhcOwdj33-k3S9db7UC_YQOUr1npi14NZNMV/gymnastics.jpg"> 2. Or think about the awesome forts you (or your kids) will make. Teatime with Big Bear and the gang will never be the same!!! <img src="http://5hcqxw.blu.livefilestore.com/y1p7JZT92vs5yzpUkrvIz8bM5KeNe4QY378NzFmLwpW2P5SZVbmCnkOMEnIzDd-cuzyl2bBn8ntgU4N3CDDAwuNqiGaZcRPL6Iv/fort.jpg"> 3. Did someone say strength training? Get rock solid abs in 30 days with the 2-trestle Xtreme Workout!!! <img src="http://5hcqxw.blu.livefilestore.com/y1pCG8vgdJXKpIMzb54jZfVh7DBAIc4E9qkWZpUY9ijOQH-Kgg34lSKaYXaNdGuHWajaXVH82h5gbwyvVeXF9RMMgZHitXd0doU/workout.jpg"> 4. Company coming over for the weekend? Give them a very uncomfortable and potentially dangerous sleeping arrangement: two trestles and a mattress!!! (I don't actually recommend doing this.) <img src="http://5hcqxw.blu.livefilestore.com/y1pCG8vgdJXKpIGef78e5bqnEdEozkXNZIXkb-v4d79Fcu5JtVi_1eFRACB8YYQaNdQf9AftjCG2ew85rO7jRkcXnxRFrsDLdb5/bed.jpg"> TRUE STORY: These trestles supported my desk when I went to school. I graduated with honours. Coincidence? I DON'T THINK SO!!! <img src="http://5hcqxw.blu.livefilestore.com/y1prXjOKCs6wal3optWkNYPW51uhPa4sziRpq5QTht0t7sux5ELgkm_baYjV0w-aTXQ-CsNEKGDzsBS6saA8ijV_gr76xGgx5vh/success.jpg"> Slap boredom in the face with a pair of trestles and make your life exciting!!! $50 for 2!!! YOU: "Wait a minute, doesn't Ikea sell them for $30 each? That would be $65.40 (tax incl.) for 2. That's not much of a deal." ME: "Sure, but now you don't have to go to Ikea!!! You can even take them home on the bus!!! And you just read a really entertaining advertisment!!! Or make me a better offer!!!" <ul> <li> Location: Capitol Hill <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-04-25T18:11:38-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1140298129.html How 2 Ikea trestles will fill your life with excitement text You Want the Table? You Can't Handle the Table! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1139643671.html It's big, heavy, and ugly. You can't kill it; you can't even frighten it. It's 6X3X3 feet tall, with two tiers and three drawers that work. It's sheet metal and angle iron, welded together with testosterone. Run a monster truck over it. Tape explosives to it. Launch it a quarter mile with a (big) trebuchet. Play the Anvil Chorus on it with sledgehammers for an hour. It will mock you. I'm a beaten man. Just get it out of my garage. Bring your friends <ul> <li> Location: Woodmont <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-04-25T10:02:24-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1139643671.html You Want the Table? You Can't Handle the Table! text wanting a lactating specialist. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1119633683.html I would like to begin producing milk again. I understand what is involved and need the help of someone that can commit to 4 days a week, one hour a day,,, 6:00am to 7:00am, monday through thursday. I need someone that can suckle 15 minutes on each side. I am not seeking a sex partner.. I don;t want to give it out or get it.. got it.. just someone that is willing to suck on my breasts for about a half an hour every morning. I need at least a one week commitment and am looking for more than one person as i understand this is actually more work than it seems. I am presently pumping a few times a day and manualy manipulating my nipples when I can't pump. I am not lactating presently so please, if you are expecting to drink, its not happening yet. Please only serious apply... and please be in your 40's.. I am uncomfortable with people that aren't my age. <ul> <li> Location: pierce county <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-04-12T23:15:53-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1119633683.html wanting a lactating specialist. text Rare vintage pimp cup. This thing is amazing. Holy crap. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1118182324.html Will change your life. Has been passed down from pimp to pimp for generations. Currently being used as a ash tray and/or extremely inaccurate rain gauge. Slight damage from general day-to-day pimping. <img src="1118182324.jpg"> <ul> <li> Location: Seattle, Queen Anne <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-04-11T16:37:59-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1118182324.html Rare vintage pimp cup. This thing is amazing. Holy crap. text Calling all desperate, loser schlubs http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1117111472.html Are you a loser, aged 37-50? Are you a lonely, pathetic schlub who can't get any closer to a woman than a 900 number? Do you despair of having a woman speak to you respectfully, let alone date you or touch you? Well, sugar, it's your lucky night. Because a respectable, clean, intelligent, independent, witty, financially secure woman who is fed up with trying to get the attention of respectable, clean, intelligent, independent, witty, financially secure men will seriously consider your offer. Pretty boys, frat brats, software millionaires, endlessly self-promoting Micronerds, salsa-dancing midlife-crisis-clinic navel-gazers, self-obsessed Mountaineers, Dockers-clad Boeing bores, aging hipsters who masturbate to their own blogs...step off, back of the yellow line! Make way for the humble, the beer-gutted, the morbidly obese, the mulleted, the untouchable, the harijans, the rejected! You are my kind of men; you, the repulsive, the socially retarded, are my brothers from another mother. Don't tell Suze Orman, but this 38-year-old fat chick is putting herself on sale. That's right! In this special offer, I'm lowering my standards to the floor. Apparently, because I'm fat (see picture below), I'm not worth even a polite response from men, let alone a date. I've tried and TRIED to get the attention of men who are my social peers, men I know from work, men I see at church, men with whom I attended school. No dice! Silly moi, thinking I'm good enough for the men I'm surrounded by every day -- when in fact, they deserve lingerie models or mail-order brides who are half their ages. Hey, I just got rejected (by non-response followed by avoidance, no less) by a fat, clumsy slob who comes to work looking like he sleeps in his clothes...but I guess because he's got a job, he's out of my league, and deserves his very own Victoria's Secret catalog model. Oh, the poor thing, having the office fat chick e-mail him! How perfectly dreadful! He must have been so embarrassed. So I'm moving on...down. Bitter, party of one, your table is SERIOUSLY ready. Nice guys, guys without criminal records, guys without drug habits, guys who read, guys who don't live with their mothers -- yes, all TOO GOOD for me! Come and get it, all ye desperate and lonely, ye self-destructive and miserable, ye of rock-bottom self-esteem. My only criteria: <ul><li>You bathe</li> <li>You express yourself well, in English.</li> <li>You don't have kids</li> <li>You're aged 37-50</li> <li>You live in Washington State</li></ul> That's it! Come to mama, all ye who can't get a date, all ye who would settle for a relationship with any woman who isn't incarcerated, all ye who would be so grateful for some female companionship that you're willing to overlook the fact that your partner weighs 190 lbs. Tell me why women won't even treat you like a human being with feelings. Really, I want to read this. Because I know what it's like. I know what it's like to be a vibrant, vivid, engaging, intelligent person who gets treated like a f*cking piece of vermin-infested furniture because she's overweight. <ul> <li> Location: AlongtheCedarRiver <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-04-10T22:43:52-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1117111472.html Calling all desperate, loser schlubs text RnR: An Introductory User's Guide http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1051946364.html Welcome, friend, to Craigslist Rants and Raves! This stretch of the “information superhighway” may seem a little overwhelming at first. However, with these easy-to-follow instructions, you'll soon be able to <s>waste</s> enjoy many hours here, without any effort at all! Ready to start? Okay, let's buckle-up, turn your blinker on and merge into traffic. <big><big>1) Your First Post</big></big> Let's start by creating and sending a simple post. <blockquote>Subj: Hi Everyone! Sure is a swell day today! I'm new, and I sure look forward to making some super-duper friends! Well, gotta go for now. Bye!</blockquote> You may be asking if the slang term “gotta” is correct here. Actually, the use of slang and vernacular terms is not only accepted, but often encouraged. You should consider adding some slang terms to your posts now and again to show that you're not “square”. After a few minutes, you'll notice some posts entitled “re: Hi Everyone!” These are from other people responding to your post. Pretty cool, eh? Remember how we said that slang is encouraged? Well, the terms “Fucking Douchebag” and “Cum-guzzling Dipshit” are just hip urban slang for “partner” and “buddy”, and these people are welcoming you, in their hip urban way, to the board. It's like a whole new language to explore! <big><big>2) Who Are These People?</big></big> To really appreciate RnR, you need to understand who is on the other end of the computer connection. So, who are these people? Well, they're people just like you, only less intelligent, less informed, and less civilized. Pretty much the scum of the earth. Since there are no requirements to use the site, anyone with a computer and Internet access can post. This includes <blockquote>- child-murderers posting from the prison library - crack addicts - life-long alcoholics - serial sex offenders - pimps - the criminally insane - 4th-grade dropouts</blockquote> and the list goes on. Everyone on the south side of a 100 IQ or who has ever been convicted of a felony can (and does) post here. Fun Fact - Many people are not aware that RnR was added to Craigslist only after the founders were convinced by law enforcement officials that it would be an inexpensive way to keep sociopaths in front of their computer screens and off the streets. That's using your noggin', Craig! <big><big>3) Who is “The Red Fox”?</big></big> Some people don't have personalities in the real world, so they try to create them here. These people are mostly harmless and in fact provide a useful service by conveniently labeling their posts with their self-applied nicknames; sort of like a “Do Not Open” sign. You can help them with their delusion of self-importance by calling them by their “handle”: <blockquote>Subj: Hi Red Fox! You Fucking Douchebag!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!</blockquote> <big><big>4) Who's Up for a Lively Debate?</big></big> The respectful, free-flow exchange of ideas and information is an important part of a civilized community everywhere. But not here. If you feel that you want to go toe-to-toe with someone online, here are some important tips: <blockquote>- Facts don't matter. Feel free to make up “facts”, just like your opponent is doing. - Use lots of profanity. - Use lots of punctuation. - Use lots of profanity and punctuation. - If in doubt, CAPS LOCK!</blockquote> Finally, remember that every “debate” on RnR is between a goat-fucking, sociopathic, syphlitic degenerate who has nothing better to do than yank your chain because he ran out of farm animals to mutilate and a shit-for-brains moron who can't figure that out. So, when you're in a “debate”, stop, and look up. Do you see a goat? <big><big>5) Does Anyone have an Opinion on . . . ?</big></big> You may find that some of your fellow RnR's have opinions. Through patient encouragement, they may open up enough to share their opinion with you gently and sincerely. Or not. Note: you should have a good knowledge of urban slang. <big><big>6) Conclusion</big></big> Well, friend, you're now well on your way to enjoying a rewarding career in small-machine repair. Before you know it, you'll be earning $ Big Money $ selling quality home-cleaning products door-to-door. Just keep in mind that everyone here is a stupid, pig-ignorant fool, except for me and you. But I'm beginning to wonder about you. <ul> <li> Location: Open Other End <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-02-26T14:41:23-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1051946364.html RnR: An Introductory User's Guide text Punk rock Martha Stewart baker will tear your kitchen apart http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1039001084.html …figuratively, of course. Ok I have the fancypants resume. I have the cover letter. I pimp that shit out and make it all special and fancy for each and every job I apply too. I have the little outfit which I iron on the floor of my hovel on top of a cutting board and towel. Not that it matters, because I DON’T GET ANY CALLBACKS FROM YOU PEOPLE. WHAT THE FUCK. Listen, I KNOW times are tough but! You post the jobs, I send the resume, and I KNOW I’m hirable. I got hired at four, that’s right, 1234 baking jobs before the economy tanked, and I turned them all down. Cocky? Perhaps. I didn’t know the stupid economy would take a dump right when I was feeling confident about waiting for a job that was juuuuust right. So, now I’m paying the price. Fine. I accept that it was a dick move. And now I’m applying left and right for baking jobs, any baking jobs, shit, food prep jobs, whatever, piece of crap industrial sweatshop baking jobs, and I get nothing. WTF do you people want from me? Here, here’s my fucking resume. Here’s the real shit, not the kiss-ass garbage I spend hours laboring over on my 2nd hand laptop at the free wifi café. OBJECTIVE To bake the living shit out of shit. QUALIFICATIONS: Take all the bile and outrage in this resume. The food I make is as sweet as these words are bitter. The cupcakes I make are cuter than a puppy’s ass. A whole tray of puppy’s asses. I was genetically engineered by the US government in a covert project called BakerBot4000-R. I don’t know what the 4000-R stands for but it’s as impressive as is sounds. I crank out bread like that crazy ass Mormon family on TLC cranks out babies. One time my boss walked in on me at work and I was sleeping but guess what? He couldn’t say SHIT cause I was baking at the SAME TIME. Anyway I wasn’t really sleeping, I was meditating on the next AWESOME savory scone that could make you forget how to speak your first language. One time I took a tray of scones out of the oven that were so golden and perfect it was like staring at the face of God, and maybe God was involved because the oven wasn’t even PLUGGED IN. Are you one of those bosses who needs to sit on a stool in the kitchen and tell me about your love life til 3 am? I will solve that shit like Dear Abby and Dr. Drew and make you feel good about being such a dumbass. Are you tired of stupid ass stoner bakers who can’t bake without being “baked?” I eat those fools for breakfast. Are you yourself a pothead? Hey, I don’t judge. Would you rather not even know I exist, and just want the baked goods to magically appear without having to deal with anyone’s needy, personal bullshit? Wow, that would sure be refreshing. Don’t question my methods. Just stick a muffin in your mouth and shut up. Also I sweat 100% pure vanilla extract and I poop marzipan which really cuts back on costs. JOB HISTORY Come-&-Get-It soup kitchen: At this job I baked bread so fucking perfect that the local hobos would eat it and instantly transform into one of the following: super hot firemen, solutions to global warming, or just piles of diamonds. I had a dream about crossaints and this somehow resulted in a fold in space-time, resulting in their invention sometime in the middle ages. Government contract as BakerBot4000-R: I can’t tell you much about this job or I would have to kill you (and I totally could.) I had to leave this job because, I was told, my rate of productivity was making the president “look bad” in comparison. However, it was the Bush administration so I refuse to take responsibility for this. A Pet Rock could make that guy look bad. REFERENCES God taught me the whole manna thing, but I’ve promised not to abuse my power. I invented Martha Stewart and when I refused to give up my secret recipe for a cake that causes the consumer to attain a state of perfect bliss, sometimes referred to as nirvana, she went temporarily insane and ended up in jail. Inspired by Steve Madonna. Luckily for you all, I am married and Steve and I shall never meet. Otherwise we would spawn monster beast children that would tear you all apart and render the employment system (aka “capitalism”) even more obsolete than it already is. <ul> <li> Location: seattle <li>it's ok to contact this poster if you are a potential employer or other principal <li>Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job seeker. <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-02-17T15:01:55-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1039001084.html Punk rock Martha Stewart baker will tear your kitchen apart text Seeking Arranged Marriage http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1007286964.html TO ALL AVAILABLE MEN SO… I’m single, tired of mingling, and looking to get hitched. Thing is, I’m pretty frustrated with the legwork and my solution is to pass the buck on to my parents and let them go ahead and choose for me, the way it was (is) done in the good old days (South Asia). So if you’re a single guy, hoping for marriage and kids (not more than two) in the future, and willing to roll with the punches, let’s get your folks in on this too. Here’s what I’m thinking… You respond to this with your parental contact info, which I will pass along to mine… Then, I figure we can just butt out until the wedding. Let’s let them hammer out the details, investigate compatibility, and argue about a dowry. Me: 26 year old female with a generally positive outlook on life, one salary, three piercings, zero tattoos, one car, one hamster, and one (slightly used) vagina. I’d be willing to consider getting re-virginized if this is a deal-breaker for your family. I’d prefer not to convert to your religion, but I would consider relocation if my travel expenses were covered. Looking forward to the big day. Maybe we’ll meet once or twice before then… I’m leaving that up to my mom. <ul> <li> Location: Seattle <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-25T13:03:40-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/1007286964.html Seeking Arranged Marriage text Prenancy Doesn't Make You Divine... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/988349701.html Yeah, we get it - You're pregnant. BIG FUCKING DEAL. It's not like you went to school for three years and had to take some excruciating multi-day certification. It's not like you saved a Golden Retriever puppy from getting run over by a bus load of Norwegian tourists. It's not like you cured macular degeneration. YOU SPREAD YOUR LEGS AND TOOK A MAN-MUSTARD INJECTION... Wow. Way to go. I am amazed you made it through such a mentally and physically demanding challenge that probably lasted all of 45 seconds (either natural or lab-grown.) And now we are suppose to fawn all over you. We are suppose to act like it's so incredibly difficult to get pregnant, and that you are now this pristine chalice of life -Something that deserves to be worshiped and adored. Feel sick in the mornings? Do your feet hurt cause they are swelling? Gotta buy new clothes because you are 12 weeks along and have already put on 19 pounds? NOT MY PROBLEM. Do your job like you are suppose to and shut the hell up already. …Oh btw - Quit using your pregnancy as an excuse to stuff your gullet each and every chance you get. When you proudly stand up at the staff party and announce that "The baby wants" an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Super Fudge Chunk, a liter of Dr. Pepper, some curly fries THEN TELL THE BABY TO SHUT THE FUCK UP. Now what exactly do I have to look forward to for the next two or three years..? A constant stream of verbal diarrhea such as "little Bobby went to the toilet and pooped all by himself - But he forgot to wipe and then sat on the floor to pull his pants up! It was so precious, but there was poop everywhere!" or “I'm sorry I'm 40 minutes late, you see I have a four-year-old in potty training and we had an accident." or "I don't feel comfortable doing the speed limit, my baby is only two months old - You can go around." FUCK YOU. Two years after that and now I'm stuck behind you at the concession stand - And guess what? You feel it's important to empower your child. It doesn't matter that there are nine people behind you, you want little Bobby to make his own choice when it comes to artificially flavored processed movie snacks. By God, Bobby is special. He must be because that’s what all the Nike commercials say. There is only one Bobby and he is different from every other person on this earth. He is special by God, and he will be raised knowing he is special. And now, little Bobby has been standing there with his little index finger in his little mouth, staring at all the choices for the last FULL minute. But you aren't the type of parent to acknowledge the fact that many people are waiting for little Bobby to make up his little mind. You don't say something like "Hurry and choose something or I will choose for you" or even better “Other people are waiting, make up your mind” - Not you. Instead, you turn to the sea of humanity that has formed a marginally cohesive line behind you and look at them with an 'I'm sure you all understand' look. FUCK YOU. You are the same people that just can't put their cell phone conversation on hold for 20 seconds while you order your venti no-whip-half-caff almond latte and spinach croissant - Instead you make eye contact with the waiter and raise that index finger. The index finger which happens to be the international signal for 'I am a socially retarded fuckhead.' One time I saw an interview with Hootie (of the Blowfish), with his wife. It was a lovely 'What does Hootie and his wife do when he's at home and not packing fans into concerts at 20 or 30% of capacity' piece on some lame ass afternoon news biopic show. Anyway Hootie’s wife starts talking about kids and how they are such a miracle and (now she is actually tearing up) and she just can't understand how anyone wouldn't want to have children and HOW SHE JUST FEELS SORRY FOR THOSE PEOPLE. Oh yes honey, feel sorry for us. Obviously we are emotionally fractured because we don't share the same fervent desire to add our particular goo to this world's collective semen cesspool... I don't hate children. I hate the parents that think they are entitled because they have children... <ul> <li> Location: Lividville <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-11T00:40:25-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/988349701.html Prenancy Doesn't Make You Divine... text You made my new years - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/977933514.html You: Tall blonde wearing a halter top. You were the one kissing me and doing something crazy to my neck while we watched the fireworks at the Space Needle. Me: Guy forced to leave the party in a hurry because your boyfriend had a gun. Look. Normally I don’t go for girls in relationships, but when you told me how soft my lips were in that playful sexy voice, I’ve never been so turned on in my entire life. If for whatever reason you and your boyfriend don’t last or he donates his gun to charity, come find me. <ul> <li> Location: Seattle <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2009-01-02T15:23:13-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/977933514.html You made my new years - m4w text Stunt double look alike wanted for family photo shot http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/974639321.html Hello i am posting this ad to enjoy some times off from getting dressed,a hair cut and the whole 9 yards.i will pay someone 25 bucks to smile in a photo for me with my in laws.easy money! here's what i am looking for: .asian male(26-29) .Short black hair .handsome smiles .5'7 .160lbs .Handsome like myself .one messed up teeth Plus i don't feel like shaving etc <ul> <li> Location: Tukwila/Seatac <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-30T12:08:41-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/974639321.html Stunt double look alike wanted for family photo shot text Letter to Straight People I Meet at Straight Bars http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/970258910.html An open letter to straight people I meet at straight bars. I am not a celebrity, a landmark, nor an abnormally large fish. I am a man. Please don't take souvenir snapshots of your husband with his arm around me batting his eyelashes like a silent-screen actress. It's offensive. And I'm not photogenic. I am not bisexual. Please don't assume that your kink is my kink. Great. Your husband likes guys on occasion. And you like watching your husband liking guys on occasion. If I wanted some hoo-hoo, though, I'd cut out the middle man and go straight for the snatch. And, BTW, if I were into cooch, what, in God's name, makes you think that I'd be attracted to you anyway? There's a reason why your husband likes the occasional cock. I am not mentally ill (at least not in terms of my homosexuality). Nor am I a shrink. "Why do you think gay men have an abnormally close relationship with their mothers?" I don't know. I talk to my dad more often than my mom. Why don't you ask your mom? You live with her. I am not a drag queen. "Why do guys want to dress up like girls?" I am asked. I don't know. Why does Toby Keith dress like Yosemite Sam? Drag is drag. Gay is gay. Sometimes the twain meet. I am not a transexual. I do not know why some men/women choose to lose/gain sexual organs and identities. For the most part, I like my dick and my gender: so much so, enjoy sleeping with men with dicks. I can, however, refer you to the Internet for further reading/viewing. I am not a pedophile. When, out of common courtesy, I ask about your son, please don't reply: "He's straight." That's like someone asking me how my grandmother is doing and replying: "Well, her twat might be a little dry, so I highly recommend lube." Besides, do you really think that if I were interested in your 16-year-old son, I would be asking YOU about him? "So, what's he look like in the shower? Bet those pubes are coming in real nice. You really should hook us up." I am not a gloryhole. Just because you have a 9-inch cock, doesn't mean I want your dick in my hole. I wouldn't want it in me if you were gay; what makes you think I'd want it in me if you are straight? While I must confess to falling prey to the allure of a cute, straight daddy from time to time, being straight does not automatically make you appealing. Nor does my being gay automatically make me the bottom. Ask your buddy, Mike. I am not your Scout buddy. Whatever you and your pubescent friends experimented with when you were 13 is between the two or three of you. Please don't try reliving it with an adult gay man. I don't want to go camping with you (while your wife is visiting friends in Portland); I don't want to come over and play (Wii, Nintendo, whatever) while she is at work; I don't want you to jerk me off in the bathroom (we might lose the pool table; and, besides, I can jerk myself off, thanks); and I don't want you to come over to watch the game, get so drunk that you pretend to pass out, then (while I'm in the bathroom) slip in some porn. You wanna fuck? Be a man. Ask. If I'm into you, rock and roll. Nor am I your ego booster. Bend over. Whip it out. Drop to your knees. Whatever. But STOP flirting! Jesus. If you are straight, then go, boy, go. If you just want to play with another guy for the night, again, ask me and we'll see. I agree. Those hot little girls are idiots for not sleeping with you. Yes, you are good looking. Yes, you do have a great ass. Yes, you are smarter and more interesting than your average Joe. But for fuck's sake, stop teasing me. Don't stand behind me rubbing your cock up against me while I'm shooting pool ("I'm just fucking with you, dude"). Don't pinch my ass while I'm trying to break. Don't use your pool cue to scratch your balls. Otherwise, don't be surprised one night when I appear from your backseat, pull you back there with me, and grudge fuck the shit out of your straight ass. Walking home? Watch the alleys. I am not omnipresent. No. I do not know your 70-year-old gay uncle from Hot Springs, Arkansas. No. I never met Liberace. Yes, I did go to a George Michael concert once. No, I do not know if he's a good kisser, I sat in the balcony. I am not a fashion designer. But, yes, your ass does look fat in those jeans. I am not into Appletinis. I like Bourbon. Straight. I am not butch. Telling someone that they don't "act gay" is not a compliment, folks. Being "butch" is not a noble attribute. Nor is femininity a negative attribute. How would you like it if I came up to your husband and said: "Wow! You don't act straight. Are you sure you don't like cock? You just don't seem like the pussy-eating kind of guy." I am not handicapped. The reason I play shitty pool is because I just started playing the game 6 months ago, not because I'm gay. But, guys, when I do beat you, please don't get pissed off and start making excuses. It's OK to get beat by a Mo. It's not as bad as getting beat by a chick. I am not a urinal hound. Guys, you don't have to go in the stall to piss, you can use one of the 4 or 5 open urinals next to me. I go in the restroom to relieve me bladder, not to sneak a peak at your package. And, too, you don't have to publicly exhibit your masculinity by slamming your fist on the (door, paper dispenser, toilet handle, wall, etc.) after you pee. I got it. You are straight. Might as well beat your chest and leave the poor facilities alone. They didn't challenge your sexuality. In summary: I'm a decent guy. Hi. <ul> <li> Location: Seattle <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-12-26T11:50:58-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/970258910.html Letter to Straight People I Meet at Straight Bars text Another Bang Lister http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/882636139.html Here's what I think of your Bang List: <big><big><big><big>B</big></big></big></big>utter – You were my first lube. You were always there for me; you never asked for anything, you just gave and gave and gave. Sure, I experimented a little, who doesn't? Corn oil, mayonnaise, suntan lotion, Vaseline, hair gel, jam, ManGlide... but you were the first. Yeah, it really brings back the ol' memories. You'll always have a special place in my heart. Hell, I can't even eat popcorn these days without getting a woody. <big><big><big><big>U</big></big></big></big>nderwear – You were hawwt. I remember the first time I checked out my Mom's underwear in the dirty clothes hamper; you were flirting with me. Teasing me to try you on. Did you ever tell her that I sometimes wore you while I spanked my monkey? You dawg! She must have weighed 280 pounds, and you were like a circus tent. And her bra? OMG! That was Tasty Hot! She'd come home from a long day at work, all hot and sweaty, and eat her fried-chicken TV dinner while leaning forward on her chair so I could pick the zits on her back. Her bra was just so . . There. I'd sneak a peek every once in a while. You know what I'm saying? Fuckin' A, baby! <big><big><big><big>L</big></big></big></big>ady on page 26 of the Victoria's Secret catalog – You were one Hot Babe. You rocked my world. That look in your eyes as I wanked into some Kleenex promised some of the steamiest sex I could ever imagine. If you ever want to hook up again, just be delivered in the mail as usual. Maybe your friend with the juicy-caboosie (page 14) would like to get together for some Spicy-Hot 3-way action? Think about it. <big><big><big><big>L</big></big></big></big>inda, or maybe Lynn, or Lindsay, I'm not really sure – I was cruising the New Year's Eve parties, looking for what I like to call “Hot Babe Action”. Just driving around in my Dodge Aries on a Babe Hunt. I heard your friends in front of the nightclub call to you, “You gonna be okay, Lin(something)?” You screamed back, “(something garbled)!!” and then stumbled and flipped them the bird. You were all pretty drunk. I followed you for a few blocks until you went into the park (I wasn't stalking you). I found you there, under a tree, on your hands and knees like a dawg, you Hot Nasty Bitch. You blew a steady torrent of vomit on the grass in front of you, and then planted your face in it with your ass up in the air. I'm pretty sure you said “Yes”; at least that's what I heard. Damn, I must have pounded your Love Canal 3, maybe even 4 seconds before I exploded. And I could tell from the side of your face that wasn't caked with vomit that, underneath the smeared make-up, you were Hot! Can you believe it? After all these years I still have your underwear (hanging from the rearview mirror of the Dodge Lovemobile) and the genital warts you gave me, and the herpes. You're still the only (human) female who I've slipped the baloney-pony: I'll love you forever. Good times, eh? There was something I've wondered about for a long time: you were sort of unresponsive at the time, and I wanted to get away before any cops came by, so I never got to ask; Was it good for you? <big><big><big><big>S</big></big></big></big>heep (I don't think you had a name) – You were my first ungulate. This was at my Uncle Gunter's farm in Iowa. Damn, you were such an animal. After that whole Lin(whatserface) experience, I started to feel some manly pain in my heart. My life felt so empty with her gone. A lot of people don't realize it, but a man has feelings too. A man has needs. And I felt that I needed some poon-tang. A Hot Swingin' Babe, just getting down and dirty. But we were in the middle of Bum-Fuck, Iowa, so I went for ewe. You really helped me through a rough patch; helped me climb back on the Love Train again, get my confidence going so I could go cruising for Hot Babes. I was pretty nervous about playing hide-the-pickle with a farm animal, but you were calm and patient, just chewing your cud while I worked up my nerve. I gave you a handful of clover afterwards so in case you started following me around I could say, “Yeah, I gave her some clover earlier.” <big><big><big><big>H</big></big></big></big>orrified woman in the bathroom stall next to me – I swear that all I was doing was making a simple video of toilets in American public bathrooms. A historical documentation of how we live in America. You'd think that would have some social value, right? Performance art. Right? I had No Friggen Idea that you were in the stall next to me! I couldn't even see the viewfinder for the camera! Hell, I didn't even know this was a woman's bathroom. I'm sorry I didn't look more carefully at the tiny little sign. And anyway, I think it was in Spanish, at least part of it was, and I got confused. I was crowning; I had to go. And I was rubbing one out. . . like it's a big deal. Lots of guys pound the pud while sitting on the can. If the judge had been a guy instead of frigid, bitter, dried-up, man-hating dyke, he would have known that, and I would have walked. Jeez Laweez! Talk about a frame-up! <big><big><big><big>I</big></big></big></big>ke – You were my best friend in prison, man. Hombre! We'd kick back, just passing the time out in the yard, talking about Hot-Assed Bitches. Right on, brother! Talking about bras, talking about Lin(whatever), talking about cruising for Hot Smokin' Babes in the Lovemobile. Those were some good times, talking about what we'd do when we got out of the Big House and hooked up with some Sweet-n- Nasty Be-atches. Brother, when you get out in 10-to-15, I'll be waiting for you with the Dodge and we can cruise for some Booty-licious Hot Tamales, or we can go back to my place and watch each other jerk off just like in the Store Room of the Metal Shop at the Big House. Old times, amigo. I'll have a big stack of Victoria's Secret catalogs waiting for you, my man, just full of Hot, Ripe Babes. <big><big><big><big>T</big></big></big></big>astyTime – That's my favorite brand of ice cream to eat while I'm hooking up with Hot Bitches on the Internet. T.T. TastyTime ButterNut Double-Fudge. Fuckin' A! That's also one of my screen names, “TT”. I understand Hot Babes so well now that I'm like a psychologist or some shit. They just have to ask what “TT” stands for. “Tree Top Lover, Baby” That's what I usually tell them. “But my ladies just call me Tree Top. T.T. Dig?” Then we get into all kinds of nasty talk about Trees and being on Top and shit. I tell ya, I know Bitches like the back of my hand. I cruise CraigsList and all the chat rooms getting Hot Babe Action. I'm dialed-in to some really exclusive Eastern European porn (Prestige-level Member), straight to my In Box on the computer where I work graveyard as a security guard at the warehouse. Some Hot Russian Bitch has been writing to me lately; shit, I've got Hot Babes texting me every day. (The word is out, man; the word is fucking out that I'm a major Player, and the bees are buzzing looking for a little honey.) I got some Russian Bitch hitting me up, a Japanese Bitch, all talking about increasing the size of my trouser snake, “make her moan with pleasure”, that kind of shit. I'm like a Bitch-Magnet, baby. I've gone viral. It seems like every Hot Nasty Babe on the planet is focused on the size of my johnson. All wanting to ride the Stallion. That's another screen name of mine: “1337 Stallion”. <hr> And that's the List . . . so far. . . . So, which one of you Hot Smokin' Babes is ready to “assume the position” on TT's Bang List? I've been taking the pills that I bought over the Internet from the Japanese Bitch and I've been using the vacuum pump; the Pecker has become a Porker. It's a fucking anaconda. It's got to be at least 5 solid God-Bless-American inches of white-meat tube-steak. I am really packing some hammer. I should be issued a warning label. Don't worry about Lin(whozit). I waited for her for 20 years: she had her chance, and the bitch blew it. I'm over her. I'm 41 years old, and it's time for me to move on to new pastures. I've got a job (paid to spank, best job in the world) and my own car (Lovemobile). I'm ready to party (but we can't party at my place because my Mom's retired now and is home all the time). The Lovemobile's got a kick-ass sound system; drop in the 8-track, booty-moving tunes start blasting, and we Par-tay! Any of you Hot Babes think you can handle a real Player? Let's hook up, Bay-Bay. Let's see what you've got. Tell me about our lovely lady lumps. Tell me about how you want to shake your money-maker out on the dance floor with TT. Tell me, Who's your pimpdaddy? Send me something to prime my pump (my love pump, unh!). I won't bite, but I might nibble. Don't be a hater. We can meet. You name the place and time. I'll be the guy in the tan Dodge Aries with the comb-over, Member's Only jacket and Sans-a-Belt slacks. And it's not a beer-belly; think of it as a fuel tank for a sex machine. TT <ul> <li> Location: Hawwt <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-10-17T07:26:23-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/882636139.html Another Bang Lister text Self-Proclaimed Yoko's Seek Band For Special Project http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/878346656.html Hey. Are you in an up and coming band? Care to be destroyed? We might be just the girls for you. Now, I know what you're thinking: "What?" you're thinking, "Why in the hell would I want some floosie Georgetown Yoko's to waltz into my studio, screw half my band, and laugh hautily while they watch us break up?" Well, to that I say "ha ha," and I say it laughingly. Now I'm not saying that everyone wants they're band to break up, I'm just saying that we're well versed in the intricacies of breaking up bands. I'm serious. We're really good at this. Well, I am anyway, but my roomates are ready and eager to learn how to assimilate their incomparable powers of destruction to band members. I don't know, dude. Maybe you're a spunky, talented lead guitarist who can't stand up to your lead singer. Maybe you're a drummer with a better offer. Look, I'm not a fortune teller, but I do have a haunted vagina, notches on my bedpost that total over 100, and I can help you break up your band if you don't have the balls to do it yourself. Amanda has had her share of bicycle club shenanigans, and Crystal, although she doesn't have specific band-breaking-up experience, has general destruction capabilities that have here to fore been unrivaled in this, the west side of the Missisippi. Together, you best believe that we can Yoko the crap out of any non assuming band in less than a fortnight. That's 14 days, guys. And hey. Maybe you just want to do it. That's cool too, but we are by no means guaranteeing that your band will stay together after having known us. Just ask the neighbors. Come on guys, let's bochinche (read: party naked with music). Love, Miranda, Amanda and Crystal <ul> <li> Location: Georgetown <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-10-13T20:36:36-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/878346656.html Self-Proclaimed Yoko's Seek Band For Special Project text Husband for adoption - low rehoming fee http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/847702751.html My husband said it's him or the dog? So, it was a tough choice, but the dog only takes up part of the bed, and he doesn't steal the covers, so I'm keeping the dog. Husband has tendency to wander, likes to sleep all day, will play with his balls, isn't house trained, but will beg to go out. Needs fenced yard without grass to mow, a home with plentiful food (favorite food is pizza) and drink (loves beer). Gets along well with other dogs, doesn't much care for cats or children. Has little redeeming value, but he is cute. Comes from a long line of hunters, would love to be your hunting companion. Knows Sit, Heel, Stay, and Down. Doesn't always do them? But he knows those commands, don't let him try to convince you he doesn't. Is current on all shots, pretty healthy, has had his teeth cleaned recently, and is NOT NEUTERED. I'd be happy to help pay for the neutering. Too good home, fee negotiable, I know I can't get anywhere near what I've got in him back. Comes with 49'ers T shirt, large flat screen tv, and a big truck but only the T shirt is paid for. Serious inquiries only! <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-09-19T17:57:39-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/847702751.html Husband for adoption - low rehoming fee text Autographed copy of the Bible - $1,000,000,000 OBO http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/757746196.html I have a near-mint copy of the Bible, signed by the Big J.C. himself. According to Amazon, this is one of the better selling books of all time. I'm guessing the Prince of Peace would be happy to hear that. This book was entrusted to me by the Knights of Templar, they borrowed it from Our Savior sometime between 28 and 32 AD and forgot to give it back. It was one of those things where they said they'd return it in a week, but then they didn't get around to reading it right away. And you know how you always feel bad returning a book you haven't read, especially when the lender asks you what you thought of it. So in trying to avoid an awkward moment with the Alpha and Omega, they hung onto it until they had more time. Well that time turned into about 2000 years, and it got mixed in with some other books and made it into a yard sale box. At first, the King of Kings' signature wasn't worth much, but after Our Redeemer died on the cross for your sins, apparently the value skyrocketed and then rose more gradually over the next 2000 years as more people learned of the Good Shepherd's story. Why am I selling it? I could say that I'm interested in sharing the Word of God with someone else - become a "Fisher of Men" so to speak. But the truth is I just bought an Xbox 360 and don't have room on the bookshelf for both. I'll either use the money to fight world hunger, or buy that Rock Band game I've been hankering for. <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-07-16T14:27:03-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/757746196.html Autographed copy of the Bible - $1,000,000,000 OBO text I Got Fired Today http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/716250969.html I walked into work this morning at about 8:53 this morning and was surprisingly greeted by my V.P. I thought to myself, "That's odd... I didn't even know he knew I still work here?" He asked me if I knew what time it was because I am normally scheduled to be there at 8am Monday-Friday. I replied, "No, a lion attacked me on the way into work this morning. Lost my watch in the struggle. Enough about me, how can I be of assistance to you today, Mr. (****)?" Needless to say, he didn't find my explanation very endearing :-/ Next thing I knew, I get pulled into the conference room. Thought to myself, "Geesh, I wonder what this is about?" Walked into the room and saw my direct boss and all his lovely cohorts. They presented me my last four annual reviews and wished to go over them in detail. Naturally, I started laughing because of things I wrote in the past. Didn't know they actually read them? My boss revisted one of them that I wrote in 2007 where I am supposed to comment in the section of "Employee's Greatest Accomplishments". He read it off, "I got the Supervisor/Manager in the deli [downstairs] to start carrying V8 juice." I laughed and told them to cut to the chase. Whadya know? They had termination papers for me to sign. "Sure." A couple handshakes and then asked for a small box to pack my belongings. They obliged. Got back to my cubicle w/one of those white Office Max "On-the-Go" file boxes and packed five years worth of stuff. For the last time, I sat in my squeaky chair that never fit me right in all the years I'd been there. Only reason I kept it was because I knew the sound annoyed the shit out of my cubemate. In fact, one day he tried to mace it with WD-40. I lied and told him that I am severly allergic to it. He pouted for me to get a new chair and mumbled a couple swear words. I giggled so hard inside my head to a point that my face turned red. I just blamed the redness on the sight of the WD-40 can. Anyhow, back to my packing... found a lot of nothing. It hit me that I never really did "set up shop" like everyone else there at work had. You go into some cubes where the ladies have fuzzy arm sleeves for their chairs, hand-knitted blankets for their lap, a plethora of family/friends photos, personal lamps, small fish bowls, and enough plants sitting around to open up a plant nursery. Me? Well, I found the belongings that I had accumulated over five years: *Microwave pop-corn (take your pick, I have 4 flavors ranging from "Movie Theatre Butter" to Kettle!) *43 packets of Taco Bell's Mild sauce *12 packets of Morton's Salt *5 packets of pepper *3 packets of mustard *1 can of Campell's Chunky Beef Barley *3 Cup of Noodles (beef flavor) *2 Top Ramen Packs (beef flavor again) *a box of Quaker Oatmeal "Weight Control" (yeah, no interest... lady a work gave it to me 2 yrs ago) *4 boxes of Girl Scout cookies that I bought months ago (Thin Mint, Samoas, Peanut Butter Patties) *1 white bowl and tons of plasticware *and finally, travel and financial magazines dating back to 2006. Yep, that's it folks! No pictures, no plants, no fish. Oh, wait... I have one last item I found that hit a soft spot... it's Christmas ornament that was given to me by a co-worker last year. He gives them out every year and they're kinda cute considering he's a big Samoan dude w/a tribe of pooh-pooh makers at home. They make them out of clothes pins. Moral of my story: Don't eat too much red meat and salty foods - leads to kidney stones. PS: Let me know if you're hiring :-) <ul> <li> Location: Only in Seattle <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-06-11T11:44:15-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/716250969.html I Got Fired Today text SLIGHTLY DISGRUNTLED DIRT: nevermind http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/697782542.html NEVERMIND! Dirt changed dirt's mind. Dirt is too afraid of craigslist strangers to give out dirt's address. Dirt will just suck it up and spread around the yard, sometime... soon. (Oh who is dirt kidding? Dirt will live in the driveway for months). But NEVERMIND. And thank you anyway for the nice emails, except for those of you who were spooky, creepy and/or really insane. ___________________________________________________ Hello. I am dirt. See? <img src="697782542.jpg"> I need to move out of the driveway. I'm not really that much dirt. Just what was left over after digging fence post holes. Could you haul me away? Far, far away? I am in Wedgwood. That's just North of the Univ of Washington a bit. I will pay one person $20 to haul me off. Please? Someone emailed me for my measurements. That's kind of a personal question, but I guess we're friends, right? I'm about a 6ftx8ftx3ft pile, but only in the center. I'm pretty small around the edges. Thanks in advance. Yours truly, Pile of Dirt P.S. I am slightly disgruntled because some people cannot read. I am only dirt. I only have $20. It's not like I'm mud or fancy rocks. I'm just dirt. DIRT CHEAP. Please don't waste dirt's time by emailing dirt and asking for more money. DIRT isn't here to subsidize your craigslist lifestyle. Dirt just wants to be gone. <ul> <li> Location: Wedgwood <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-05-27T21:01:49-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/697782542.html SLIGHTLY DISGRUNTLED DIRT: nevermind text found cat--black with white stripes http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/687162102.html Hi, I found a cat today near the arboretum. She's black with white stripes down her back. She seems a little standoffish. Does not get along well with children. She doesn't have a collar, but seems to be an indoor cat and went without hesitation for a can of cat food I opened for her. I think she's been away from home a while. She's quite smelly. May need a bath. Please e-mail me to claim. Small rehoming fee (to cover the cost of the litterbox and cat food). <img src="687162102.jpg"> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: montlake <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-05-19T15:13:47-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/687162102.html found cat--black with white stripes text Things my father taught me http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/640786074.html The measurement of my finger from the tip to the first joint is 1 inch...depth for planting peas. The measurement to the second joint is 2 inches...depth for corn. Return borrowed things in better shape than when you borrowed them. There are two types of trouble...one is the trouble you knowingly walk into, the other is trouble that just happens...it's important to know the difference. Walk softly but carry a big stick. if you have to use said stick, make sure who you use it on, doesn't get up. Grits is good. Foul language is a sign of a limited vocabulary Orion, the Big and Little Dippers. Everyone is a friend until proven otherwise. Licorice ferns, huckleberries, nettles, sword ferns. Tabasco won't kill you even if you eat it by the spoonfull. Don't watch the clock when you're at work. Fish can see you if you look over the side of the boat. Fish can hear you if you talk to loud. Respect the elders. Never go to bed angry. That which does not kill you will hurt like the dickens, but it will make you stronger. Family is the most important thing on earth. How to play the guitar, spoons, mouth harp, and water filled bottles. The true meaning of "Self Made Man" If you don't know something, go to the library and learn it. The phrases "I don't know", "I forgot", or "I tried (and failed)" are excuses. There is a difference between an excuse and a reason, know the difference. Take care of your apperance...even if it is just a t-shirt and jeans. The world can change everything about you, except your point of view...unless you allow it to. David L. McDonald born 1936-passed 2008 precious father beloved husband A right good fellow. <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: everywhere <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-04-13T09:33:08-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/640786074.html Things my father taught me text RAVE: To the Boys Who TP'd My House Last Night http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/611335185.html To the Boys Who TP’d My House Last Night -- excellent job! No, seriously, best TP job I have ever seen. And, as the son of a former high school principal, I’ve seen a few! It was like you’d Googled “How to TP a House”. STEP ONE: PICK A HOUSE WHICH: - is on the corner so lots of people driving by see your work – CHECK! - has lots of hedges and HIGH trees to hang TP on – CHECK! - has no fence to trap you in case you’re caught – CHECK! - has no motion-sensitive lights to warn the owners – CHECK! - has no dog – DOH! Yes, we have a dog – and you should have known that because he barks at you when you walk by. Our barking dog woke me up. And finally, pick a house which: - doesn’t have an owner crazy enough to take down all your handiwork in the middle of the night before anyone gets to witness your genius – DOH! I was almost SORRY to be dismantling your masterpiece before morning light. If it helps, I actually stood back and took it all in before I started pulling down streams of white. But, this being Seattle, I was afraid it would rain and wet TP is REALLY hard to remove from trees. I speak from experience here. STEP TWO: TP TECHNIQUE -- AND BEYOND First, your TP technique was superb. I believe I got the benefit of your collective experience here? This couldn’t have been your first job. - the sheer volume of TP was impressive. I counted no fewer than six rolls - the TP was indeed in the HIGHEST branches of my trees – great arm! I had to climb the trees and use a rake to remove the final flapping vestiges. - the TP was high quality, important because the cheap stuff doesn’t cling right But it was all the EXTRAS which put this TP job in the “excellent” category: - At least a grocery bag of ripped-into-small-pieces colored construction paper scattered across our lawn. Even in the streetlight it was pretty. - Silly string! Come on – who doesn’t appreciate silly string? Especially on hedges. That stuff is stubborn. There’s still some out there. - And the coup-de-grace – the Vaseline on the door handle. Brilliant! As I chased you off in my bare feet (more on this below) I noted my flash light covered in sticky stuff. Took me a while to figure out what had happened. Now, on your escape – you did break one cardinal rule of the TP trade. If discovered do NOT run in the direction of your house. It could be argued you should lose a point for this gaff, but I suppose it can be forgiven given the lay of the land and the fact that you were likely freaked out when I burst out of my front door with flash light hand. Would you believe I actually ENVIED you as you ran off? I truly did. Because I knew your hearts were hammering at your ribs and you were experiencing that delicious fear that comes from being discovered in the middle of perpetrating a first-class prank. “Holy crap, dude! He almost CAUGHT US!” The thought made me laugh out loud several times as I went about putting my front yard right again. STEP THREE - DO NO HARM Finally, what you DIDN’T DO is also important: you didn’t trample our newly planted plants or break any tree branches. You didn’t egg the house – that can destroy paint jobs. You didn’t do anything to cause any real damage to our home or property. So – in closing – don’t be too disappointed I removed all the materials you carefully collected and brought to our house before anyone else got to see it displayed in all its glory. I am memorializing your effort here on Craigslist for all to read. After an hour of work, as I stood back and looked at my boring de-TP’d yard, I brought to mind how much more colorful it had been just 60 mintues before. With your work in mind, I held up an imaginary score card Olympics style…10.0! Had there been crowds, they would have gone wild. With respect, Home Owner, Issaquah WA P.S. btw, once is funny. Twice...not so much. ;)   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Issaquah, WA <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-03-19T08:49:30-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/611335185.html RAVE: To the Boys Who TP'd My House Last Night text Just fucking fuck me, already. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/561877622.html Dear Men of Craigslist, Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do. But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We've done dinner and drinks. We've gone dancing. We've cuddled and watched a movie. I'm wearing a low cut shirt and you've been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me. When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I'm not going to just lie still - I'll get involved. But don't make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We've been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That's nice, but it's time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don't make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I'm practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won't go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don't gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It's not what WE want. OK, I know it's scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don't think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men: 1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like "I'm sorry - you just look so fucking delicious. I'll go slower." Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you're both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it's not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU'RE the man. Act like one. 2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It's different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you're trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don't know what to do, ask her. Just ask. "How do you like it?". It's a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she's being all coy, ask "Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?" The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked. 3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to "make love" every time - sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it's not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you're mixing a cake batter up there. It's because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don't be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes - I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out. 4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her ("Really? Spanking? Won't it hurt?" - yes, it does. That's the fucking point). We know you've read Stuff and Maxim, and that's all those laddie mags talk about in their "How to Please Her" sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don't have to bend her over one knee and tell her she's a naughty girl and that Daddy's going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don't worry about breaking her hip. 5. It's OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you're banging a woman, and she's crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can't even manage a grunt, she's going to feel like an idiot. You don't have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes "Ah!", half grunt, half yell? That's HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you're in missionary position. You don't have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she's going to get worried. 6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you'd like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, "I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot." Is she still moaning in response? "Your tits are so beautiful." Does that work? If she doesn't respond well to the term "tits", you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following: "Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight." "You're so wet - are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?" "I think I'm going to come inside you. I'm going to fill up your little cunt." It doesn't matter that you're wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this. If all of those work, you can then progress to things like "sexy little bitch" and "dirty whore". Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge. 6. You're not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she's not obligated to choke on your dick. Don't skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush - you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary. 7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don't want to be preggers, and you don't want to catch anything, right? Don't whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can't come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we're satisfied and it's time for you to let loose your load. 8. We really like it when you come. It's called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don't assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there's no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. "I think I'm going to come - how do you like it?" is a fair question that shouldn't rob you of your testicles. In recent memory, I've been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I've been... well, fucked is the wrong term here. I've been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I'm ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that's who. ---------------------------------------------------- *New point of clarification - some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don't mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don't like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you're in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don't be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don't ever do something you don't want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Seattle <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-02-03T15:29:26-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/561877622.html Just fucking fuck me, already. text To Anyone Who Orders Pizza - EVER http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/547971823.html Having taken pizza orders for delivery for many seasons, I think there are a few things that people should know before they call to order a pizza for delivery. 1. YES WE MAKE A CHEESE PIZZA! No pizza joint in the world would refuse that request. No, you don't have to be embarrassed because you're ordering what a typical 5-year old likes to eat. No, you don't have to say "Do you make a pizza without any topppings? I mean, like, uh, just with cheese-only... and sauce?" Every pizza has cheese on it, unless you're a freakin' vegan, and no one is staying in business by offering dough-and-sauce-only treats. So, yes, no matter what pizza place you call WE MAKE A CHEESE PIZZA. Even if the menu says "The Classic" or "Basic" or whatever, if you say cheese-pizza we know what it is. 2. KNOW YOUR ADDRESS! Don't giggle, you overpaid salaried- MBA reading this during your lunch-hour. YOU are the IDIOT that calls and says "We just moved. It's by the store on the corner." Really? Thank goodness there is only one store on a corner in all of Washington State. For a moment, I thought I might actually have to look on a map to see where you live or verifiy the northeastern part of this town or the west side of the next city. Oh, and when I politely mention that I need an exact address, don't huff and act like I'M the one making things difficult. Find a piece of mail. Look on your lease or morgage papers. Go outside. You DO have an address, contrary to the nameless customer who insisted "they" took his address away (but he's got other problems). 3. NO, I WILL NOT BE THE PERSON WHO DELIVERS YOUR PIZZA. Yes, I know. I'm a girl. You're a boy, maybe even cute. I have a pleasant phone voice, which is why I was hired for this job. I don't care how wild the party is. I don't care that the parental units have left for the weekend. I don't care that you will tip me $20 just to show up. I'm being nice to you because it's my job, not because I'm trying to get a boy-friend. Also, although I'm not in this boat, just beware that not everyone who sounds like a pretty model is. Ever see the movie "Spun" ? 4. WE WON'T ATTEMPT TO DEFY THE LAWS OF THE PHYSICAL WORLD FOR YOU. Grow up, miss "I want it extra-well done - but not burnt!" Really? What the fuck do you mean? Extra-well done by definition IS burned. Would you like it simply well-done with an extra paranoid note to the kitchen not to burn it? No? You specifically want it to be EXTRA well-done and NOT BURNT! The other annoying request is for "one" side of the pizza to be well done, and the other "lightly-baked." Um, sir, you do understand what a pizza is, right? That the whole pie will go in the oven and both sides of the pie will be cooked the same amount? We haven't entered into the Star Trek technology of a half-burned, half-soggy pie yet, but we will certainly send you some coupons when we do. Shall I put down "golden brown" for now? Sound good? You mean like, NORMAL? 5. DO YOU LOVE YOUR CHILDREN? I think most of you do not. I hope you understand that when you leave your children in the care of a baby-sitter you should make sure that she/he knows the address where the kids live at, god forbid an EMERGENCY happens. Also, knowledge of the household phone-number would be great so that we can actually get ahold of the baby-sitter when we find out that the wrong address we were given will cause us to be a little late. I know. It's a big romantic night out and you haven't been laid in months because you haven't had enough "alone time" together. But write down the address, write down the emergency numbers, write down that your lovey-dovey brat is allergic to mushrooms so that HOPEFULLY those emergency numbers won't have to be used. 6. A REAL ALLERGY? Look, if you a seriously allergic to something, let me know. We will take extra-precaution. But if you simply don't like lots of garlic, just tell me so we don't put extra garlic on the specialty pie - don't tell me you are allergic and then get pissed off when I am reluctant to send you out a pizza that has tomato sauce on it because all of that sauce will have some garlic in it, you fucker. If you're so goddamned allergic, you probably shouldn't be eating that, should you? 7. DIETERS. Just stop it. Pizza is junk-food. Quit saying double-extra cheese and pepperoni and in the same breath say you're on a diet and do we have a thinner, whole-wheat crust? It's not going to work, baby. You're fat. You're going to get fatter. The quickest way to not be fat is to eat LESS and move MORE. So, why don't you take a walk down to where we are, order a green salad with no dressing OR go all out and order some extra sausage on that pie as well, HEAVY on the olive-oil basting. 8. STONERS ARE THE BEST. I love stoners. I didn't fully realize what a wonderful contribution they are to society until I started working here. If YOU, dear surfer-boy stoner showed up here after a long shift, I would marry you. You guys are so grateful for anything because you're soooo hungry. You are just amazed that a delivery kitchen delivers, that a pizza place makes pizza, and that we can even throw pepperoni on that. Half the time, you forget you ordered, so when our delivery guy shows up, it's like getting to actually SEE Santa filling the Christmas stockings. On a budget? I'll send you extra coupons. We should all be more like stoners. Sweet. Dude. 9. PARANOID PRICK. Yes, you rude paranoid prick. Watch out. You're lucky you are insignificant & therfore not worthy of revenge, but I want you to think through this once. IF YOU WERE IMPORTANT ENOUGH FOR THE CIA TO BE AFTER YOU, I THINK YOU WOULD HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN TO ORDER PIZZA. To the rest of the paranoid pricks who aren't as delusional about the government, think through this: you've been extremely rude to me. I, who know your name, phone number, address and credit card number. I could do a lot of damage. I know it. Now YOU know it. So watch it, because the next person you talk to like that might be a Star Wars nerd who turns to the dark-side. 10. LOVERS. True, I don't have a significant other, so one might think this was jealousy writing, but it isn't, I assure you. I know you're in love. I know "schnookims" probably gives great head, or at least a lot of it, or that "sweetie-pie" just bought you some earrings. Great. But do you realize that incessant dribble on the phone is something I'd rather not hear? You sound like idiots. And to the couples that can't wait until after copulation to call - TAKE AN ETTIQUETTE CLASS. It is NOT cool to screw during a phone call. Maybe in the 1950's it was daring, but come on! Not even the mile-high club is that daring anymore. Will continue to post updates as time goes by....   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: everywhere <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-01-22T12:44:55-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/547971823.html To Anyone Who Orders Pizza - EVER text I want to fuck a skanky Republican chick - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/510742180.html I want to fuck a peroxide-blonde richbitch daddy's girl. I want to fuck a hotter, younger, stupider (if possible) version of Ann Coulter. You preferably grew up on Mercer Island and had your 16th birthday shown on "My Super Sweet 16." It's okay if you're only a republican because your parents are and you don't even know how many houses Congress has. At the very least I want to fuck a girl who wears a cross and thinks the Iraq War is a great idea. I'm am a skinny-jean wearing hipster who goes to Evergreen, supports Dennis Kucinich and only listens to mix tapes of obscure 70's pop. I am sick of cool, interesting girls who are more likely to make out with other girls than me. I want the most bland, insipid cockgobbler on this side of the Cascades. I've always wanted to blow my load in your lip-glossed, bubble-gum chewing mouth, but class, social groups and a sense of morality have prevented me. Your pictures get my smarmy pretension.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-12-15T21:31:25-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/510742180.html I want to fuck a skanky Republican chick - m4w text Here's to you, Fat Sauna Gawker. - m4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/492831983.html Okay, so saunas are naked places. I’m fine with that. And some guys like looking at other guys. Fine with that too. I realize that gay men have it a little rough in our society, and I’m willing to cut some slack for the odd locker-room check out or sidelong glance in the shower. Lord knows I’d have difficulties keeping my thoughts holy and towel un-tented if I had to shower or sit in a sauna full of mostly-nude women. But you, fat sauna gawker, you’re different. You push the envelope. A real renegade, you are. So here are some tips, in case you make a habit of this sort of thing. I might not have even known, Fat Sauna Gawker, had you just used a little tact. Pretended to read a newspaper, perhaps, or done some 'neck stretches', etc. Surely it’s not that hard to sneak a peak here and there without getting caught. But you were always a rule breaker, weren’t you Fat Sauna Gawker? Yep, your strategy was to just, flat, out, STARE. And hell, sauna gawker, you probably could have even gotten away with the unabashed staring had it not been accompanied by your HEAVY-ASS MOUTH BREATHING. But you wanted to get caught, didn’t you fat sauna gawker? You stared and you mouth-breathed to your double bypassed little heart’s content. And it worked. And I looked. But even when I noticed, Fat Sauna Gawker, even then I could have let it go. But that wasn’t the end of it. There was no apologetic or even uncomfortable look in your eye. Animalistic lust and debauchery, that’s all I saw. And after that, Fat Sauna Gawker, with all of your unholy intentions known, with your creepy gaze and pursed lips, and with your pudgy little hand making its way under your towel… Even after all of it I would have shrugged it off. I turned to stare at the wall, sauna gawker, since I’m not one for awkward silences or confrontation. I figured it might give you a hint. But the shadow-puppets, Fat Sauna Gawker, those were unforgivable. Vile creature, how did you even do that? Just thinking about it makes me shudder. And I left, Fat Sauna Gawker. I left, and I felt dirty. And the sauna is no longer that warm, happy and relaxing place in my mind. And you’re to thank for it. So cheers to you Fat Sauna Gawker. You creepy fuck.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: sauna <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-28T20:35:41-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/492831983.html Here's to you, Fat Sauna Gawker. - m4m text Dear Conceited Penis.. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/478014918.html To my amazement, not only have you learned to take pictures of yourself, but you have figured out how to upload them on the computer AND post said pictures in the personal section of Craigslist! Now, having never met a miraculous penis such as yourself, who can do things without knowledge or consent of anyone, I thought I'd tell you how this works. 1. Believe it or not, you have an owner. Your owner and I are in a committed relationship where: a. he is allowed to play with you, b. I'm allowed to play with you, OR c. WE together are allowed to play with you. If for some reason you find someone else's mouth, fingers, vagina, or asshole in, on, or around you..SCREAM. Play dead, blow your emergency whistle, do something and then at the earliest convenience, tell me. 2. A conceited penis is the first place STD's run to. I'm not sure you've used the computer for anything other than begging for an STD but maybe the next time you sign on you should Wikipedia that shit. I, not having a miraculous vagina who thinks for itself, need to speak up and tell you, thats not something we, as in my vagina and myself, want. 3. With your outstanding knowledge of the human world, you should probably do right by your owner and fess up to clear his name. I will not be playing with you or him until someone comes clean and explains to me what exactly happened. I saw the response in his e-mail, did the research, put 2 and 2 together and found out that one of you posted the ad for Adult Fun with a man, woman, or both. He denies that he had anything to do with it but YOU are in the picture along with MY comforter. One of you is lying. If one of you would just be honest then I wouldn't have to put his belongings, or yours, out in the front yard. For the time being, I'm giving both of you the BOTD. Time is wasting... 4. If you decide that you can use your extraordinary abilities for something other than wreaking havoc on my life and would like to confess by either responding to this or maybe writing me a letter of confession then I would gladly give your owner a 2nd chance. He stands his ground on his innocence and as much as I'd like to believe him, I'd need to know who did it and why first. You could put the letter on my pillow and you wouldn't even have to sign your name, I'd just know. 5. I understand you penises go through an "active" phase, but you are suppose to eventually grow out of that. Considering the number of people you've been with and the amount of times you've done it, most would assume you'd be tired. You're not the 20 year old you used to be, your balls agree, just ask your knees. Now that we have the basics covered, I'll give you a fair amount of time to do what's right. Until then, I will not amuse you in any way, I will not please you either. I will sit here and wait..probably wondering how you got a picture from that angle all by yourself. And you'll know when your time is up. Sincerely, JV  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-13T16:03:15-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/478014918.html Dear Conceited Penis.. text fRee eyboaRd http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/473011361.html fRee eyboaRd fiRst peRson gets it – a genuine MicRosoft compatible eyboaRd, ciRca 1999. It still woRs pRetty good, except the ey is missing, and foR some Reason the R is stuc on uppeRcase. SeRious Replies only.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Greenwood <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-08T14:01:32-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/473011361.html fRee eyboaRd text To the Drunk Hottie who fell off my motorcycle http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/471479867.html I met you at the bar last night, and we hit it off. Ya we were both a little buzzed, but you seemed as into me as I was into you. Things got to things, we made out a bit, and you ended up going home with me on the back of my motorcycle, which was awesome because that doesn't usually happen to me. I luckily had the extra helmet with me and let you wear my bike jacket while suffering the cold on the way home. I was feeling pretty happy and lucky to say the least. This is where things got crazy. I don't know if you slipped, or thought I was taking you home to kill you, or if your're just plain crazy and had a change of heart, but all of a sudden you let go of me MID-TURN and went flying into the bushes at about 10-15mph near the park by my house. I was so freaked out!!! when I looked back to see you fumbling in the bushes I could only PRAY TO GOD that you didn't hit the asphalt or something worse. I really thought you must have been hurt at least a bit, but as I turned around to come check on you, you took off into the unlit park running full speed with my helmet and jacket still on! I parked my bike and looked for you for over 2 hours calling your name until I was so cold I had to go home or risk freezing to death. WTF Im sorry for what happened and I really hope your're ok, really I do, but seriously WTF. Running into a forested park in the middle of the night like that....I really can't begin to guess what you were thinking, and you weren't that drunk, but i suppose my "crazy-bitch o' meter" wasn't working at the bar that night, and from the speed you took off I can only surmise that your're not that hurt. I would like my expensive bike gear back though, I hope it kept you warm during your psychotic episode, but it IS mine and I kinda need it to get around in the winter. If you could return it to the bar for me, check in with your shrink, and promise to never come near me again that would be great, cause you scared the #*$% outta me and are costing me alot of money. Sincerely, Very cold/poor motorcycle rider who will never let women near his bike again.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Seattle <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-07T05:23:22-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/471479867.html To the Drunk Hottie who fell off my motorcycle text To Olympia Employers http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/467092058.html <h1 align="CENTER">Dear Olympia Employers:</h1> <div> </div> I am writing this on behalf of myself and all other frustrated male job-seekers in the Olympia area. I am going to delineate a few crucial points that you need to know before you talk to another potential new employee. <ol> <li>I understand and practice the philosophy of punctuality - that is why I was on time for the interview and you weren't. You should certainly stress the urgency of punctuality, but should not: <ol> <li>Take more than ten minutes to detail this concept, or </li> <li>Take more than ten minutes explaining how you really don't expect anyone other than yourself and your other management staff to be capable of understanding its importance. If you genuinely believed this you wouldn't be wasting so much time expounding upon it. </li> </ol> </li> <li>If, though some amazing chance, you actually hire me, please get it through your head now that I owe you no favors. You pay me to do something unpleasant and boring, and I do it promptly with a smile while saying ``Sure thing!''. Our mutual obligations to each other end there. I am not here to provide advice for fixing your home computer, picking up your laundry, doing your telephone calls, shopping for muffins for your kid's school presentation, or whatever overprivileged bullcrap you've decided is beneath you today. I do not care about you, nor can you ever pay me enough to. As this is an opinion you're more than happy to express towards me, I thought it might be good for your mental health to consider it as applied to you. </li> <li>I do not regard you as an amazing, fascinating, social and business success, regardless of our respective social positions, and therefore it is not an honor to be in your company. If you aren't going to let me do the work you pay me for, you hovering pointlessly over the top of me discussing what Mary said last weekend is pointless, wasteful, and annoying. If I choose to quit because of your intolerable personality kindly refrain from acting surprised or hurt - as has already been stated, we both know we both don't care. Save your acting efforts for the Academy, or for your own boss when you're attempting to poorly rationalize unusually high employee turnover. </li> <li>Lecturing me about time management when you're an hour late and about to leave for another hour to acquire pre-meeting donuts is simply moronic. Do it and know as a concrete reality that we're pissing in your coffee. You don't pay us enough to be that openly hypocritical. Do it, say, three times really openly and I walk with a little happy smile on my face. </li> <li>Get it through your head that neither I nor anyone else believes that you are in any way a superior being due to your position. Power and wealth in our society are beautifully ephemeral - we all know that due to a single report, an awkward balance sheet, or the president's son nicking the retirement accounts and going to Cancun, that you can be applying for work managing 7-11's tomorrow, just like me. You are on top right now - therefore, soon, you won't, statistically speaking. So simply watch your attitude and your mouth, as the underlings you are lecturing are actually your peers. </li> <li>Leave your gadgets alone when you're talking to me. If you're truly that vitally important, then it's in your best interests to state what's on your mind in a crisp, clear, articulate fashion and fuck off as fast as possible - then you can answer your phone or play with your Blackberry or look at your porn on your iPhone, whatever. Just go away while you do it, as I'm not paid to admire your toys, nor do I care. </li> <li>Make the standard statement about discouraging web-surfing at work, and then shut your mouth and move on. I understand why you have to say it. I also understand that I was a network admin for the 90's, and know better than anyone exactly how the upper echelon amuses itself on its computers when no one's looking. Furthermore, I'm bright enough to make friends and buy lunch for an IT intern who will gossip with me about what they've spotted, as they always do. So you let me view Craigslist on my lunch hour, and in return we won't discuss in any way those images you took down in Tijuana that are probably skating on the ragged edge of legality, which you've been storing on the company server and printing out at night on the high-quality laser printer with the glossy white paper with the high clay content. You're not fooling anyone, jackass. Move on with your spiel, and if you manage to get through it without blushing too much we'll both regard it as a win. </li> <li>Since I am a man, the women that interview / work with me need to stop oscillating wildly betwen acting cute and flirty (when they want something), or alternately icily feminist (when they wish to crush visible maleness that threatens them). I am unimpressed and unmoved by either maneuver - I have babysat many young aged-three-to-six sister-siblings and recognize feminine juvenile passive-aggressiveness when I see it. Save your bipolar bullshit for meetings where you have an audience, and I can make an excuse and be absent. <ol> <li>When a woman at work, particularly a boss, uses that fake squeaky-little-girl voice to whine and manipulate, I want to knock them unconcious with a bound ream of copier paper. I won't do it, and never have. But I thought you should know. </li> <li>When a lesbian at work, partiuclarly a boss, uses that fake ``masculine'' growling strangled Bart Simpson voice to wave their phantom penis, I have a similar feeling, one that's a lot harder to resist. You should know that too. </li> <li>Both of the above statements go triple for the goddamned thirty-something neo-jocks who keep trying to pretend they aren't fathers with mortgages while using that ``Dude'' voice. You're wearing a tie. Let's drop the illusion that you went to Burning Man last year. </li> </ol> </li> <li>Feminists: Just fucking knock it off. Whether you privately regard me as subhuman or not, wipe that expression of permanent, bitter condescension off your withered face. If I even looked at you in passing at the grocery story the way you do, you would call the police for feeling ``threatened'' before I could say 'Andrea Dworkin'. While you are interviewing me, we are going to talk under the pretense that you do not live at the top of a mile-high ivory tower. That means that you will make eye contact, smile, use complete sentences, standard polite honorifics (``please'', ``thank you''), refrain from the standard insulting phrases (``the male of the species''), choke down the endless traditional nagging male-hating social commentary, and behave as you would have the hot Asian intern chick behave towards you when you two take the company car and go out for a two-hour lunch. If you don't, I have no compunction about walking out of the interview in the middle of your sentence. After all, as you've reassured us on many occasions, there are plenty of jobs digging ditches out there. Why should I extend to you courtesy you have no understanding of and no mechanism of reciprocating? </li> <li>When I am in trouble, written up, or fired, by all means do what you need to do with gusto, but don't threaten me. As an employee, I already have come to terms with the idea that you regard yourself as above me. However, you don't pay me enough to voice judgements about my marriage, religion, home life, family, social & political views, dress, appearance, or personality aside from those aspects that are directly the cause of my firing. Call me into your office, say your piece in three sentences, and have me escorted out. Do any more than that to masturbate your ego and I will do my best to see how much phlegm I can spontaneously expectorate upon your hideous overexpensive silk shirt. Save your phantom penis-waving for some Evergreen college grad who's too stupid and inexperienced to know any better. You have never paid me or any employee enough to have the privilege of having a temper tantrum at us to make yourself feel better. We're workers, not agony aunts. You need to scream, go play raquetball or take it out on your au pair. </li> <li>Promote whoever you like, whenever you like, using any specious logic you like - I'll be a good boy and keep on pluggin'. However, you do not pay me enough to require me to like or approve of it. If you promote someone over me and I'm disappointed, I'm going to be disappointed. You have no right whatsoever to expect me to be otherwise. If you don't like it, fire me and get someone else who's more marshmallowy for your needs. What kind of employer is so weak and cowardly that they require their employee's hearts and minds to adhere to their will? Is the work done, and well? Great, then cram it, Big Brother, we've got units to move. </li> <li>Yell at me for anything you like, provided you're not committing exactly the same fault in exactly the same way at the exact same time - or I walk. Yes, my ego can take that. No, you're not going to lecture me for inappropriate computer usage when I know you have Web pages with huge beautiful black asses sitting right on your screen. Hypocrisy of that blatant level requires nothing more than a calm, serene ``fuck you'' and a discreet, quick collection of personal belongings, followed by exit. If you find this unreasonable, you are a waste of life as a human being and as an economic force in the business world. Good business-level hypocrisy requires more cleverness and subtlety than you're capable of exhibiting. </li> <li>I know that in this nepotistic town that your friends and family are probably either <ol> <li>Very, very, very white Christian people who drive trucks and are ex-military and have cowboy hats and secretly hold beliefs that are a weird mix of Calvinism and Aryan Nation, or </li> <li>Very, very, very white crusty neohippies who drive Mommy's used Lexus and smoke pot and smell bad while constantly critiquing all efforts of all others in a perfect storm of limp-dicked estrogenic offensensitivity. </li> <li>As a result, all of you are only trying to hire members of your tribe. I am not of either of your tribe, as in non-employment life I loathe both of you. If either one of you were the progressive, forward-thinking genuises you portray yourselves to be, why then do both of you keep trying to categorize me on the other side? </li> <li>Even if such a categorization attempt were rational or feasible, why on earth are both of you idiots so BAD at it? You ask your clever leading questions to try and learn my religion and politics, and whatever answer you like it isn't zealous enough. Why are you even wasting my fucking time? Just call your half-brother Earl and be done with it, and quit wasting honest people's valuable time. </li> </ol> </li> <li>My suggestion is that you treat me with the direct precision, efficiency, straightforwardness, and lack of emotion you expect from me - in return, I will work hard, be honest, do what I'm told, and keep my mouth shut with equal neurological indifference. </li> <li>You won't do this, of course, because then where would your sense of unwarranted self-importance come from, Baby Boomer? </li> <li>All this being stated, I look forward to an efficient, effective, direct, productive experience working with you. </li> <li>I do not expect it, but I do look forward to it, as despite your best efforts my optimism isn't quite crushed. </li> </ol> Sincerely, A Potential Employee   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Olympia <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-02T13:02:17-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/467092058.html To Olympia Employers text To the lady handing out Jesus pamphlets to us trick-or-treaters http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/465979897.html Thanks for nothing. No, seriously. Do you have any idea how much work I put into my costume? It took me almost 3 hours to do the makeup alone. Every detail painstakingly thought of and completed, right down to the little scratches on the hands and the grazings and cuts on the arms and legs. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find a suitable shield and sword? Or how about the battle uniform? I bet you didn't even consider that perhaps it was actually straight off the movie set. Well, it was. It wasn't cheap, doing all this. I was the one that incurred those expenses, not my parents. I burned the income from more hours of my after-school job than I would care to admit on that damn costume, all to amuse and impress people like you. And I did it with the expectation that there would be a return on my investment; namely in the form of candy. Sweet, sugary goodness. Heck, even money would have been fine--some of your neighbors did just that. Loot conveniently placed into that huge sack; and what's more, I would even be willing to walk all over town collecting it so that people didn't have to deliver it to me. Yes, the outfit, the sword, the shield, the sack...all very heavy; close to 60 pounds in all that I pack-muled all over town, but no pain no gain, right? This was to be my last year of the trick or treating thing. I'm getting a little too tall, a little too old. This was my grand finale; my blaze of glory, my shining farewell. Sure, I could have 'dressed up' like a teenager like so many others I saw on the streets last night, but I wanted to go out in style. Let it never be said I was unwilling to work for my loot. Your house seemed so promising as I approached. 3 nicely carved pumpkins, some of that fake spider webbing, even one of those fog machines. I had you pegged for a Sour Patch Kids person. So imagine my surprise when, after trudging up your ridiculously steep driveway and ringing your doorbell, your bulbous ass appeared with a basket full of stuff that was most definitely NOT candy. Before I could pull back, you had already reached a claw into the basket, pulled out that little booklet, and seemingly-annoyingly tossed it into my bag. What's worse is your saggy old ass actually appeared to expect me to say thank you for it. Trick or treat indeed, you old hag. When I got home to divide out the fruits of my labor, my worst fears were confirmed: It was one of those Jehovah's Witness 'God loves you' pamphlets. I thought you delusional psychopaths didn't even believe in holidays and didn't celebrate them. What, annoying me by waking me up early on a Saturday morning by beating down my door to try and convert me not enough, so you have to resort to trickery? What on Earth would have made you think I, or anyone else, had any interest in getting one of those from you, you fat sow? Your house was fairly large, in a nice part of town. Was it just that you were too much of a cheap cum drizzling gutter slut to spend a few bucks on some bags of candy instead of getting those booklets free from your 'church'? You're even worse than that jerk that gave me a toothbrush--at least I can shave the handle of his gift into a prison shank and use it for protection next time one of my classmates decides to bring an Uzi to school and shoot the place up. What am I supposed to do with your thing? Hold it up to him and yell out "The power of Christ compels you!"? I mean really, why would anyone think that on Halloween people are open to being converted into believing in some invisible sky fairy that magically grants wishes if you beg it hard enough and donate some of your money to its church? Do you not even understand the point? Again, thanks for nothing. I'm sure when your gargantuan ass rolled out of bed this morning, shimmied into your mumu and waddled out front to get your newspaper you were quite surprised. Allow me to explain. Your pumpkins were deceitfully carved and placed to lure unsuspecting children into your GodTrap. Therefore, they needed to be smashed all over your porch. And those spider web things were just hanging there, so it seemed a perfect place to hang the gunk from the pumpkins on so they would properly dry out for future baking. Your neighbors ended up giving me just a little over 9 dollars by the time it was all said and done, which was just enough for me to buy a few rolls of toilet paper, some saran wrap a small package of bologna and a Blow Pop from the store. The TP you found strewn all over anything in your yard it would hang from or stick to is Quilted Northern, double ply--let it never be said that I am a cheap corner-cutting individual such as yourself. The cold cuts? Well, I had to make some sort of a bread crumb trail to bring your attention to how I had so thoughtfully gift wrapped your car in the saran wrap, and I figured bread crumbs wouldn't be cholesterol-ridden enough to be tempting enough to motivate your thunderous girth to follow it. I thought about using lard or butter, but there's always the risk of it raining and washing away. And the Blow Pop? Nay, it was not for me; that is my gift to you--lovingly placed upon your welcome mat, a friendly reminder of an example of what you SHOULD have been handing out last night. Plus, I figure sucking is something that comes naturally to you, so you would find it a welcome treat. Oh, and thank you for the fog machine. It's lovely, and I will put it to use next year when I join the ranks of people who are behind the door handing out the candy as opposed to in front of it collecting. I did all this not for myself, you see. Nay, the damage was already done for me, there was no making it right. I did this to protect my fellow trick-or-treaters that will carry on the torch next year and continue in the tradition as I hang up my pillow case and look back at a fruitful candy-gathering career. Hopefully this will inspire you to just do us all a favor and leave your god damned light OFF next Halloween instead of luring unsuspecting youngsters into your bible-thumping web of horror. I'm sure a night of darkness shouldn't be hard for you, since I'm positive every man who's ever gotten drunk enough to sleep with you probably still demanded pitch black while he did the deed. Happy Halloween, you shriveled up old bat. Sincerely, King Leonidas  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-01T10:53:48-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/465979897.html To the lady handing out Jesus pamphlets to us trick-or-treaters text 1930s Lathe http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/398050816.html 1930s lathe for sale, salvaged from an East coast adult toy manufacturer. The lathe was used in the production of dildos from the 1930s to 1990s when the manufacturing plant was razed. Can turn plastic and wood blanks from 6 to 18 inches in length, and 2 to 5 inches in diameter. Lathe also includes a reaming tool attachment which was used for hollowing the center core of the dildo. The lathe is in working order, electric motor driven, and manufactured by Atlas. Face Plate Diameter: 4 inches -- I also have a 6-inch face plate, which I will sell separtely, in case you need to produce pieces of larger girths. Shaft size: 3/4 inch, 16 threads per inch (TPI)   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Poulsbo <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-08-15T17:23:45-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/398050816.html 1930s Lathe text 9.6 http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/394614542.html Okay, so you know that feeling that you get maybe an hour or hour and a half after eating that gives you a first faint inkling, a small surge of fear that maybe the food was bad? It's followed by cramping, then watery tidal sounds from below the equator. Then by recalling everything you ate - fish, fries, lemon, malt vinegar...TARTER SAUCE! Shit! I bet the tarter sauce was bad! Oh hell, I'm going to blow from every orifice any minute! Now, I am not one my first lap in the pool of life, so of course, I immediately implemented Emergency Response Plan Shitstorm: 1. Immediately make any plausible excuse to step away from the client. 2. Ask the lovely new coworker you're secretly crushing on to take over with the client (double benefit - she is glad to have the opportunity, and she will be nowhere near the desk the newest person has been given right next to the bathroom). 3. Now feeling the second wave of cramps; sweat and beginning to taste a little metallic in the increasing saliva that is rising in your mouth, you begin race-walking to the can. Race-walking has two benefits: it is a bit quicker than walking, and it allows you to clamp firmly on your sphincter while you rush to the relief station. 4. Say a quick prayer to the porcelain gods that all stalls will be unoccupied. 5. As you reach the door to the bathroom, begin unclasping belt and buttons. 6. Scan for open stalls while completing step 5. 7. Dash to a stall while lowering trousers to half mast. Shout warning to anyone else present - "Save yourself! Get out NOW!" 8. As you pivot and begin lowering your butt to the toilet seat, flick the stall door shut and the lock with it. Combining these three moves saves time! Precious time... 9. Sit, relax the sphincter and ride out the storm. Properly implemented, this plan should save you just enough time to get your ass in place, with a good seal to prevent blow back just as the gallant sphincter gives it up. Unfortunately, because I stood that extra second or two after my instincts told me I had hideous diarrhea on the way - I was arguing with myself that maybe it was just gas - I didn't quite get a good seal before Vesuvius Crapitanus erupted. The one other person in the room was heard to exclaim, "Holy Shit!" and "Oh my God, man!" This last was heard from the hallway just before the door slammed shut. Once the eruptions slowed, then stopped, I began secondary response procedures - look to see if there is toilet paper...YES! Did it spray forward onto my pants...NO! Did it...oh fuck! A two foot high, glistening wall of brownish green slime covers the back of the seat, tank, wall and my white shirt. That two seconds of denial had kept me from getting a good seal. I'd have to improvise a new secondary response procedure to clean up. Remove shirt and wipe seat and wall. Clean self as best possible with toilet paper. Soap and water at the sink. Having cleaned as best I could, I knew I only had minutes to get to my apartment before the nausea hit. Calmly as possible, I exited the bathroom, hoping to sneak shirtless down the back stairs. As I left the bathroom, another guy walked in. A second later, he came back out, gagging "Call 911, someone died in there!" I was on the stairs, then out the door, then in my car. I made it home, spent the next 36 hours with my porcelain savior, and hoped that the new woman had made a sale. Or at least hadn't heard about the bathroom disaster and the wild-eyed, shirtless coworker seen running from the scene! I'll know tomorrow. I did everything right, followed the playbook perfectly, but that one hesitation - the one that made me too slow - kept me from getting a good seal. And that little hesitation may just keep me from enchanting my crush, or it may even mean I need to get a new job, depending on the nicknames they've come up with for me. Still, I give myself a 9.6 because I did everything flawlessly except for sticking the landing. The other judge, who is from Romania and is a janitor when he's not judging, might give me a lower score. Damn. (Aside to Romanian judge: Dude, I did the best I could with just a shirt. I'd have done better with a disinfectant cleaner and a mop. There'll be a bottle of pear brandy in your cart on Monday.) Moral: "Good instincts usually tell you what to do long before your head has figured it out." Trust your instincts. Oh, and get a good seal.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Didn't get a good seal <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-08-11T10:40:47-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/394614542.html 9.6 text Too much to ask? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/393065630.html Maybe this is asking too much, but . . I'm looking for inspiration and was wondering if there are any Seattle women out there who would be willing to share some of their goddess-energy with me, to put some spark in my day: I would really like to see your tits. I don’t want to be your boyfriend, significant other, etc. We shouldn't need to meet. Online is preferred, since I don’t want to compromise you in any way. I don’t want your phone number, address, . . . nothing. I don’t need to see your face, just your tits. I promise I won’t contact you or touch myself in any way. I’m not a pervert and I promise that I won’t try to phone you to whisper, “so, uh, what are you wearing right now?” because actually I’ll be looking at your tits and I’ll know that you’re not wearing anything. I’m really a pretty decent, respectful guy; and I want to see your tits. I’m not looking for you to “flash” me your tits; this isn't Friday. I don't have any gripes with Flash Friday, and applaud any woman who flashes for fun. But this is different. If you'll excuse the expression, this isn't about titillation; this isn’t about sex: If I wanted to see just any old tits, well, I’ve heard rumors that there might be some secret sites on the Internet where I could maybe find pictures of actual breasts. But I don’t want that. I want you. I want your attitude. Real woman. Real tits. Real attitude. I want to know that somewhere in this city there is a woman who knows about the power of her own tits and isn’t afraid of that power. What your tits look like really doesn’t matter. Big tits, small tits, round tits, sagging tits, pointy, pierced, painted, pristine, powdered, pert, perky or pendulous tits. Bring ‘em all. I don't care about your age (18+) or your ethnicity. Bring ‘em. I need your tits. Flat-chested? Great! Bring your tits, because do you really think I'm going to be inspired by the lobular glands hanging off your chest? Is that what I’m talking about? No, I need to see your attitude. I need your “happy tit” attitude. I need to know that there are women who want to shake their tits at the night sky and howl like a wolf. Can you feel the energy, just thinking about it?! You think America was built on the backs of immigrants? Wrong! America was built by immigrant women, on their backs, shagging like monkeys, making a new generation of Americans! And THAT’S what I’m talking about! The creative, life-sustaining power of women and their tits. I need some of that serious tit-mojo. They’re so fun! Like upside-down apple-bobbing with soft, warm apples. Tits make me so happy! Post-breastfeeding tits? Don’t you try to hide your tits away! You move straight to the front row! You are the Life-Giver! You create the future. You are a walking miracle! You are beyond beautiful! I need to see your life-giving happy tits. We should all be on our knees respecting your miraculous-mommy happy tits, rubbing them with perfumed oil. (I would volunteer for that; let me know.) Behind every great man, there’s a great woman, rubbing her tits on his back. And in front of every great woman, is a pair of tits. Two of ‘em. Two happy tits. Tits are everywhere, and yet certain cranky people in our society try to keep them locked up out of sight. Why? It's so clearly wrong. Tits bring people together, in a happy, friendly way. They’re always cuddly and fun. I don’t want some porn-industry, air-brushed, media-approved, silicone-infected, professional skin-jockey. I want you, and your real, happy, Seattle-Washington tits. Are you really going to let the failed moral standards of a repressive, patriarchal, Puritanical society stop you from showing me your tits? Think of the poor, sad Puritan pilgrim-woman, with her tits all bound up and hidden away. Are you going to let them get away with that?! No, you’re not! You’re going to laugh and smile and shake your tits in the face of The Man. (I would happily represent that Man if you had any symbolic civil disobedience planned. Let me know if I can help out.) You’re going to send me a picture of your happy, bouncy tits. The world needs your tit-energy! And you’re not going to listen to the sour-faced, self-appointed “feminists” who want to spread their toxic life-hatred (‘Our women are being manipulated and objectified as mere sex-objects . .” Piss off, bitch! Keep your twisted, frigid analysis to yourself.) Fuck ‘em! Fuck the bitter haters! They’re your tits! Your body! Your power! Tit power! It’s not Puritan-time anymore! It’s the twenty-first century, and you’re going to show me your tits not because you’re being manipulated, or because you’re a slut, or because you're being paid, but because you are FREE! FREEDOM!!!! It’s your choice, your body, and you can shake your tits like a wild woman! (Wild = untamed, free) Right here in the good ol' US of A! Land of the Free (free-swinging, enjoying-the-open-air tits), Home of the Brave (brave woman who is even now wondering how to operate her web-cam). O-o, say can you see my tits? (no, I can't because you haven't sent me the picture yet) But, you’re thinking, “I’m not the kind of woman who would show my tits to a stranger.” Yes, dear one, yes, you are, because today is the day where you declare your independence and take full ownership of your tits. You’re going to enter a new head-space. They’re your tits, and you can show them to whoever you want (today, that’d be me). I’m pleading with you. Don’t accept the lies. Don’t accept the mental shackles. I have a confession: I was actually born a nudist. Yes, it’s true. But then someone, without my permission, put clothes on me and brainwashed me to think that it was “normal” to wear clothes. Completely tweaked my head. And it’s so hard to live outside that mental prison. And someone did a head-job on you too. They made you think your tits are somehow “wrong”. In fact, there are actually laws that say your tits are “indecent”. Evil, repressive laws. Your tits are never wrong or bad. Your happy tits are always wonderful. Your tits are always life-positive, life-affirming! And you can do it! I have faith in you. You can show me your tits and you’ll feel great about yourself. Tits are everywhere! So good and happy and bouncy and fun! And there are tits in space now! Outerspace tits! But does NASA share? No, no they don’t, the uptight, small-minded bastards. Do they ever show pictures of happy tits in zero-g? No, they don't. Bastards. It would be so easy, and the world would be such a better place. I love it when a woman shows a little cleavage in public. It’s like saying, “I’m nurturing, playful, tender, caring, strong and sexy as hell. I am the life-creator. I love my tits and I love being a woman.” I really love that attitude! I need to see your spirit, your joie de vivre! (that's French for “happy tits”). “Million Man March”? Lame, lame, candy-ass lame. You want to see the world truly change? You want to see a revolution? Put a million bare-chested women down at the Washington Mall. Two Million Tits. The world would CHANGE! Love-centered! Life-affirming! Am I right or what? Your tits have power! You know they do! So, here's the deal: A) First, you should meet the following criteria. These are important, because the whole point of this is that I want to witness your real-time, in-the-moment, love of your wonderful womanhood and your bouncy goddess-given gifts: 1. you should have happy tits 2. you should be proud of your happy tits, and you should try to live up to the high ideals that your tits represent (love of self and others, life-positive, the future is important, etc.) 3. you should feel no shame about doing this. I want you to be happy and frickin' proud about being a woman and about your happy tits. You're doing this because YOU want to do it, because you know this is a liberating sacred gesture, because baring your breasts is an act of self-affirmation. And I want to bear witness. 4. you should live somewhere in or near Seattle (I want this to be real, I want to feel a connection; however, if you're in the Space Shuttle and you want to send me a picture of your happy tits in zero-g, that would be okay too. If the Space Needle is the best you can do, I would understand what you're trying to achieve, and I would appreciate it, really) 5. your happy tits should be unhampered, bra-less, free and easy, unashamed, proud and happy. but, whipped cream would be okay, as would cake frosting, chocolate syrup or most any other happy food. cold oatmeal or hospital food = not happy, not okay. got it? B) Second, take a picture of your happy tits. Close your eyes and think about what a miracle you are, about your potential as a woman. When you feel the self-love, when you feel your own power, when you truly feel that your tits are a force for Good in our world, snap the picture, and send it to me. C) Third, you will spend the rest of the day feeling happy, liberated and free. You're friends will ask you, "why are you smiling so much?" and you'll just smirk and stifle a laugh, but feel REALLY happy, ELATED even. I will spend the rest of the day with a big smile on my face, grinning like an idiot, touched by the joy-giving power of your happy tits. People will see us, each living our own private lives, being really happy, and will realize that life is actually pretty good, and then they'll feel happy too. And other people will be inspired by their happiness, and so on, and so on . . . and your happy tits could send shockwaves of happiness through the city. You have that power! All kidding aside, I truly love and respect women and I love their happy tits. Is that really so wrong? Tits are NOT sex organs, yet our whole society is afraid of them!! (“Mustn’t let children see them!!! Cover their eyes!!!”) What’s up with that! I mean seriously, WHAT THE FUCK??!!! The strongest metaphor for mother-goddess energy, and they’ve been banned as being indecent!! Huh??!! You think maybe it has something to do with keeping women down? Hmm? Maybe? So, send me a picture of your tits. Thanks in advance. You're wonderful! Be Proud!  <img src=393065630.jpg>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-08-09T10:41:37-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/393065630.html Too much to ask? text To the gay guy that I inadvertantly flirted with. Sorry. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/340769234.html Alright, I know what you're thinking (and by "you're", i'm referring to my homophobic friends who will be muttering innappropriate slurs under their breath about me. Or maybe yelling them. I dunno, they're jerks), but you can forget it. I'm not gay; there is absolutely nothing wrong with it, i've got several gay friends that are awesome, but i just prefer women. I'm man enough to admit that i did this, so you can leave your "i knew it", or "that explains a lot" comments to yourself. That being said, I did in fact flirt with a gay guy. This was quite alarming to me, as I am straight. Being straight, I usually don't flirt with dudes, other than my friends. But i refer to that as more like "Bromance" or "Bromosexuality" rather than being gay. There's a quite distinct difference. Bromance is basically a bunch of dudes hangin out, probably drinking copious amounts of beer, and there might be a random slap on the ass or nut slap. Here and there, one of my friends will grab the back of the neck of a friend and force his head into his crotch, thus making him "suck it". these shananegans are all in good fun, and as long as you arent doing this to strangers (which some of us do when blacked-out drunk and this can be problematic), you are usually alright. Well, i didnt do any of that with this dude, but nonetheless i realize now that i should have been more prudent. So the setting of this situation is none other than off the coast of Lagos, Portugal, on a booze cruise boat. There are approximately 40 people, mostly Canadians, Americans, and Aussies, just drinkin, listening to music, and having a good time. Well, at the time, i was wearing my trunks and a white hat, just basically catching some rays. I'm walking around, chatting up random strangers, when this dude comes up to me and pours a glass of wine on me. Now, considering I'm drunk, shirtless, and I can just jump in the water literally at any time, I do not take offense to this action. I simply reach up with my left hand and pour my beer on him. Like, the entire thing. Normally (and at the moment) I would think that this was really funny. I laughed and kept on walking around. Now, an isolated incident such as this is (and was not) anything to cause alarm. However, the exact same turn of events transpired a few minutes later. I sorta chuckled and thought that "this must be what happens on booze cruises in Portugal." Well, i talked to him a little bit, nothing that i can remember, except that i was able to ascertain that he was from either Australia or New Zealand. I sometimes can't really tell the difference between the accents. Anyways, i moved on again, hung out with my friends, got pretty drunk, swam a little, went on a cave tour in a boat, basically had a good time. When i got back onto the boat, this lad settled next to me once again and for a third time, poured wine on me. This time, i was much drunker, and much less in the mood. Plus he got some red wine on my white hat. This pissed me off, bad. Plus, i was beginning to become suspicious of this guy. I couldnt quite place it, but something was amiss. So, instead of pouring more of my beer on him again, i simply said to him: "dude, stop fuckin pouring shit on me, seriously." at that, he apologized and walked off, presumably fairly crestfallen. I enjoyed the rest of the cruise, helped some ridiculously drunk ass people off the boat (literally carried one girl) and settled back into our hostel (incidently and maybe a little ironically named "the rising cock".) That's when i started telling my friend and her sister about that one kid who kept pouring beer on me. That's when they graciously informed me that he was, without a doubt, gay. Apparently girls come equipped with a much more sensitive and powerful "Gaydar" and can tell pretty much instantly if a man is gay or straight. My gaydar had been showing clear skies all day, and thus i had failed to notice the "bogey on my six", if you know what i'm sayin. Upon hearing this valuable information, i began to hyperventilate. I thought back to the events of the day and came to a horrifying realization: I had actually been flirting with the guy by pouring my beer on him and laughing. I literally could hear those "reee reee reee reee reee" noises in my head, strait out of the twilight zone, as i began putting it all together. Ok damage assessment: I had flirted with him by pouring beer on him. Had i "led him on" in any other way??! I hadn't slapped him on the ass or flicked him in the balls as i am known to do with my buddies. I definately hadn't made him "suck it" at any time on the cruise. I racked my brain and could come up with nothing, and so i began to settle down. I ate some food, sobered up, and began to feel alright again. It really wasn't that bad. i just won't tell anyone about it and my reputation as a heterosexual, trustworthy guy amongst my homophobic friends would be intact. Well, i avoided this dude like the plague for the rest of the time i was in Lagos, and i thought that i was home free. About a week and a half later, after splitting off from my friends i arrived alone in Granada, Spain, and checked into a hostel. I went to go throw my shit in my room when i found, much to my chagrin, that i was sharing a room, along with like 12 other people, with the infamous wine pouring gay guy from Lagos. He immediately came over and apologized for pouring so much liquor on me that day (he must have realized that i wasn't also gay). i just replied: "don't worry about it dude, tons of people were pouring booze on me that day", and then i changed the subject. so, yeah. sorry for leading you on. My bad.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: the love boat <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-05-29T15:43:50-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/340769234.html To the gay guy that I inadvertantly flirted with. Sorry. text From your receptionist (Otherwise known as office bitch) http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/336338121.html First of all, I have been here for over three years now. I know what I am doing. I do not need you to tell me how to use the phone system. The phone system sucks by the way. It is outdated and can not do all kinds of nifty things that brand new phone systems can do. This means you can not bitch at me when a call gets dropped, or when your voice mail box is full and you can't get into it from the outside. It is FULL, obviously it will not let you in. If you care that much, then buy me a new phone system with the proper voice mail capacity and we will both be much happier campers. My job is to sit at the front desk from 8 am to 5 pm every day. Sometimes I get the miraculous luxury of leaving a half hour early or so. When I leave early I lock the door behind me. If you are expecting someone at 5 pm for an appointment it is your duty to tell me so. As I do not set appointments for any of you, I will not know you have a 5-er unless you tell me you do. Even when I stay until 5, I really only stay until about 4:55 anyway, so if you have a 5-er, let's just assume it best for you to tell me so that I do not lock them out before they arrive. I don't mind staying, I know it is my job to stay, but every single one of you leaves early any chance you get, so do not expect me to stay one single second past 5 unless it has been specifically pre-arranged. Which brings me to another point. I have a life. I have a life outside of this godforsaken office that I am trapped in for 9 hours a day. If we incude the 7.5 hours I like for sleep and 1.5 hours for working out, that only leaves me 6 hours a day in which I can live my life, have fun, fulfill obligations, pay bills, run errands, watch tv, clean my house, and hopefully meet friends for alcohol to try and forget this place for a little while. Yes, I know that once I graduate with some fancy piece of paper and start my own office I can work the hours I like, but I just want you to be aware that while you're out gallavanting at coffee shops and the gym and shopping at Crate and Barrell on your three hour lunch, I am here answering your calls from people you haven't called back in a zillion days because you're too busy taking three hour lunches to return their calls. Maybe I'll just start telling them that you are so busy taking a three hour lunch that you just do not have time to do the work they are paying you to do. Speaking of taking calls from annoying people; this takes up a whole lot of my day. I've got spouses calling over and over again. I tell them you are on the phone, but they still call every 17 seconds to see if you're off the phone yet. I've got people calling for other people who have not worked here in years. I tell them that said person has not worked here for years, in which the caller inevitably asks "do you have a new number for them?" NO! I do not have a new number for them. I have worked here for three years. In that time many other people have come and gone. It is not my duty to remain every person who has every worked here's receptionist. Unless I became friends with the person who worked here and still see them from time to time, I will not have their new number. If it is so important for you to get a hold of them, you should have updated your stupid contact info three years or more ago when they changed numbers from this one. Other annoying callers include the "will you just tell him I called?" No. I have 12 people I answer the phone for many many times a day. I can take a message if you ask very nicely and stick it in the box up front where the person may check like once a week or so. If it is so urgent and you need to talk to them, either take their voice mail like I offered you ten seconds ago, or don't expect to hear back from them till next week. Also, I will not interrupt a meeting, just "knock on their door really quick" and let them know it's you, interrupt their current phone call, stick a note under their nose or any such other annoying idea you come up with. Unless and only unless they have specifically given me your name and said "If so and so calls, please interrupt me." If they have not given me that specification, there will be no interrupting, and the only thing you will get by being pushy is a pissed off receptionist. And, we remember voices of annoying ass bastards, so once you piss the gatekeeper off, it's pretty much over for you. Now that I am finished bitching out the stupid callers, let's get back to office matters, shall we? Do not move my stamp, steal my pens, borrow my scissors or stapler, move things on my desk, or reposition my phone. If you happen to borrow something while I'm not here, put it back. I am almost detective-like in my "area" and can tell immediately in the morning if something has been touched. I will then wander through the entire suite and yes, into your office space as well, looking for my stuff. If I find it, I will take it back. Get over it. Also, don't leave notes outside of my inbox as though yours is the most important. I come in and arrange everything and prioritize my day. Unless your note contains a true emergency it will go in the stack in order of importance, just like everyone else's, so I don't want to hear that "did you get my note this morning" bullshit. Yeah, I got it, and it is obligation # 27 out of 50 I have today, so wait your damn turn. Be nice to the equipment. You slamming the top of the copy machine will not make it work any better contrary to popular belief around here. Also, yes I CAN get the jam out of the fax machine, so don't ask me to with a big ol attitude like I caused it or something. If the toner is out, let me know. It's my job to put another cartridge in. It is NOT my job to clean up black powder all over the counter and floor when you try it and don't know what the hell you're doing. Also to the super neurotic freak lady: You standing around pushing buttons and freaking out being in my way and talking about things you know nothing about will not help me to find that random staple in the feeder and fix the copier jam any faster. Get the fuck out tha way and let me do my thang. My final gripe of the day is the kitchen. Oh good lord the freakin' kitchen. We have one fridge. For lots of people. On Monday I had to dump out an un-opened half gallon of milk that was dated a month ago. Luckily it didn't smell too bad yet, but I just don't understand how you people can not keep track of your food. If it is past the expiration date, then throw it out. I swear one of these days I am just going to throw everything out and then you bastards will all have to start over in collecting your funky-ass science experiments. Another note about the fridge... I have worked here, as I said, for over three years. I have my little "spot" in the fridge where I keep my yogurt, juice and lunches. It takes up a small space. Stop MOVING my stuff around. I don't want my leftovers from dinner last night that I am eating for lunch today anywhere near your leftovers from two weeks ago. My leftovers could catch a disease from that proximity to yours. By they way, dude who constantly drinks pop and ice? You drop ice cubes on the floor all the time. You never pick them up. They then melt and leave a puddle on the floor. One of these days I am going to go in there and slip in your stupid ice puddle and break something. If I break something of MINE then I will surely crawl into your office and break something of YOURS, so stop dropping shit and not picking it up. Do you behave the same at home? If so I am surprised you're still married. Besides you should stop drinking all that pop. It is surely contributing to your rotten mouth which ranks up the office with your funk breath. I am not kidding, I have been in the hall OUTSIDE your office and can smell the rankness eminating. Disgusting. Since I am office bitch, it is my duty to take the garbage outside. (I really should be able to wear jeans and t-shirts to work if I am going to be garbage bitch instead of these nice clothes you expect me to wear. A side point being that you really should pay me more since I have to buy one wardrobe for work and one for home but I digress...) I am definitely not washing the rotten mold funk that is growing in the bottom of the cans. I lift the bags out of the cans and throw them away. If the kitchen stinks because of the funk and the stench is bothering you then YOU clean the cans out. I do not get paid enough to deal with that nastiness. As I have surely gone on quite long enough, I will stop now. There are plenty more office annoyances but I really don't want to get personal with each one of you, though I could. Let's just keep it fairly general for now, and get to the point. I like all of you for the most part, but stop being retarded. Thank you.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: No windows hell <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-05-22T16:13:45-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/336338121.html From your receptionist (Otherwise known as office bitch) text To my Ex-GF's Cat http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/333295779.html I don't miss her, but I miss you. You are the only cat I ever liked...and I think you liked me as I'm the only person you let pick up and walk around with. Sure, you were crabby, sounded like a rusty can when you were meowing, would ignore the laser pointer and got pissed at me when I needed to work and not pet you. Oh sure, you'd complain and make me feel bad for feeding you the same thing and at the same time as her other 2 cats, but did you notice I'd always slip you a piece of meat from my dinner plate? I know you were old and stairs were not as easy as they used to be, so I was always secretly glad and flattered to hear your voice by the bedroom door when I'd stay over. I know her kids liked the other animals in the house more then you, and I'm sorry, but I liked you better then her kids anyway. And yes, I know you watched me walk away that last time I left; I knew I wouldn't be coming back so I hope you found that catnip mouse I left in your secret hiding spot...you deserved 1 last rush in your old age. I'm not sure if you are even still alive as I haven't been by the house since March of 05, but I hope that you are happy, warm and still catching the beam of sunlight in your favorite spot. Anyway, just wanted you to know that you were the only cool cat I've ever known and that I miss you.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Seattle <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-05-17T23:26:11-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/333295779.html To my Ex-GF's Cat text Memo to my fellow bus riders http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/299213729.html Heavy-breathing man sitting next to me: let's make a deal. I won't vomit on you if you won't vomit on me. Please know that I don't say this lightly, as I am pretty sure that your black plastic bag is filled with severed human limbs that are rapidly approaching stage 4 decomposition. Girl reading financial magazine: don't you go disdainfully eyeing my US Weekly like it's child porn. You may choose to fill your bus ride with empirical data and market trends, but I am fully entitled to spend these 20 minutes catching up on the adventures of Brangelina. This is America, bitch. If you don't want to look at Britney's rehab-exiting form on the cover of my magazine, LOOK AWAY. Better yet, find some suitable replacement for those cloglike mules that you're sporting. Yeah, I said it. Man lurking over me with precariously balanced cup of coffee: if you spill that shit on me, I will kill you. Also, it's impolite to stare. If you can't find something to do, act seriously engrossed in the bus schedule like the rest of us do. I promise I won't do anything worth watching, unless the aforementioned spill occurs, in which case all bets are off. Lady at 1st and Broad stop who always asks the driver if this bus is a 2: how can you not notice that it's the same driver every day and he gives you the same answer every day? Must you lurk in the bus doorway, pretending that you might get on the bus despite its non-2 status, only to storm off when you realize that this bus doesn't go to Madrona? GET A SCHEDULE. And stop making us miss the stoplights. I'm late enough as it is. Loud cell phone talker guy: no, but seriously, nobody cares. You are a complete and utter loser, and no amount of talk of "executives" and "meetings" and "protocol" will convince us otherwise. If you were that important, you wouldn't be riding the bus, okay? Also: you are wearing white socks. I have never met anyone important who wears white socks. Go home, change the socks, and stop talking to your mom like you're taking a conference call. It's way too early for me to hate someone as much as I hate you right now. Old lady who wants to chat: I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, since I'm not sure you can even see the little white earphones weaving into my whafro. These little babies mean I don't want to have a heart-to-heart with any of my fellow bus riders. Not even about your gout, your grandchildren, where this bus goes, or my life story. I'll let you in on a little secret - sometimes I don't even have an ipod plugged into these bad boys. That doesn't stop me from shrugging helplessly and pointing to my ears when your kind tries to engage me in conversation. Take the hint, and talk to the weird muttering guy in the corner. He looks up for a little tete-a-tete. Crackhead who just propositioned me: do I look like the kind of girl who sleeps with dudes she meets on the bus? Wait, don't answer that. Just, no. ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL: Tomorrow, I'm bringing a sharpie and adding "please wear deoderant" to the bus rules poster. I just have to figure out the spanish translation first.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-03-23T13:23:00-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/299213729.html Memo to my fellow bus riders text The Perfect Craigslist Girl, Or So I Thought http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/290385287.html I saw her post. The title was eye-catching, I clicked. There were 4 photos, all of them clear, reasonably close-up, and all stunning. Beautiful face, glowing complexion, auburn hair blowing in the wind. Is that a tulip field behind her in that one? Is she on boat in this one? Blue skies, sun shining, her smile wide and bright. The ad was relatively brief yet charming and creatively intuitive. I knew she'd be getting a ton of responses. I wrote her, told the truth about myself, attached a picture and hoped for the best. The next day I get a response, she asks a few questions, I answer, and she writes back with her phone number. That's right, I didn't need to provide proof of birth or a pay stub. I called and she picked up on the first ring. Her voice wasn't high-pitched or deep, it was just normal and a little perky, she rambled on and then I rambled on. I called her again, and then again, our conversations were fluid, no awkward pauses, she was simultaneously available and unavailable. We met at the Matador in Ballard for our first date, her choice. I gave myself plenty of time but there was an accident on 520 and I was 15 minutes late, I showed up frazzled. But instead of being rude, she was understanding and pleasant. Apparently she'd showed up early, put our name down on the list, sat at the bar with a glass of white wine. She was even prettier than her pictures, her face had matured, her hair was looser and wilder. She wore a pale yellow strapless top and dark jeans. The curve of her neck and shoulders and collarbone, her tan skin, I tried not to stare. The hostess took us to our table. The bar was loud so we sat on the same side of the booth. She wasn't nervous at all and her hand was ice cold and smooth. She made me laugh. I was in love with her then, and I knew it, and it was terrifying. I called her the next day, she answered, we made a date. I offered dinner, she suggested the Pink Door. It was Halloween weekend and she wore an outfit that was almost-a-costume. She refused the first table the hostess offered us, requesting one along the banquette. I expected the hostess to refuse, the staff there is infamously snotty, but instead changed direction and took us to the requested table. She seemed to know the staff, the wine-list made sense to her. She over-ordered and ate little. After dinner I walked her to her car, everyone on 1st Ave. looked at her as we walked by. When we got to her car I kissed her. Afterward she smiled and said goodnight. We had another date, and another, and another, it was perfect, we made-out in her cold car, NPR droning in the background. And then another date- she came over to my place and we watched When Harry Met Sally, she said it was the sweetest movie of all time. We didn't really watch much of it, of course. She said "yes" all night long.. "yes" over and over and over again, and "please." She said "yes" and then "please" over and over, and breathed into me. She left the next morning. "Thanks for having me over," she said. It was raining and cold outside, but I was warm and sleepy. I called into work and went back to bed and woke up to her smell on my sheets. It was 5 days before Christmas. I never saw her again. I called, texted, and e-mailed for weeks, long after I should have stopped, but I just couldn't accept it. Then I started to realize that I didn't know her last name, where she worked, or where her apartment was. I had no way to find her. Why hadn't I ever thought to ask? Why hadn't it just come up naturally in conversation? Was it all on purpose?- some sick manipulation? But why?- to what end? I'd become paranoid. Distant. I re-bounded badly, very badly, embarrassingly, over and over again. But it started to get better. A new girl started a few weeks ago on my floor. She smiled at me every time we passed each other. I asked her out, she accepted. There we were, this past Saturday night, in El Camino in Fremont, and I look up, and there she is. She looked fantastic, wearing all black with high boots. She was with some guy, a tall, big guy with blond hair. I put my head down but it was too late, she saw me and came over. She leaned in and kissed me hello, asked me how I've been, complimented (with a totally sincere tone) my date. She suggests some specialty drink, then excuses herself. I couldn't tell my date the truth, of course, so I had no excuse to leave. About 1/2 an hour later she leaves, waving goodbye quietly as she passed through the door. I couldn't help myself- I went home, already drunk and then drank more. I called her around 2AM. She didn't answer.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Kirkland <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-03-08T00:29:15-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/290385287.html The Perfect Craigslist Girl, Or So I Thought text Vasectomy: $400. Speechless look on her face: priceless. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/274495936.html I'll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago: I got a vasectomy. I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company. I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl. We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her - as I was to find out - it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully. Four months into dating, I get the "I'm pregnant" talk. She's going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married "for the baby". She's positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she's gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity. At this point, I'm just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse "oops" on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can't think beyond their own uteri. So I wait a couple of days to "think about all this." I meet her again. I say I don't want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batshit insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it. Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I'm laughing hysterically. It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a "negative test result for sperm" to show I'm sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I'm ready. I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared. She's all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly - or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. "Are you sure that this baby is mine?" Well, she goes batshit insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she's really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she's a slut. I'm just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities... blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not really mad. I'm kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won't shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper. I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately. I tell her simply, "You're screwed". Her look doesn't change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared. I continue. "I am sterile" Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women's logic. "You're full of shit. You're trapped and you know it." I hold up the letter and the test results. "Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine." This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. "Bullshit, those are fakes." I was ready for that. "No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It's a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine." I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It's a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing. I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing. Epilogue - I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women. The Moral of the Story - Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Manhood <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-02-06T14:24:53-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/274495936.html Vasectomy: $400. Speechless look on her face: priceless. text Fellow Costco Shoppers http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/273715530.html The Supers are among us. Saturday in Costco they were apparent everywhere mingling with us ordinary folks. BLINKER BOY – You sat in your powder blue minivan tending your liver spots waiting for someone to move their car out of a prime spot. There wasn’t anyone even walking to a car in that lane, but you know that time and numbers are on your side. You’re also savvy enough to know that if you let another car pass, they may get to a spot first. So you block. And you wait. In the middle. Staking out that lane as yours and creating havoc behind you. Left blinker on if someone walks down the left side of the row, quickly switching to right blinker if they cross. Hazards if they change rows in the middle. I was the guy who lured you to the end of the row by pretending to unlock the silver Acura, only to walk away when you got close. The people you were blocking thanked me. THERMODYNAMICS GIRL. You demonstrate that energy input in the form of food, minus energy expended in the form of exercise yields energy stored in the form of lard. I passed you repeatedly over the hour I was in the store. Certainly you could’ve found SOMETHING to buy after all this time. Then, I see. It’s not a shopping trip, it’s a free lunch. And that’s not a cart. It’s a walker. You heave your enormous, flabby arms and boobs over the edge of the cart and lean on it as you make your glacial progress from free sample to free sample. You use your cart/walker like a bulldozer in your quest to reach the Holy Grail; a Dixie Cup of Rock Star Energy Drink. The lady in the hairnet becomes your own personal drive-thru. I particularly liked how you asked if there were other flavors to try and took one for the road. The BBQ meatballs were a whole two aisles away. ROUNDABOUT MAN. You parked yourself and your cart in the middle of the intersection of two shopping aisles strategically angled so as to occupy as much physical space as possible. While you forced traffic to direct itself in circles around you like a bunch of badly dressed Renaults circling the Arc de Triumph you were licking (tongue hanging out LICKING!) the inside of a spent paper cup full of Chicken Creamy Supreme. The look of confusion you gave when I told you to get the f%$^* out of the way was made funnier by the leftover cream sauce in your scraggly mustache. THE SCREAMING EAGLES. The most lethal bunch in the store, led by a person to whom conscience and self-awareness are weaknesses to be exploited in others. She enters the store like a normal mom with three kids. Once inside, the disguise is removed, goggles flip down and she stares unwaveringly at her attack plan disguised as a shopping list. With trained efficiency, her cadre of small, fast and determined fighter escorts fan out alongside where they make sorties to various end-caps, sample stations and electronics displays. While docked with the mother ship, they effectively block passers and send other shoppers diving down the snack row for safety. They dive in and out of crowds knocking people and products over and come out unscathed, holding bags of Chicken Wings and Jalapeno Poppers. The most promising disciple is named Godzilla, for his ability to scatter Asian women with his stomping, screaming temper tantrums. THE STROLLER Your name is a reference to the speed of your progress which resembles nothing so much as a nice little stroll on a sunny spring day in the garden. Determined to make your fellow shoppers slow down and smell the roses you set the speed limit for whichever aisle you’re in. It’s like following a school bus down a two lane road. I tried a bit of method acting and matched your pace, just to see what goes through the mind of someone so utterly lacking in ambition and purpose. All I could envision is how little I wanted to finish and be forced to go home to the gold and green shag carpeted, wood paneled house that smells like yesterday’s Depends. And my favorite – SUPERBOWL CONSUMER MAN! You were disguised in gray Champion sweats and a football jersey (making a triumphant homecoming to their place of purchase). Your tan Velcro Rockports were the sole give-away to the fact that you haven’t strung together three running steps since Ike died. An off-brand 42 inch flat screen TV was parked on the big flat dolly with no company other than an enormous log of Velveeta cheese-flavored-food-product. You would have blended in nicely if you hadn’t decided to take your entire purchase with you through the line to get a Polish dog and Diet Coke. Or was it a Chicken Bake, you man of mystery you? You were clearly proud of your purchase because you talked about it loudly the entire time. And if we needed a reminder that you’re a big spender, you banged the evidence against our shins and plowed into tables as you strutted through the concession pushing inaccurately with one hand and one elbow while filling your grill with the other.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Kirkland <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-02-05T08:48:18-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/273715530.html Fellow Costco Shoppers text Rant: All men aren't creeps... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/254371842.html I have been approached more times than I can count over the years by men trying to get to know me better. I think that is average for most women in their 20s. I always try to be respectful whether I am attracted to them or not. Believe it or not, women get rejected too and I try to treat folks like I would like to be treated. These are just some questions I would love to have answered. I am sure I will get some shit for writing this. I don't want to be negative; I love men and think for the most part that they are great. I have been approached by nice guys (attractive-to-me and not) in class, at work, at bars, at cafes, at the roller rink, etc and have appreciated the conversation and the stuff that sometimes follows. That being said, please tell me why men think that it is ok to do the following: -Skulk around the bar for hours and stare at me while I am drinking with my friends and only approach me at the VERY end of the night (even though I said hello and smiled a few times) when I am outside of the bar and parting ways with my friends. Either you think I am drunk enough to make you look good or you are waiting until I am alone for some creepy reason...ugh. -Try to kiss a woman's hand the first time you meet her. It is not the Victorian era and it is not the Renaissance Fair. From my understanding it was customary for ladies to wear gloves and for gentlemen to "air kiss", anyway. I don't know you and you don't know where my hand has been. I certainly don't want your lips on me the first minute that we meet. I had to repeatedly tell a 50-something year old guy with scraggly hair and a beret to please not kiss my hand and that a hand shake was enough. I said this politely but he persisted x3. When I said "PLEASE DON'T" in a firm tone to him he called me a "bitch". That was 4 years ago and I still see the guy in my neighborhood and he STILL glares at me. Grow up and get over it grandpa. -Try to dry hump women while they are talking to their friends...I know you are drunk and I am so sorry that your girlfriend broke up with you, but wtf? -invite my friend and I home with you...believe me darling, if we want a threesome with you, WE will come to YOU. We are pretty sure of getting a taker if we are offering that set up. You are just asking for rejection there and will be given no sympathy. -Not take a hint that my friend and I are not up to flirting when she is crying her eyes out after being dumped...especially when we say point-blank "sorry, now is not a good time. Maybe we can hang out next week". -Loudly ask me and my friend (in front of my mom) to smoke weed with you in the back alley when it is pouring rain. You could at least introduce yourself first...sheesh. -cockblocking sucks. Don't do it. If I am speaking intently with a hottie please don't try to sit between us and take over the conversation. -yes I am a busty lady. I am not interested in hearing about how you used to like skinnier gals but you have come to the realization recently that curvy women are sexy, too. Yawn. Or is that your way of letting me know that I am on your hotlist and you find me dateable even though your jockohomo friends might make fun of you. Oh boy! Lucky me! -being rude to my male friends when I bring them in the bar/cafe that where I and you both happen to be regulars. That will not impress me. It was really funny watching this regular get all huffy and competitive with my GAY co-worker who I brought to the cafe. I know we usually exchange pleasantries when we see each other, but I have no commitment to you. If you want to show you care, be nice to my friends -why would a man tell a me that he had painted a portrait of me face and superimposed it on a picture he had previously painted on his ex-girlfriend? I don't want to know that I have a "divine" face that is the muse to your artistic genius. For one thing, I don't event know your last name. Secondly, I am not impressed by the "art in pain" persona. Finally, that conversation was so creepy that I avoided that location for several months. -I'm with the Clinton biography reader who posted. If I am reading a book or doing my coursework, I don't mind a "hello" but being unable to take a hint is just fucking pathetic and unattractive in the extreme. A man who doesn’t catch normal social cues or even worse pushes my boundaries on the first meeting is not going to get too far with me. -If you are an older gentleman, expect to be rejected if you approach a younger woman. I have enjoyed dating older men myself, but most women don't. Sorry but that's the way the cookie crumbles pops. Thanks for letting me rant!   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: seattle <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-12-28T00:27:03-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/254371842.html Rant: All men aren't creeps... text FREE - Boxspring for diabolical revenge plot http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/247317138.html It looks like a normal boxspring, but if you secretly replace your sworn enemy’s queen boxspring with this one, revenge will be assured! The incessant squeaking of this sturdy foundation will torment your hated victim through the night! With every toss and turn, the grating of metal on metal will penetrate the subconscious, conjuring dreams of fingernails on blackboards, trains careening off tracks, dentist drills and other unimaginable horrors! Oh, the sweet revenge you will reap when your mother-in-law/boss/ex-lover enters the light of day with a tortured, haunted visage! No sleep! No happy dreams! Night after sleepless night, your evil plan will mature, slowly driving the hated one insane!!! (insert evil laugh here). (Warning: Not recommended for roommates or others within close proximity to your own sleeping area). HURRY! Just in time for the holidays!   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: Green Lake <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-12-11T09:15:48-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/247317138.html FREE - Boxspring for diabolical revenge plot text The Office Refrigerator http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/240705630.html This is a public service announcement to everyone who uses the refrigerator at the office. I have noticed the following and would like to propose an amicable solution so that we can all go back to pretending to get along with each other. 1. The office refrigerator is not your personal space to store your 20 frozen meals because you're too lazy to bring one from home every day. There's 50 people sharing one fridge, and many of us bring lunch to work and would like a place to put it. Please bring your “Smart Ones” (an oxymoron for you if I have ever heard one), one at a time like the rest of us. 2. There's a machine just down the hall with lots of cold beverages. Please get your bottles of water and pop out of the fridge. If you are wondering why some of them disappear occasionally, now you know. I was thirsty. That goes for you too oversized Brita pitcher lady. 3. Putting your name on things. I'm guessing this came from your college days where your deadbeat roommate would eat anything in the fridge and not pay you for half of it. I don't care how many times you put your name on that sandwich in the fridge. If it's there for more than a week, it's going in the trash. If you are a repeat offender, I might trash it after a day just for the fun of listening to you complain to everyone in the office about how someone keeps stealing your lunch. 4. Speaking of things left for more than a week, there are science experiments going on with certain things in the fridge. A fun experiment would be forcing you to eat whatever is in there. Alas, if you are looking for the person who threw away your prized tupperware, it was me. There's no chance I am cleaning it for you - get your stuff out of the fridge. 5. I know you had a wonderful time in Rome/Greece/Spain/London/Whereveristan, and I know it made you smile sending us that postcard from there while we were stuck here at office, but we don’t need reminder of your wonderful trip on the front of the refrigerator for months after you’re back. I hear they like to say arse over there – that’s where your postcard can go. 6. The front of the fridge is also not a place to post your little funny anecdotes, NY Times articles, Dilbert cartoons and Digg printouts. All it does is clog up the front of the fridge while some schmo is reading when I’m trying to get my lunch out. Send it by email if you have to share, just not to me. 7. I love potlucks as much as the next guy, and for the most part the food is good, except for you people who bring fucking pasta salads. There’s like 5 of them every potluck – how much pasta do you people eat? Newsflash, you have an obesity problem – switch to greens. But anyway, after every potluck the fridge is packed with everyone’s leftovers, and they stay there for weeks. Take your stuff home, especially that hummus, it stinks. 8. We are very fortunate to have a refrigerator with an ice maker here at the office. It would be nice if you didn’t fill up your gargantuan sports flask with ice every morning so the rest of us can have some ice before the afternoon. Also, the ice basket has a scoop right next to it, and it’s there for a reason. Use it. 9. No, the dry creamer for the coffee in the department is not good enough for you. You have to bring in your own milk or that foofy flavored creamer. That smell? It’s your dairy products spoiling. Go to Starbucks downstairs. 10. I know the fridge is packed full of stuff and lunches are everywhere, but if you have to move other people’s lunches in order to get to yours, can you please put it back on the shelf where it was originally? Otherwise, you end up looking endlessly for your lunch like an idiot. On second thought, I’m going out to eat. Right after I throw away everything in the fridge.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: Your Office <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-11-27T13:40:44-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/240705630.html The Office Refrigerator text Life, Circumcision, and the Cannon http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/239478683.html I want to share this story. I can't make this stuff up. One day at work, I was in the hallway talking to a colleague about circumcision. You are familiar with this conversation - the health gains, societal standards, and religious laws associated with being snipped. The conversation was a bit one-sided since neither of us ourselves have an anteater. At the height of the conversation, another coworker, we will call him Jiminy Bonerpants, walked by. Jiminy is a 25 year old, college educated, married engineer from a Middle American state. So as Jiminy passed, we inquired as to the state of his foreskin. Very matter-of-factly, Jiminy replied no, he was not circumcised. Being the first person we had come upon who would admit to having a meat tulip, we were intrigued and my colleague started asking him some questions. These questions were about fundamental mechanics of operating an uncircumcised penis, i.e. sex, hygiene, etc. I am no doctor, but Jiminy's answers did not make any sense. Physiologically, the answers did not add up. Upon further questioning involving some rudimentary diagrams, the following became clear: Jiminy Bonerpants was and is circumcised, but he did not know this. Where he got this idea, i cannot tell you, but somewhere in the last 25 years, Jiminy gained the impression that male circumsion involved removing the entire head from the penis. Logically, since he still retained his helmet, he sincerely believed that he was uncircumcised. We laughed at him, and then showed him some German porn to try to clear up his misconceptions. I struggled with whether or not I should tell anyone at work about this. Surely this would make him a laughing stock and severely damage his reputation. This struggle lasted approximately 10 minutes and within 2 hours, everyone at work was laughing at him. If you draw the emblem of the "cock-and-balls", (if you are a guy you know what i am talking about), and square it off where the head is supposed to be, it looks like a cannon. Over the next month or so, cannons were being drawn up everywhere- on post-it notes and whiteboards, and being etched into tables. This lasted until management caught on and outlawed any graven images of the cannon. This story does not say much for the health education being administered in Middle America. As far as I am concerned, there is a minimum amount of operator knowledge that should be required for ownership of any equipment. If you own a car, you should at the least understand why it needs gas and how to check the oil. If you operate a washing machine, you should understand what most of the noises mean. If you own or ever operate a penis, you understand, at the least, how to put on a condom and what it means to be circumcised. Please pass this on. Knowledge is power.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: Pants <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-11-24T18:53:28-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/239478683.html Life, Circumcision, and the Cannon text RANT: To my new bathroom best buddy: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/238608491.html I apologize if I came across as a bit unnerved or snappy, and that I didn't exchange any social niceties - I didn't even catch your name. I generally make every effort to be sociable and pleasant, and I am embarrassed that in this case, we did not even get to "hello." I have to admit, I was slightly taken aback by your confusion regarding the basic tenets of men's bathroom etiquette. I don't mean to be rude, but urinal time is "me" time - I have a very busy schedule, and I prefer not to share those brief moments with others. I found it unusual, to say the least, that in an empty bathroom with well over ten urinals (with no barriers, mind you), you would choose to engage in your business in the adjacent urinal. I love meeting new people, don't get me wrong, but in an empty restroom early in the morning (pre-coffee), having a swordfight is not high on my list of things to do. I'm kind of flattered that you enjoyed my presence to such an extent that you couldn't help but look over at me (subtlety is not your thing, I'm afraid) and stare, muttering things to yourself that I could not understand. Have you ever seen Ace Ventura: Pet Detective? You should give it a watch sometime. As I washed my hands and departed, our brief engagement coming to a close, I was awed by the sight of your pale buttocks, reflecting the faint glow of the fluorescent bathroom lights about the room like a star, your pants and underwear resting down around your ankles as you relieved yourself - for a moment, I thought I had somehow been relocated to my old elementary school. Much like the serve-and-volley approach to tennis, this was a style I thought had gone the way of the buffalo. How wrong I was. With all that said, my newfound friend, I hope you're having a pleasant day. Next time, though... Maybe you could give me a few urinals' worth of a buffer zone? Wonderful.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: Seattle <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-11-22T11:29:20-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/238608491.html RANT: To my new bathroom best buddy: text THANKS Jennifer.......... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/230341349.html ......For leaving bite marks all over my husbands chest last night. No, really, Thank You! You have no idea what a nightmare you have just saved me and my kids from. To reward you for your services I am offering you my husband for keeps. Should you accept your prize please note the following rules. 1. You are going to have to financially support him. I say this because we have 2 children together (but you knew that) which means that he will have to give up a sizeable chunk of his pay to support them in the manner they deserve. Please keep in mind that since he has kept me a stay at home Mom for the better part of the last 11 years he will also be paying me alimony. So forget about his money honey.....cause it's mine! 2. You will have to provide him with new attire. You see after he stepped from our (now mine) shower this morning dripping wet and naked is when I discovered your little "love bites". It just so happened that at that EXACT moment a giant black hole appeared in my home and devoured almost all of his clothing. Therefore he will come to you almost naked (lucky you). The bright side is that you can dress him any way you want. Go nuts and buy him a leash and some vinyl attire or a cute little dress while your at it. 3. You will have to give him up every other weekend. This time will be set aside for his visits with his children. Since he openly admitted (in front of several people) that you are just "some dumb drunk bitch" that he met at a "tweakers" house you will be banned from these visits for fear of my children’s safety. Just so you know, that is also going to be the reason to have his visits limited (if not supervised). After all WTF was HE doing at a "tweakers" house in the first place? 4. You will not be having a proper sex life. Yes, I know that you didn't fuck him last night. Since his back injury 4 years ago his penis hasn't worked right. Too bad for you because before that it was THE BEST SEX EVER and we fucked all the time! however, now he'll most likely disappoint you with his half hard member that only works with a little blue pill. Please don't let that fool you. The little blue pill means that he comes within 2 minutes....hardly enough time for you and 98% of the time he will just be too embarrassed to even try. Stock up on your batteries and/or multiple sex partners! By the way, No it CANNOT be fixed. It's nerve damage sweetie, deal with it! 5. You will NOT return him to me. I will NOT have him. He fucked up when he touched you! I was a good wife to him and he had a good thing going on here. Don't be surprised if you don't live up to me because you wont and he will make you miserable for it! 6. He will blame you for ALL of this. He told me, with tears in his eyes, that you giggled to him "I hope your wife sees that". I don't know if you said it or not. I don't really care. However, just in case you did, your wish came true. I did see it, and he's pissed. He's so mad that you made that comment that when I punched him in the eye he apologized to me! Yes, I know violence is wrong and to be honest I've never hit anyone before. However, I am not sorry that I did and if I could have that moment back I would have simply aimed lower! 7. This one isn't really a rule, more like a friendly warning. I will make sure to take up as much of his time with the most petty shit I can find to spite you. I will make it my hobby to hurt him and you the same amount my kids are hurting right now. Please be aware that he will take it, he will eat my shit for years with a smile. I was with him for 12 years, I know him better. Yes, I do feel completely justified in my actions. Just in case you were wondering. So Thank you, Jennifer the dumb drunk bitch from the tweakers house who left bite marks on my husband chest last night, for showing me that 11 years and 2 children were no match for you! I applaud you on a man well won. HE'S ALL YOURS YOU FUCKING WHORE!  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Pissed off wife in Port Orchard <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-11-04T20:24:18-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/230341349.html THANKS Jennifer.......... text 10 tangible things each of YOU can do to make traffic better http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/223353880.html Yeah, you could ride transit or carpool or bike, but that's not gonna happen, so here are easy things you can actually do. All of these fit a theme. Which is: It's not all about YOU out there. You are part of a collective. If everyone did these unselfish things, traffic would be much better: 1. Don't tailgate. When you tailgate, you have to tap your brakes at the slightest speed change. You tap for a second, the guy behind you taps for two, the guy behind him for four, and so forth. Ripple effect that equals slowdown. 2. Use onramps correctly. ACCELERATE! Get up to a speed that matches overall traffic, then merge seamlessly. Too many people here merge into 60 mph traffic at 40 mph. People hit their brakes, and again you get a ripple effect. 3. Honor the left lane. Move over when not overtaking cars. Yes, we've talked this one to death. Just do it. 4. Pick a lane and try to stick with it. Incessant lane changes for little real gain can cause slowdowns for much the same reason as the onramp example above. Think ahead: Will the lane you're in peter out soon, or turn into an exit-only lane? Get yourself in one that will see you through to your destination. 5. At stoplights, pay attention. If you're first in line waiting at a light, be sure you're pulled up far enough, as someone here already noted. Then PAY ATTENTION! Watch the light. When it changes, go! Driving is war, and you've got the point -- so stay alert! That goes for everyone in the back of the line too, but we have way too many people at the front who use stoplight time to apply makeup, read the paper, change the radio station or eat french fries off their car's floor. 6. Step on it. If traffic's going 60 in your lane, why aren't you keeping up with the guy ahead of you? Why do you feel the need to go 57? Again, you're part of a collective out there. Join in, please. 7. Don't go so fast you get pulled over. Because every time someone gets pulled over, it gums up traffic for the rest of us. People rubberneck and irrationally brake (like the trooper's gonna drop you to go after them), and the aforementioned ripple effect ensues. So drive briskly, but don't risk a ticket. If you're going over 70 in a 60 mph zone, you're risking it. 8. Look way down the road. I get on I-5 northbound everyday from Fairview at Mercer. Two lanes from Fairview are onramp only. Invariably someone is sitting in the middle, onramp-only lane who wants to go straight. And he just sits there, and people are stuck behind him. It happens at every signal, because the mope didn't READ THE SIGNS. Look ahead. Look far ahead. Look way past that big hurkin' SUV you're behind, if you can. The sooner you see signs and the sooner you see trouble, the sooner you can avoid messing up in a way that affects the rest of us. 9. Live the golden rule. Let people in. Wave when someone lets you in. I wish I had a buck for every time I've signaled to enter a gap in a lane, and the car that's far back in that lane guns it to try to keep me from moving over. No wait, I don't wish I had a buck, I wish I had his head on a pike. But you've gotta check that impulse too. Do unto others ... you know. 10. Devote yourself to the task. This is covered in many of the points above, but driving is not simply something you do to pass the time while listening to the radio. Driving is the all-consuming task at hand. So DO it -- briskly, efficiently and competently. So that we can all get out of each other's way. Thank you.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Stuck on I-5 <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-10-20T11:06:55-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/223353880.html 10 tangible things each of YOU can do to make traffic better text Rant - Muscular Girl FAQs http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/220996944.html I’m not the ranting type and I doubt I have half enough rage to make this a good one. But, I’ve still got to get it out of my system. Okay, here’s the deal: I lift weights. Some people collect stamps, some people play soccer, I lift weights. And, I’ve got a muscular physique as a result. I’m not huge, probably because I'm just not designed to get body-builder big. Here are the answers to the FAQs so you won’t have to wonder about the rest: 1) Yes, I was born a female. Did you just win $5 from a friend who bet you that you weren’t enough of a jerk to ask me that? 2) No, I’m not on steroids. I lift weights and eat right. Look, do a few hours of Madden 2004 and a few bonghits get you a few steps closer to the Madden Bowl? Of course it does. Likewise, what I did with my two hours has made my delts show. By the way, nothing wrong with a nice BH of something decent. I'm into lifting, not nunnery. 3) Yes, I do want attention. Are you kidding? Who doesn’t? But, I’m not some desperate self-esteem case that wants the approval that daddy never gave me. But, just like the girl with the c-cup rack, I like to show off my best assets. Thing is, my best assets are my shoulders and arms and that’s why I have 5 different colors of the same tank top. Yes, I know it’s 48 degrees out tonight but I’m still not wearing a jacket and neither are the other girls waiting in line. 4) No, I will not flex for you. For god’s sake, why would you ask that? Didn’t you realize that you said that loud enough for everyone at the party/in the train/in the next booth over to hear that? Don’t embarrass me. Back to the girl with the c-cup, did you shout for her to flash a bare nipple at you? So, why would you ask me to “flex” for you? Look, I have a decent face, and hard-earned muscle definition. I’m glad you noticed. I’m proud of it and I’m happy to talk your ear off about lifting and creatine and metabolic optimizers if you want. But, just don’t make me feel self-conscious about it. Flatter me and give me just a smidge of an opportunity to show some false humility about it. 5) No, I’m not into girls. Please. Sure, if Jessica Biel wanted me to get boozy with her and then asked me if I ever “feel confused” I’m sure I’d consider a little exploring and spelunking. But, otherwise, guys only. 6) No, I will not “have your back” if you decide to give the evil eye to the chick who took your boyfriend/took your spot at the bar/spilled Corona on your shoe/left pee on the toilet seat just before you went in. I’ve never been in a fight and I don’t even do tae-bo. I know, the guns made you think otherwise. But my combat style would consist of running away and flailing my arms and I’d probably add a urine puddle just for good measure. By the way, don’t point a “that’s my bodyguard” thumb my way across the room and think I didn’t notice. I don’t care if you get your ass kicked, just don’t make me run tonight, I already worked out today. 7) No, I don’t date bodybuilders only. First of all, professional bodybuilders don’t workout at Seattle Fitness. Okay, maybe Golds. I’m not sure where they go but they do it as a full-time job and don’t have much of a life outside liver tablets, distilled water and sleeping 10 hours per day. Will I date a guy who is 50 pounds overweight and a smoker? I dunno. Do I like guys with muscles? Heck yes. Doesn’t your girlfriend? So, don’t ignore me just ‘cause you think I’ll beat you in armwrestling. 8) Yes, I did sweat some of my boobs away but I’m at a B even on a good day. Just remember that boobs are fat and I’ve tried to get rid of most of my fat so that you’ll think I have nice quads. 9) Yes, I attempted to compete in a few bodybuilding competitions and I didn’t even place. I know I look buff when it’s my turn to break at Belltown, but it takes 12 hours per day of commitment to win those things and I have a full-time job that pays better than the gamble of trying to be a full-time bodybuilder. 10) No, for the love of god, do not strip down to your wife-beater at the party and show me your biceps. Not only will I not return the pose, I’ll probably bolt because now you’ve made a scene and made me paranoid that the nice looks I was getting are actually unfriendly check-out-the-freak stares. 11) No, I have not considered professional wrestling. First of all, please see question 6. Second, I’m 5’5,” so even with 3” of heels I don’t make the cut for modeling, wrestling or probably even walking the round number card at a Toughman Contest. 12) No, I’m not protesting too much by going on about my muscles, my guns, etc. Look, just like any girl or guy who likes their body, I don’t mind getting nice attention for mine. I work hard at it and I think I look good. The big boobed girl wants you to look at her chest, the guy with the washboards wants you to “force” him to take off his shirt and I enjoy your admiring glances at my guns. Maybe I’ll cut back on the lifting someday or maybe even squeeze out a few kids and grow an ass. But for now, I’m that chick with the muscles. Please be a cool guy about it. 13) Yes, I saw the episode of Entourage, I don't think she was all that built and I didn’t know who Evander Holyfield was until I saw that episode. 14) No, I don’t like to “take control” in bed, I don’t like it rough and I don’t think it’s physically possible to fuck someone to death. By the way, I heard you say that to you buddies after I walked in. Keep your stupid voice down and get some manners. 15) Did you just touch my arm? Dude, what the hell? You just walk up to random people and squeeze their arm? Did you think that if you grabbed my upper arm as I walked by, I’m going to stop and a spotlight will light me up as I strip into a posing bikini and do a front double-bicep for you? If we’re dating, dancing, having sex, or saving me from a burning building, feel free to touch my biceps all you want. Otherwise, you’re just gropy and I’ll do everything I can to act startled and accidentally spill my drink on you. 16) No, I have not considered being a stunt-woman. Extrapolate from Question 6. 17) Sure, I will come over for a photo session with you. Simply show me your business card that identifies you as a professional photographer with a website that lists the various fitness magazines or commercial products who purchase your photo work. Oh, you usually do artistic photos? Oh, that’s okay, again, just hand me your professionally produced business card that directs me to your website that shows your years of photo work and dedication to the arts. Oh, you just do photography as a hobby? Sure thing, just give me the address and time of night you’d like me to come to your apartment. Should I come alone wearing my bikini and an overcoat? How long should I stay? Do I have to blow you or can I just use my hands? 18) Absolutely, I’ve seen the websites with muscular girls oil wrestling and I’m totally going to sign up for one of those. Yep, you’re right, maybe they’ll pay me even more than $1,000 to have some 40 year old anger-management dropout put her ass in my face. I mean geez, I’m sure my parents, friends, family, present and future employers have never heard of video downloads circulating on the internet so I’m totally into it. 19) Yes, I think I could probably lift you up, and possibly lift you over my head. I get this question from time to time. Where in god’s name did that fantasy come from? 20) Yes, you can ask me how or why I got into lifting. I enjoy talking about it. But, you cannot shout across the room all of your jerk theories about why I lift such as the fact that I’m a tranny/I’m a lesbo/I need a man/I need a woman/I hate men/I hate women/ I grew up angry/I have too much time on my hands so why don’t I iron your clothes and mow the lawn. 21) No, I’m not a specialty fetish prostitute. But, I read the Stripper Rant in the Best Of section, so if you actually show me the $10,000 and you’re not hideous I promise I will actually consider it… for a non-refundable deposit.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-10-15T13:05:23-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/220996944.html Rant - Muscular Girl FAQs text Thank you for some publc sex http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/201339695.html Let me paint the scene for you, CL Readers. Last night, Weds, I took my Grandmother out to dinner in the Pioneer Square area. After dinner, I was to meet with a fellow CLer who was purchasing my DMB tickets at Zeitgeist Coffee on 2nd Ave and Jackson St. - not thinking that the shop would be closed at 8:15 last night. So I'm pulling onto Jackson, looking for a parking spot to hang out in, and I see an older couple - mid-50's I'd say - appearing to be getting into a Subaru wagon parked directly in front of the shop. I slowly drove by across the street, gauging to see if/when they would pull away so I could pull a quick u-turn and score the spot. They didn't go anywhere, and I lost track of if they got in the car. So I park a block away, my Grandma and I get out and hoof it over to the shop. As we pass the Subaru, I notice that there is a lot of gear, luggage, etc piled in the back and in the front seat. I didn't see the couple. As we came even with the back seat windows, I peeked over. To find the woman, straddling the guy, grinding on his crotch in the back seat on the driver's side. And grinding in a very sexy way. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised. It was just after 8:00 pm, plenty of daylight still outside, on a public street that is somewhat trafficked, not to mention pedestrians - plenty of opportunity to be witnessed. So to keep Grandma innocent (I know she isn't, but I can pretend) I move her past the car to the corner. Except I'm sure she saw something as she kept staring over at the car. Now across the street a spot opened up, so I left Grandma on the corner, and hopped on over to my car. I also HAD to see if what I saw is...well, what I saw. This time, I walked out into the street to pass the car. As I passed, I nonchalantly peeked over. To see them swapping around to land in a 69 in the backseat of this Subaru wagon. Still with plenty of light outside. Instead of standing there in the street dumbfounded and getting creamed by a bus (no pun intended), I quickly got to my car, flipped around, parked at the corner across the street, put Grandma in the car so she didn't get cold, and stood outside the car. I now had a perfect view into the driver's side back seat window. And it was getting hot and heavy in the car. I could just make out her blonde curly head, bobbing like those red/white bobbers on your fishing line. And bobbing in a manner that suggested she was very good at what she was doing. VERY good. Every so often, I would see her naked behind rise up just a bit over the window threshold - from what I will leave to your imagination. Then a bus stopped at the stoplight, and when it left I glanced back over to this car. To see her half naked, moving around to ride the guy, naturally getting down low to duck beneath the window. Soon, the car was firmly rocking. And I just don't mean gently, it was definitely moving and almost making the car move itself despite it being parked. I definitely have to give this guy some props; he must have really been given it all he had. But the most amazing thing is that it was all in the back of a Subaru wagon. And these people weren't short! They must have gone at it for a good half hour. And the best part is, NO ONE ELSE NOTICED! There were a number of cars, who got stopped by the light, who NEVER glanced over to catch a peek. Hell, there was even an Escalade full of 20-somethings, that surely would have made a huge scene out of it, who DIDN'T LOOK OVER. Even 3 cop cars, one which was a Police SUV, stop right next to the car - and none of them glanced to their right. There were countless pedestrians who passed on by and who, given the position the couple was in, would have had a glorious view of the act. Not one of them even glanced at the car. Not one. I was alone in my voyeurship. Though I am pretty sure Grandma had a good inkling of what was going on - she kept staring over at the car. Ah well. When my fellow CLer showed up, the couple just got out of the car, her almost naked and getting out to put her clothes on. As I walked over and met with my CL buddy and make our transaction, I could hear the couple exchange small talk - not the kind of small talk you make with a prostitute. Then she put on a bicycle helmet, straightened her clothes, and got on a very nice bike to, I presume, ride home to her husband somewhere. The guy, with a decent set of clothes on, got into his Subaru and drove off to, I presume, HIS wife somewhere. My thinking was that this was an interlude of the secret kind - and wow, am I glad I witnessed it. To that couple, I say Thank You. That might have been one of the sexiest things I have EVER witnessed in my entire life. And to the guy, keep it hangin buddy, keep it hangin - you're the man. I'm in my late 20's and I can't even match the ferocity you displayed in your conquest. Hotels and beds cannot contain the level of fierceness in you. Only Subaru wagons can withstand your prowess. And to the woman, I send out my love - it's rare to find a woman as daring and aggressive as you. Again, only Subaru wagons are powerful enough to contain you.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around 2nd Ave &amp; Jackson <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-31T09:57:47-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/201339695.html Thank you for some publc sex text My hot neighbors - can we please have a menage a trois? w4mw http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/200161165.html OK, so maybe you two don't FEEL hot. You don't act like you think you're all that. You act normal. You take your kids to school, you putter around the garden. You probably cook normal, child-friendly meals and fight over finances. But you are hot. Both of you. I don't recall ever wanting to have sex with any neighbors, ever. And I feel kind of wrong about it, too, seeing as how you are married with kids, and fine and upstanding citizens and all. But you're both freaking CUTE. I like you, husband-man, with your coloring and dimples. And you, wifey, for your attitude, pretty hair, and ample bossoms. I don't know - should I have you over for a glass of wine and then give you a "tour" of my "house"? Would our relationship be forever soured if we all jumped on my queen-sized bed and just started going at it? Should I spend more time standing naked in front of my picture windows? Do you guys even KNOW about craigslist?   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Eastlake <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-28T17:10:33-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/200161165.html My hot neighbors - can we please have a menage a trois? w4mw text I hate you, fully automated bathroom http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/199973342.html Fully automated bathroom, I hate you. I hate all of your advanced features. I hate you so much that I will sometimes hold it in for hours to avoid coming into contact with you. Motion-activated lights, I hate you. I hate your wan, pathetic, green-tinted glow that makes me look like a Russian convict. I hate the way you turn on when I first open the door, and I hate the way you turn off if I sit quietly on the toilet for too long. Auto-flush toilets, I despise you. I hate the way you begin flushing as soon as I stand up. I hate the way you won't let me get in a courtesy flush should I be recovering from a night of Indian food. Most of all, I hate the way you flush so violently that you spray little droplets of water of dubious cleanliness all over the stall, forcing me to press myself against the farthest corner, pants still around my ankles, and you, like a rogue Catholic priest, spray holy sewer water on my freshly painted toenails and lovely new Nordstrom open-toed high heels. Motion-activated sinks, I loathe you. I don't like having to bend over and hold my hands in front of you like I'm making an offering at a Buddhist temple and want to make sure that everyone sees me lighting my incense. I hate how half of you are malfunctioning most of the time. I hate how it takes 30 seconds to get the water warm enough to really get your hands clean. I hate your stupid accompanying automated soap dispenser. I am not so fucking lazy that I can't turn a faucet on and off all by myself. God, I hate you. Last, but not least, automated air freshener, I really don't like you. I don't mind the scent you dispense, and your timing is decent (usually around the time that I would, if possible, issue a courtesy flush, were I not using the stupid auto-flush toilets), but your location (on the shelf right as you enter the door) scares me - I'm never sure if you are going to aim some mountain fresh scent right at my navel as I pass by you. The sound that you make when dispensing said scent sounds EXACTLY like the door opening onto an angry, hissing cat - why do you have to do that? Can't you just leak the scent quietly? It startles me in the middle of my daydreaming, and I need those few minutes of respite so that I can be mentally prepared to fling myself away from the toilet and avoid the deluge while waving my arms around to turn the lights back on while activating the sink. I hate all parts of you, bathroom. I hate you so much.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Renton <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-28T10:46:18-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/199973342.html I hate you, fully automated bathroom text Goodbye, Sweetie http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/197302853.html You came to me as a tiny baby, staggering up to me one night shortly after my husband died. I'd walked out onto the porch to watch a lightning storm and heard the little squeaky sounds before I saw you struggling up the steps, soaked and desperate for warmth and food. I had no idea where your mother could be. You were barely weaned. I don't know if that early separation was why you stayed so small all your life, barely seven pounds even in adulthood. I took you inside and dried you off and fed you with an eyedropper, and you curled up in my lap for the evening, something you would do every evening for ten years. It was our ritual, our evening time together. You were a quiet little thing, never making yourself obnoxious, always polite. You seemed to enjoy silence as much as I did; when I talked to you too much, you got up and left. It was just one of your little quirks that amused me. Another one was the way you ate the food in your dish, starting at one side and working your way over to the other side in a precise, straight line. I liked it that when we played, you kept your claws and teeth to yourself, pawing and licking but never biting or scratching. You were more like a little dog than a cat in some of your behaviors. You kept yourself clean and never smelled bad, in fact your fur always had a very faint fragrance like jasmine, something I never figured out, but liked very much. Another thing I never figured out was that whenever anyone stopped by, you disappeared. My friends used to tease me, saying I didn't really have a cat. You never allowed anyone but me to touch you, that I knew of, although there was that one exception, the gentle woman who came to the door for help when she had pulled over with a flat tire out on the road. You wound around her ankles while I stood there watching in disbelief. You begged her to pick you up, and snuggled into her arms. I will admit a bit of jealousy, and the only explanation came when she mentioned to me while we waited for the triple-A truck, that she was a Buddhist. You could have left anytime. I never made any rules, never had to, never tried to own you. You stayed anyway, and I was glad to have a cat that didn't jump up onto the countertops and tables. I discovered after a while that this was because you were afraid of heights and if placed on a surface above my thigh level, you cried in fear and wouldn't jump down. I knew my kitchen surfaces wouldn't be tracked on, and that was wonderful. You went outdoors to do your business, rain or shine, so I never had to have a kitty box in the house. Yet, you never brought fleas in, something I watched for since I'm hyper-vigilant for them, because they bite me so badly. You didn't shed much, either. You were so pretty with your warm caramel fur and pale blue eyes. I never got tired of looking at you, your delicate, triangular head, small-boned limbs, your perfect, tiny paws. So you were my magical little cat, a miracle, really. With hubby gone and kids grown and living in other states and my friends turning into little old ladies with their endless recitation of ills and surgeries and feuds, you were my quiet place. I found the hard mass on your underside one evening when you came to lay on my lap and couldn't quite make the jump up onto the couch. I could tell you weren't feeling good, but you'd been so quiet and polite about it that it took a while for me to notice. I'm sorry I didn't have a way to save you. I coudn't afford the outrageous fee the vet wanted for removing the tumor next to your stomach. I had to let you go, and now I miss you so much, especially in the evenings. My lap feels very empty, and though I like silence, I miss that rumbly little purr you used to produce before going to sleep. Everything changes, everything passes away, we all do. You came up my front steps at the perfect moment, and you saw me through a difficult time, little kitty, and I thank you. Goodbye, sweetie.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-22T07:37:17-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/197302853.html Goodbye, Sweetie text My ghost is such a joke! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/194998669.html I just moved into this one bedroom apartment for the incredible low price of $450 a month! I mean, it's on the third level, which sucks. It's worth it, though. When the landlord gave me a tour he told me something along the lines of "I need to be upfront with you. The reason why the rent is so cheap is because past tenants have complained that the apartment is haunted. Before you sign the lease consider this. I'm tired of my tenants breaking their lease because they hear a couple of noises." Whatever. As long as I can eat Cheetos in the nude while watching reruns of Seinfeld, I'm happy. So, my first night I was sleeping, dreaming of blow jobs or something, and then I woke up to some noise. I sat up to see the pages of my Guiness Book of World Records rustling and turning. No shit. Yeah, right, like THAT'S scary! Hahahahh. Puh-lease ! I laid back down and went to sleep. I mean, if Peter (I decided to name him Peter.) wanted to know the size of the biggest loogie in the world, that's his business. Personally, if I was a ghost I'd whisper menacing things to my ex girlfriend like: "I willll kiiiiilll youuu, cheating biiiiitch," or "Keeeeeellllyyyyyy. .. Keeeellyyyyy", or "Youuuu haaaave heeerpeees." Whatever. Seriously, my ghost is a joke. He gurgles. What the fuck? Have you ever heard of a ghost gurgling before? I'm in the kitchen, trying to melt the plastic handle of my spatula on the stove, when I hear this annoying as fuck gurgling sound behind me. Wilson is not scary, he's annoying. (At this point I found it appropriate to rename him Wilson.) Wilson sucks, but he does one cool thing. Every once in a while I'll catch a glimpse of this transparent, gruesome, bloody dude hanging from a noose in my bedroom. I know this is Wilson, which I renamed Tiberius, because he gurgles. Yeah, he looks cool, but it sucks when I'm trying to have sex or masturbate. Tiberius is kind of a turn off, you know.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-16T13:30:44-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/194998669.html My ghost is such a joke! text In the tree outside your apartment - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/184277320.html I was the guy in the tree outside your apartment last night around 1:30 AM. I knew you would be coming back from the pub, as I saw you go out with your friends. I just wanted to see you again, but closer and more personal than my binoculars will let me. You are absolutely stunning and seem like a wonderful person. Oh, don't let anyone tell you different, picking up your underwear with your toes and putting them in your hamper IS a skill. And I think it is cowgirl cute the way you wave your bra around like a lasso when you dance. I am sorry I couldn't stay longer, but there was that moment, it was ever so brief, when our eyes met, it means so much to me and I hope it does for you too. But it was the combination of your high pitched scream of joy and the siren about 5 minutes later that made me leave. I thought the siren was from a fire truck and I would hate to be stuck in a tree that gets caught on fire. Now it seems that your blinds are always closed, what happened? Are you sad and just need some darkness in your apartment? Why not let the stars shine in, I sure would like to see you again. Kisses  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-20T12:56:08-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/184277320.html In the tree outside your apartment - m4w text Free fucking couch http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/181143410.html So, I walked out of my front door this evening at around midnight to find that a couch had materialized in front of my house. The couch is not mine. It's a black couch (I think -- hard to tell, as it's dark), and looks a little worn, but didn't smell of anything and seemed clean. It had a sign on it that said "free." But this is not my fucking couch. I've never seen it before and I have no idea to whom it belongs. I live in a house that has a basement apartment that is currently being inhabited by two rather obnoxious girls (they speak very loudly at night under my bedroom, they play bad music loudly, they're ALWAYS using the washer and dryer and they don't seem to understand that the recycling bin that says "GLASS" is meant for, well, GLASS (they put whatever they feel like putting into it)), and given that their general mode of conducting themselves seems to suggest that they put little thought into things (I came home one day to find that they'd massacred several ferns in our back yard by trimming them into -- I shit you not -- cubes), I would not at all be surprised if, rather than, you know, taking it to the dump or giving it to a friend, they just dragged it out to the front lawn so that they'd no longer have to deal with it. Assholes. Of course, now *I* have to deal with it, because it makes ME look like I'm a fucking college student and/or that I'm too lazy to get rid of my couch in a civilized fashion. This has me pissed beyond words. Sure, we may not have the most impressive lawn on the block (hell, we rent the house -- we're not about to install a sprinkler system), but at least it didn't used to have fucking furniture on it, like some dump on Greek Row. I checked CL before posting this, and (to my complete lack of surprise), there is no post advertising a free couch. So whoever put this stupid fucking couch in my front yard is hoping that somebody will just *happen* to drive by with a pick-up and a hankering for skeezy, used furniture. This is a very unlikely scenario as we do not live on a main street. In fact, we live ONE STREET AWAY from a main street. Thus, most people who drive on our street are people WHO LIVE ON OUR STREET or the goddamned mailman. If you're just passing through the neighborhood, chances are you're going to be driving on Greenwood and not our street, thus GREATLY lowering the chances of somebody seeing the couch, wanting the couch and having a vehicle that is able to take the couch. Whoever has done this is clearly A GODDAMNED DOUCHEBAG, as this is going to condemn this poor couch to remain in front of my house in perpetuum, and I'd really like to have my house look somewhat respectable. So, pretty fucking please, do me a favor and get rid of this eyesore. I don't care what you do with it. Need a place to store a dead body? I'm sure you could hollow out part of the couch. Need something with which to test your new trebuchet? Couches are quite aerodynamic. Need one more piece of furniture on which you can collapse after all of your frat brothers have finished drunkenly sodomizing you? It looks comfy enough for stomach sleeping. Hell, you hungry? You could probably eat the fucking thing. I honestly don't care what you do with it. If you want a free black couch, it's totally yours. Just drive down Phinney Ave. between 68th and 70th streets and look for THE UGLY FUCKING BLACK COUCH WITH THE "FREE" SIGN ON IT and take it away. Please. Pretty please.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Phinney Ridge <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-12T08:43:28-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/181143410.html Free fucking couch text Your Dad doesn't want to see your butt crack...GIRLS!!!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/180173213.html Ok, so most every female under 30 is wearing low rise pants. Our 19 year old says she heard it hurts to wear them any higher & our 25 year old wears them post-pregnancy with baby fat and all hanging over. What a laugh! What's worse is that neither of them wear underwear either. How do we know? Because every time they come over they manage to have to bend over for some reason. Here's the deal girls: I get it, you want to be in fashion, but let's show some taste. We've mentioned it, but aparently you don't get it. We tried buying you underwear as gifts...the really good, pretty and expensive kind...in hopes that you'll wear something...anything. YOU DAD doesn't want to see it! Yes, he helped create it but trust me, this is not one of his projects he likes showing to everyone. He's deeply bothered that every time you bend over in our home he has to witness what our generation refers to as "plummer's crack". It's not something he talks about with me because he already knows how I feel about appropriate dress and he fully defends your right to wear what every you want to, but THIS truly bothers him. I overheard him talking with a friend this afternoon about a girl that was sitting in front of the friend at a movie. When she stood up her low risers became no-risers and she unintentionally mooned everyone behind her. He was laughing about how stupid some people can be just for the sake of fashion. Your Dad, shaking his head, admitted that both his girls wear it too and neither one probably should be, figure-wise, but for some reason they think they look better if they do & added that he's not looking at their asses, it's just hard to miss when they do it right in front of you. It also concerns him who else is staring at your butt crack. He's your Dad, he worries!!! So, I'm here to tell you all that if you're not a tiny size and work out alot to maintain tone, then you're probably not a candidate for those low-rise pants, especially when paired with midriff showing tops. It's just not pleasant for the rest of us. Sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news. While I'm at it, Boys, pull your damn pants up! It's one thing to show off your boxes, it's quite another to wear them below your butt line!! And when you have to walk with your hand holding the waistband up at your croch level...THEY'RE TOO BIG!  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Hopefully everywhere <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-09T18:58:54-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/180173213.html Your Dad doesn't want to see your butt crack...GIRLS!!!! text Baby, will you kill my spiders? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/179004043.html So last night there was a spider the size of Texas RIGHT above my BED. I tried to kill it (normally I'm not the killing type, but this fucker was hairy, big, and damn creepy and near my BED for chrissakes) and it escaped. I tried again and I lost track of the fucker, which means it was SOMEWHERE UNIDENTIFIABLE but extremely close to my PILLOW where i put my FACE at night. I freaked, freaked, freaked out. I hate to be that big of a wuss, but i really just don't handle spiders well. at. all. I looked all over for it, under my bed, in the sheets, yada yada, couldn't find it anywhere. And so my night of peaceful slumber was totally shot by an eight-legged enemy. So, restlessly fidgeting and tossing and turning and freaking out every time I felt the slightest movement which inevitably turned out to be only in my head or maybe my own leg twitching in anxiety or something, I started thinking (after shaking out my sheets three times and re-making my bed so my head was at the foot of the bed so at least now the spider would be biting my feet in my sleep rather than my face) and I got to pondering how nice it would be to have a boyfriend to come kill the spider for me, or whose bed I could go crawl into and be assured of an arachnid-free night of sleep and then some. Because the last guy I dated, well, he was pretty cool and all, and he probably woulda killed that spider like ten fold if I'd asked him to - but probably only if he were already over at my place when I found it, or alternately if the spider was at his place. He wasn't really the type to come all the way over just to kill it for me in a ridiculously overblown act of Discovery-Channel chivalry. And that's kinda what I would have needed to get a good night's sleep after such a trauma. And sure, he woulda let me just come crash at his place no problem, but he had this dog... and while I totally loved the dog and thought the world of her, she did have this occasional flea problem, as dogs are prone to having, so shacking up at his place for the night meant getting bitten all over by fleas. Which is only marginally better than sleeping with spiders, ya know? So now, in my sleep-deprived state the next day, I've resolved to look for that great boyfriend-material guy who, even though he's probably totally just as wigged out by creepy crawlies as me, will pretend to be all macho and come fucking kill them violently for me, at my place if need be, despite the inconvenience of having to leave home at 11 pm on a weeknight, just to put my mind at ease, because that's just how great of a guy he is - or alternately, who will at least lie convincingly to me if he missed and let the spider get away like I did, and convince me he killed it and all, so it'll put my mind at ease so I can get some fucking rest already, and who'd maybe stay the night anyway just to make sure I really am okay from that trauma, because I had nightmares about spiders ALL NIGHT LONG and I'd rather have a nice comfy spider-slayer to snuggle up to all night long, ya know? And don't get me wrong, it's cool if you have pets, you just sometimes have to do those flea-bath things if you want me to stay over at your place. Don't worry, I have bathed dogs before and survived, so I'll help you. In exchange for you killing my spiders. So if you think this could work out, drop me a line. And please if anyone sends me pictures of spiders, dead or alive, so help me god i will track you down by your IP address and release mexican tarantula eggs on your doorstep because that is NOT COOL dude, i had enough of a scare already. And in case you think that's an empty threat, I could totally get mexican tarantula eggs or something equally scary and vengeful on e-bay or something. I fucking love the internet. so don't mess with me, man. Anyway. Wow. hope that last part didn't deter any really cool guys. Ah well, that's the price i have to pay for a clean inbox i guess. oh yeah, speaking of, no cock pics, that's just dumb. You have to kill at least three spiders before we get it on so just take it easy buster. Oh yeah and if anyone brings a spider to kill on the first date you are so never getting any. Just want to be really clear on that. And if you ever, ever take me to a restaurant that's all "exotic" and whatnot and try to get me to eat anything with more than four legs (seafood notwithstanding) we are breaking up. Just for the record.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around no, I'm not kidding <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-06T10:25:25-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/179004043.html Baby, will you kill my spiders? text To the person/slut who disposed of their DILDO in my yard: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/175457730.html I awoke this fine morning hoping to retrieve the Sunday paper from the lawn without incident, pretty standard. How shocked was I to encounter a DILDO on my lawn? It was flesh-tone… you know a waxy, crayon-ish, unrealistic shade of flesh and it wasn’t really smooth. There were bits of grass stuck to it and some small black bugs had claimed it as their own flesh-tone yard log. NOW, I am all about people having a good time whether it is with other people or by themselves BUT since when did a DILDO become a one-time-use disposable item? Plausible and not so plausible reasons why a DILDO may have turned up in my yard: 1. It was made out of biodegradable material - so really, any yard would serve as a perfectly acceptable place to dispose of your DILDO. Dispose is such an ugly word shall we use the phrase, return to the Earth, instead? 2. My yard looked too barren - so instead of placing a creepy gnome or obnoxious pink flamingo on the lawn to liven things up a bit you decided that a flesh-tone DILDO was the perfect choice to add just the right amount of spice. 3. This was a hint – so I’m a single chick living alone on the Eastside (truly this is a curse) who is not getting a lot of action. Could you be a little more subtle, please? A DILDO on the lawn is like someone walking around with a T-shirt on that reads, Bush is a fucking moron…not too much to read into or figure out there! Jeeeeeeeeez! ***Side Note: No amount of cleaning, not even a run through the dishwasher on SANATIZE, would ever be enough to entice me into riding this pre-owned, mysterious lawn dong 4. It fell out – so you were walking across my lawn for some inexplicable reason last night and your portable, 9 inches (guesstimate) of love fell out of you and you didn’t notice. OR maybe you did notice and just thought…ewwww icky grass and bugs, let’s just leave it here. I’ll buy a new DILDO with my daddy’s credit card tomorrow. 5. Someone was practicing – so some big event or competition is coming up. Here is a list of the possibilities as I see them: a. The Lorena Bobbitt Cock Tossing Competition b. The rollout of the new board game: Hustler’s Scavenger Hunt c. The 16th Annual Wear Your Cock on the Walk fundraiser for ED. d. Naughty Lawn Darts on the Eastside – BYOD – bring your own dart. 6. New Candid Camera Show to Air – so this was all caught on tape and you may soon be viewing it in your living room. I’ll be the one with sever bed head wearing the purple, shorty pajamas and a WTF expression. I just know the garbage man is gonna think it’s mine! Thanks DILDO slut!   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-25T21:48:19-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/175457730.html To the person/slut who disposed of their DILDO in my yard: text Thank you, vagrants, for the self-esteem boost. - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/174793748.html I work in Downtown Seattle. There is no parking. So I take the bus. Or I walk. In the course of my daily commute, I run across you, my beloved bum, over and over again. You never fail to tell me something that makes my little heart go pitty pat. You invite me to lounge with you in your classy cardboard digs and enjoy a shared bottle of malt liquor. You tell me I look bangin’ in that skirt. You make sure that I know that I need have no fear for You, unwashed and homeless, find me attractive. I gaze at you longingly from the bus stop bench. I must have been gazing longingly, since you took it upon yourself to plonk down next to me and ramble for ten minutes with your stink breath about how you need five dollars that you might buy your girlfriend a sandwich for her 32nd birthday. You’re 71. You tell me she may be a little too old for you, as you eye my breasts. I go through the day short of breath, touched and flutterpated that you, you handsome toothless hunk of man meat, find me attractive. In fact, I think you would even have sex with me if I asked nicely. Please. Please, continue to compliment me on my anatomy. It makes me feel so good about myself. How else would I know that my “booty so tight” without you to tell me? How would I get through life without being reassured that you are free to a good home? How will I survive without waking up to your booze and vomit breath for every day of my life? What? No. Sorry. I don’t have a quarter.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Capitol Hill <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-23T16:56:25-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/174793748.html Thank you, vagrants, for the self-esteem boost. - w4m text Free piano for catapult artisan http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/173354894.html If your son or daughter has been begging for an in-home piano so as to avoid the tiny, funky-smelling practice rooms at school, this is not your piano. If you cherish Glen Gould's fingers on a Steinway grand, this is definitely not your piano. But if you don't care about technicalities like, say, notes being in tune or fully functioning black and white keys, I have your instrument. This small-scale upright piano is about four feet long and two feet deep, and is painted fire-engine red. Rumor has it that this piano was originally installed in Tacoma's historic Pantages Theater, but whether you buy that depends on your willingness to believe that the mark "Dittman" was ever an illustrious movie house piano. It's in decent physical shape, but there is a burn mark on the top surface, most likely from where its previous owner left an opium pipe. No, it doesn't sound good playing Fur Elise or the Moonlight Sonata. But it's extremely heavy, and I bet it'll make a wonderful thunk/plong/crash noise when it lands. Or perhaps with some love and care, you can restore it and I'll see you pounding away on it as frontperson for the next big Seattle band. I'm pulling for you. Really. I love this piano, but sadly, I'm moving to a 2nd floor apartment with no elevator. If I want to get it inside, it will need to be crane and pulleyed up through the window. I have seen too many cartoons to think this is a good idea. You must be able to come pick it up on Queen Anne by Friday, June 23. Also, you must bring some strong folks to help you load it into your catapult. You must aim the catapult away from my apartment as I am hoping to get my deposit back. Email me and we'll talk details. First come, first serve.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Queen Anne <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-19T20:35:08-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/173354894.html Free piano for catapult artisan text Rant: My giant dick http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/172601243.html Where to begin? I hate my giant dick. I haven't always hated it, mind you, just for the last, oh, 17 years or so. I loved my dick when I was 13 and had a nice 7 inch tool. I'd put it through its paces regularly and just couldn't wait to share it with some of my female classmates. At 14 I was starting to get just a little concerned as I then had a 9 inch member. It was great, but I was hoping for no further growth. No such luck. By the time I was 16 or 17, the growth finally ended. Unfortunately, not before I had reached my freakish proportions. It's 12 inches long. It's about as big around as one of those tall cans of Coors Light (horrible beer, by the way). It doesn’t help that I’m a shower, not a grower. When flaccid it’s still 9 inches. In high school I picked up nicknames like cackyderm (creative), kickstand, and “the plunger.” I was smart, funny, athletic, and well liked, though, so the kidding was not mean spirited. I know that some awkward big dicked guys must go through much worse in high school. Now, I’m sure some guys are thinking that this doesn’t sound like a problem and they wouldn’t mind swinging a stick like this around. Trust me, it sucks. To understand what it’s like to live with a giant dick you have to throw out everything you know about normal life. I love sports and athletic activities. Unfortunately, my dick loves this too and celebrates by flopping around like a frog on a frying pan. An extra large heavy-duty athletic supporter is an absolute must. Go without, and I could end up with a black eye. Of course, by the time I get everything stuffed into the supporter I look like I’ve crammed a grapefruit down my shorts in case I need a snack at half time. If the supporter fails, my dick will fly out of there like the spring snakes in one of those novelty cans of mixed nuts. I hope there aren’t any kids watching the game. I really enjoy swimming, but water + swim trunks = cling = gasps. My next house will have a pool and a tall fence. How about non-athletic activities like, say, walking down the street? First off, boxers are out. No one wants to see that coming toward them. Even briefs only do a marginal job of keeping everything from swinging around. All new clothes must be tried on to see if they pass my dick visibility test (DVT). Jeans fail. Many slacks fail. Most shorts fail. Need to sit on the toilet? Hold on to snakey or he’s going swimming. Fine, but it’s gotta rock in the sack, right? Wrong. Don’t get me wrong, it gets hard as a rock and stays that way, but finding someone able to work with it has been difficult. I’m a nice, attractive, and successful guy so I have met a lot of women who wanted to get down with me. That is, until they see my dick. My first time was when I was 18 with a friend’s older sister (23). The look on her face when she saw it erect was one of surprise, incredulity, and fear. To her credit, she was willing to give it a go, but it would only go so far. Guys, you know how great it feels to pound away “balls deep”? I don’t. I have yet to find a woman who can take it all. A lot of women have simply said, “Forget it” once they see it. Last month I met a really nice woman who followed me back to my place from a Belltown bar. We got close and it was getting hot until ol’ dicky came out. The look on her face was one of actual horror (you know, eyes bulged, hand over a gaping mouth). Without saying a word, she bolted up, grabbed her clothes, and was out the door. You’d think it had five dragon heads at the end (it doesn’t, by the way). How about a nice blowjob? Maybe if there were a bunch of female versions of Steve Tyler out there I’d actually be able to get one. That leaves few options. I’ve gotten very good at going down and handjobs are about all that works with most ladies. Given the crap shoot of reactions from new partners, masturbation has been my best option overall. I know things could be worse. I’m 6’2” and 220 pounds, so at least it doesn’t look like an actual third leg like it would if I were 5’1”. It’s also not bent, doesn’t just get to half mast, or have any of the other physical problems a dick can have. But it’s a damn hassle every day. I’d give my left nut to give up 4 inches and some girth. To those guys who wish they had a massive dick instead of their average or below average one, I say enjoy what you have. Things could be worse: your wish could come true.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around My pants <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-17T13:18:29-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/172601243.html Rant: My giant dick text Things I have learned from Craigslist: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/171301304.html From the Wanted Section: Holy crap a lot of people want expensive stuff for free. I’d think $10-$20 items would be the most people would muster the gall to ask for. But no, some people go all the way to “a reliable economical car or truck”. From the Free Section: Apparently there are a lot of people who either don’t have access to a pickup, or know where the dump is. From Barter: Quite often even more unrealistic than the people who want a free car. From w4m: The minimum accepted male height for online dating is 5’9”. Women think that if they say they don’t like liars, or guys who play games, or married guys, that this will deter those types from replying. It’s like my friends who believe you can’t be busted by an undercover cop if you have first asked them if he or she is a cop. From r&r: The word ‘loser’ is much more difficult to spell than you’d think. An effective rebuttal to any argument is to avoid the content of the argument and attack what you assume to be the character of the poster. Most often the attack word is ‘libtard’. Another effective rebuttal is also to ignore the content of the argument and post a series of pictures that you think are clever and contain the letters STFU. A third effective rebuttal is once again to ignore content, yet this time, pick apart the spelling, often using incorrect grammar and/or spelling. From mc: There are more chickens in the world then I previously thought. Seriously, if you know where the person works or lives, go freakin’ ask them out. They will never see your post. But that’s really what you are hoping aren’t you? At least with your mc you can delude yourself into thinking you tried.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-13T19:48:05-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/171301304.html Things I have learned from Craigslist: text Crap-stravaganza (score up to 7 free craps!) http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/154004569.html Come and get it: 3636 Evanston Ave N I'm moving next week and have managed to alienate every one of my truck owning friends except for one kind soul with a crappy toyota four-runner on it's last legs. For fear of crushing his vehicle with the weight of my accumulated crap (of questionable monetary value) I've decided the best course of action would be to give it all away. The crap will be listed by order of crapiness from the least to the most crappy. If there is any man/woman with the fortitude, will, and tenacity to take all 7 craps I will throw in $10 to cover the skyrocketing price of gasoline in our fair city. Now without further ado let me introduce the craps: <strike> Crap #1 - GONE crap-index: 0 craps (this is not crap) This fine dresser was inherited by me when an old roommate moved out and graciously left this behind. I've been told it was built by her step-father who is quite handy with tools and wood. This dresser is very well constructed, all the drawers work smoothly, but has minor cosmetic damage (a few dings and such). This has been used exclusively to hold clothing, it has never held: meat or meat byproducts, guns or ammunition, dangerous chemicals, fireworks (illegal or otherwise), animals, shoes, alcohol, or legal documents, although those are all legitamate uses once this baby is yours. </strike> Crap #2 - Computer Monitor, Working Crap-index: 1.5 craps (because who uses crt's anymore?) <img src="http://static.flickr.com/50/134017428_f7f90c8241.jpg"> Once again a roommate has left me with a crap to take care of. This is a fully functioning monitor, it's about the size of the one I'm using right now, and would be excellent for viewing movies you have downloaded illegally. This was a roommates monitor so I cannot verify the amount of porn this monitor may have been used to view, but he did spend a lot of time in his room, and wasn't very popular with the ladies. He purchased this crap used 3 months ago. Crap #3 - Metal Futon Frame w/ all the hardware (size: full) Crap-index: 2 craps <img src="http://static.flickr.com/56/134017369_07f427dcbb.jpg"> I'm sorry to say I slept on this bad-boy with a regular type matress on it for more than 3 years. It has never spent more than 2 minutes in the "couch" position. Sturdy metal construction, it makes a slight squeaking noise if you do any agressive bed making or other such things. This is the frame only, it does not have a matress of any kind. If you are over 25 years old and you are planning on using this as your main bed I can not in good conscience give you this crap. Crap #4 - Shelf Thingy (other crap not included) Crap-index: 3 craps <img src="http://static.flickr.com/56/134017411_7a06e3f65a.jpg"> I believe this was part of a desk that is no longer with us. Left by the previous tennants, I've been using this to pile my crap on and it works quite superb for that purpose. There is a 2 inch round piece torn on one of the sides that looks a little crappy so this wouldn't be the best thing to display your good china, but if you are looking for a place to store some paint buckets or books or other various crap this would probably work well. If you paint it, it would be as good as new, with the bonus of the intoxicating paint fumes!! Crap #5 Kitchen Table and 4 Chairs Crap-index: 3 craps <img src="http://static.flickr.com/56/134041129_7c55450f45.jpg"> your standard table and chairs setup. These are flimsy as crap, but the table does table-like things very well and the chairs have yet to break completely, but have a few holes in the fabric and cracks on the legs. I'm sure at one point this table had at least 75 pounds of mail sitting on it with no problems. This is where we really start to get into the heart of the crap. I'm unsure of it's dining potential as no one I know has ever actually eatten at this table. Crap #6 Couch crap-index: 3.5 craps <img src="http://static.flickr.com/52/134017396_ee1267e6fd.jpg"> Here's the scenerio, you're just out of college, you're moving out of your place and you don't know how to get rid of the crapy furniture you have accumulated the past 4 years of your life, what do you do? Leave it for the guy who's moving in after you silly! That's right this fantastic couch was graciously left for me by the last tenants of this place and now is lookng for a new home. It looks crap, but is very comfy, has normal couch wear and tear, no big stains that I can think of and it comes with the original matching pillows. This couch may or may not have been infused with magical powers by D&D playing college students. Crap #7 My Desk crap-index: 4 craps <img src="http://static.flickr.com/44/134017451_550c8c4867.jpg"> I would have cleaned this off for the picture, but I had to use that box of wires in the upper right to make this post. I'm not here to debate whether or not I'm a slob, I already know that, I'm here to get you some fine crap. This is a pretty sturdy desk I have been using for I don't know how long now. The drawers have long since disintegrated, but I find the hole were they used to be makes a nice place to put my speakers. the keyboard slide thing still works and the side legs are made of some sort of non-precious metal. If you don't like being awesome, this crap is not for you. TERMS FOR THE CRAP: -crap is avaliable begining monday evening -e-mail me if you want the crap -if you want the crap you have to come get the crap -no giving me back the crap (I don't want this crap) -I'll help you lift and carry the crap -don't give me any crap about the crap (it's free crap) -this crap comes as is with no warranties -always accept crap responsibly Car Salesman Pitch: What's it gonna take to get you into this crap today? Guy called me up not 20 minutes ago asking about this crap. He asked me to hold it for him. In fact he's on his way down here right now to pick this crap up. But I like you, you seem like a smart, honest person and I think it would be a shame to let you walk out of here without this crap. Why don't we mosey on over to the office, crunch a few numbers and, heck, you could leave here today with 7 new craps. Imagine the feeling when you take this new crap home, the freedom, the wind in your hair, your increased self-confidence, with you and this crap the sky's the limit.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around fremont <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-04-24T02:02:12-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/154004569.html Crap-stravaganza (score up to 7 free craps!) text How did you DO that? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/151513746.html You’ll never read this, little girl, but… I grew up an only child. I had friends, but sometimes they weren’t around. I had both parents and we went places and played often. But I enjoyed listening to my radio and coloring in my Spiderman coloring book in my room as much as I enjoyed playing with my friends or parents. I learned early on how to enjoy myself when I was alone. Not that way you sick monkey...well, at least, not yet. It also meant that when someone left, it wasn’t a huge loss. A friend would move away, I would miss them, but it wasn’t devastating. An uncle would die, I would be sad, but it didn’t bring the world to a screeching halt. As I grew into adulthood I began to treasure my time alone. Again, I had friends and we would go out and drink, hit on women way out of our league, and laugh about it later, but I enjoyed reading in my apartment listening to music alone as much as I enjoyed going out. Girlfriends came and went until I met your mother. She had the most beautiful legs I’d ever seen. We met at work and dated secretly for six months before we didn’t feel like hiding it anymore. We got married four years later. Then you came along a couple of years after that. There has never been anybody in my life that I couldn’t live without. I don’t think it’s a psychological issue (but crazy people really don’t know their crazy, do they?) Even if my beautiful wife left or died, I’d be despondent for some time, but life would go on. I never needed anyone before…until you. You were so noisy and bothersome that for the first 6 months of your life I begged my wife to let me sell you on the black market. You were cute and had all your fingers and toes so you would have fetched a hefty sum; enough to put a nice down payment on a new house. But your mother just looked at me with daggers shooting from her eyes and I would slink out of the room. Damn her. Then one day…it was close to my birthday, I was holding you and I made a funny face and you laughed. It was all downhill from there. I began to love you. And it only got worse as time went on. No one in my life has ever gotten in as far as you have. My favorite time is bed time when we’ve finished reading “Where the Wild Things Are,” and “Guess How Much I Love You” and I turn out the light and get the covers snuggled up under your chin. I kiss you on the tip of your nose and tell you, “I love you, big girl.” And you say, “I love you too, daddy.” I get choked up every time I hear that. I’m glad the lights are out. How I wish to God I could keep you this age, but I know that you’ll eventually become a teenager, and may very well break my heart. That’s okay; it’s yours to break.  <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 2006-04-15T17:31:13-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/151513746.html How did you DO that? text RANT: A Letter to the Only Working Toilet http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/141924895.html Dear only working toilet in women’s bathroom: Hi. It’s me: the girl that visits you at least three times a day from 8am to 5pm. I try not to. I try to avoid you until I get home, but I can’t. That is why you and I need to talk. I’m sure you are aware of your little problem. Your sensor is messed up and decides to flush every 30 seconds whether my ass is sitting on you or not. If you were a domestic toilet, this wouldn’t be such a problem, but you are a commercial toilet with a powerful flush. This makes it quite unpleasant when I’m sitting on you and 30 seconds later you behave as a bidet. However, being the adaptable person that I am, I’ve learned to master you. You see, once I sit, I do what’s called “power pee”, which requires me pushing the urine out of my body within twenty seconds. This gives me six seconds to physically recover from this. Then, I lift my ass off the seat, let you do your timed flushing, and then I resume with wiping. This has been the routine for the last two months. Well, today was a different day. You flushed earlier than normal. No, don’t argue. I know you did. I was joyfully sitting on you enjoying my “power pee”, and before I finished you flushed, splattering my ass with your toilet water mixed with my urine. The joy was lost. I frantically tried to wipe myself with toilet paper, but you impressively covered a large portion of my lower body with your water, making it difficult to wipe it all. I had to stand in the stall, with my pants down, airing out my ass for five minutes. As I did this, you happily flushed twelve times, mocking me with your porcelain grin. Fuck you toilet and everything you stand for. Yours truly, The girl with the wet ass webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-14T14:53:55-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/141924895.html RANT: A Letter to the Only Working Toilet text An Open Letter to Straights http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/139883238.html An open letter to Straights Apparently all this time I’ve been shoving my sexuality in your face and forcing it on you. I misunderstood. I didn’t know. I am so sorry. I mistakenly thought it was you who were shoving your lifestyle in my face when you called me faggot before I even knew what that word meant. I thought you were forcing your sexuality on me when you and your friends cornered me in the locker room after gym class in junior high school, called me a goddamn homo and beat the shit out of me. I thought the coach was forcing his lifestyle on me when he shouted down at my broken and bleeding body in the locker room that I asked for it because I was looking at the other guys “funny”. I thought you were shoving your sexuality in my face when you spray painted my name and “is a fag” on the side of the High school building. When you and your friends trashed my car and then afterwards ran me off the road as I was walking home from school, laughing and calling me a “Queer” I thought I was just walking home from school and not forcing my sexuality down your throat. I was mistaken and apparently trying to force my deviant lifestyle on you in college that day when thought I might be just trying to find someone like me to talk to when you and your cop friends entrapped me, arrested me and beat me up and threw me in jail because I looked at you the wrong way and smiled at you. Apparently I asked for it when you and your friends chased me down the street, pulled me into an alley and broke my nose with a booze bottle after I had the gall to come out a known gay bar one night in college. When I was in the military, I thought one of my friends might be just trying to live a decent, honorable life with his partner of 10 years when you and your military police friends pulled him into an interrogation room and accused him of sodomy because he was living with a guy and not dating women. When you kicked him out of the service and dumped him 3500 miles from his home with no money and no job, I didn’t realize that he was forcing his lifestyle on you. I’m sure he’s sorry too. I didn’t realize that you were offended by us when my best friend asked to be admitted to his partners’ hospital room while he was dying. You see, he’d lived with him for 20 years and they had shared their life together but had the misfortune of living in a state where people like him had no “legal status” and so his sweet love of 20 years died alone surrounded by people who thought that God had given him AIDS as punishment for the sin of homosexuality. He didn’t understand that your religious sensibilities were more important than his misguided need to be with his partner when he died. All this time I thought you were forcing your sexuality on me, but now I know that I was forcing mine on you. I am so sorry that all my life, I’ve mistakenly thought that being left alone to live my life, to work and to have a home and family and to be allowed to love who I choose was just living my life - like you live yours. Little did I know that all that time I was cramming my disgusting sexuality and lifestyle down your throat, forcing you to accept me and demanding “Special Rights”. Now that I’m older and wiser, you’ll excuse the silly idealism of a dotty middle aged guy who had a vain hope that maybe I could marry the guy I’ve been living with for fifteen years and not have to worry if my religiously devout family will decide to ransack my home after my death because my family – the family who have largely cared less if I lived or died – have more legal rights than my partner, no matter what I say in my will. You’ll excuse my mistaken notion that I should be allowed to have a good job and not be fired at will because my boss might find out that I live with a guy and am still “single”. You’ll pardon my liberal sensibilities when I think I should be able to rent an apartment from someone who might decide that two guys living together is “an abomination”, or be able to open a joint checking account with my partner, because now I know that it isn’t “normal” for two guys to set up a home together. Hopefully, you’ll excuse my mistaken notion that my life and my love and my family are at least as important and significant as yours – yes, even when you beat the shit out of your wife the day after she caught you fucking the underaged babysitter, even when you tossed your 15 year old gay son out on the streets, even when I gladly pay very high taxes to send your kids to good schools and you cheat on yours. I hope you will understand when I was momentarily struck speechless when you raised up your bible and told me that God thinks that I am an abomination and will go to hell. You’ll excuse me for my silly notion that God maybe has other more pressing matters than to care that much if I decide that I want to live with someone I love instead of being alone and celibate. You’ll pardon my weakness when I want a family and have to do it by shoving my homosexual lifestyle in your face. Finally, please excuse the silly sentimentality of an old man who after nearly six decades of life sees a movie with two “normal” guys who are cowboys who fall in love together. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any people like me in the movies who aren’t silly and shallow or tragic and dying of something or another. It’s been years since I’ve seen someone like me love someone like my partner and not die because of it or end up some tragic stupid queen. So the movie made me happy and so I was momentarily blinded by the hope that it might be recognized as a watershed moment in tolerance. I now know it was a shameful use of one of your dearest symbols of American manliness to once again shove my disgusting lifestyle down your throat. You’ll excuse me please. All this time, all my life – I just thought you were trying to make me be something that I can never be. I just thought you were forcing me to conform to your idea of normality. I mistakenly thought you hated me. I was mistaken. Obviously, all this time I was forcing my lifestyle on you. Please accept my apologies. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-07T13:50:45-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/139883238.html An Open Letter to Straights text Sinners in the Hands of an Angry Craig http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/139449303.html In the beginning, there was neither form nor substance. Craig moved His hand across the face of the void and created the List. He looked upon His work and saw that it was good. For He had given the people a place where they might find work, and thus reap the fruit of their labor. For He had given the people a place where they might buy things they did not need, and thus waste the fruit of their labor. For He had given the people a place where they might hook up, and thus share the pleasure of flesh through fornication. For He had given the people a place where they might rant about their lack of funds and the curious rash in their groin. And the Children of the List were pleased for all that the Creator had given to them. All praise to Craig, the Creator of the List. And lo, it came to pass that, in His labors, Craig turned His eye from the List, and in His absence the Children of the List didst succumb to their weakness and the temptations of the Dark Ones, and didst spoil the List. Craig again turned His eye to His List and gnashed His teeth in fury. He spaketh such, “Children, why hast though betrayed the Creator of the List?” The Children of the List, blinded by the lies of the Dark Ones, did not heed the Creator. In his growing wrath, Craig spaketh again, “Why hast thou failed Me? Hast I not scribed My Terms of Use upon the gateway to the List? Hast I not commanded each and all to agree to drive the Dark Ones hence if they violate my Terms? Must I hold thine hand?” The Children of the List, their minds long clouded by the Dark Ones’ self-serving deceit, spaketh, “Craig, we know not of what You speak, for hast Thou not created the List and given it to us for our use?” Craig raged on high, “The List is not thine, nor the Dark Ones’, but truly the Creator’s, for this is Craigslist, and all must follow the Creator’s Terms. Thou hast failed Me by allowing the Dark Ones to post in violation of My Terms of Use.” The Children of the List spaketh, “But truly Thou hast set no such law. The Dark Ones tell us that “patently offensive” material is expected, and that we must not flag it.” Craig shook His mighty head in sorrow, “Fools. By “patently offensive” I meant the profane, the unguarded, the churlish. Canst thou not read further? What part of “I agree to flag as "prohibited" any posting I see that is illegal or otherwise violates the Craigslist terms of use” dost thou not understand? I didst not create a sewer for the Dark Ones to play in.” “Lo, this is My commandment unto you: Thou shalt flag all posts that violate My Terms. Didst thou not read the warning that I hast scribed?: without the flagging system, “the site would quickly become unusable”. “I, the Creator, have commanded thee to smite the Dark Ones and drive them hence from My List, and thou hast failed me. My List hast been spoilt by these asshats.” The Children of the List now saw their error, and were stricken with grief for their folly. The List that had been given to them was now almost lifeless, poisoned by the Dark Ones. Woe unto those who do not heed the commands of the Creator. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-06T08:59:10-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/139449303.html Sinners in the Hands of an Angry Craig text RAVE RAVE RAVE: "I'll take you where you need to go" http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/138796534.html So this morning I'm running late for school as usual and am cross and frustrated and tired after staying up all night to write a paper and generally just in a relatively "Blech" mood. Luckily I was able to make the bus, but only because it was held up with all the construction going on in front of U Village which has turned 45th into an absolute (if temporary) nightmare. So the bus is rumbling along and trying to get over amidst the dozen or little cars who are all determined to get ahead of us before the bus can switch into the lane it needs... *Tangent* (Btw, you clowns ever read those "yield" signs on the back? Yeah, they're not kidding.. YIELD! Is being one car length in front of the bus really worth trying to vie for position with 15 tons of steel and glass with your little Hundai Accent? I got 5 bucks says who is going to win that battle!) *ahem* As I was saying.. so the bus driver is just doing his damnedest (I recognize this is probably not really a word) to merge over and he makes it over just in time to make it to the next stop, which he does announce and when no one pulled the cord, he gratefully kept on trucking to turn out of the traffic mess onto campus. As we are waiting to go through the intersection at the light at 25th, a very old (like 90 if a day) blind man nervously asked if his stop had come yet... The bus driver instantly remembered that this man had asked to be let off at the last stop he'd just passed. This man was clearly hard of hearing (had giant hearing aids) and in no way could have known the stop was coming up to pull the cord. The driver had told him he'd remember to let him off there and then with all the traffic and stuff I guess he just forgot. (To his credit, he felt really really bad about it and was apologizing profusely). The old blind man was clearly scared and asked to be told where he was exactly but even though we weren't far from where he wanted to get off... it would have been very difficult for him to get back there because the sidewalk is not continuous. The driver offered to let him off at that corner and was trying to explain how to do it, but it was just too complicated for this guy. (I don't blame him, the 25th, 45th, montlake intersection is kind of convoluted for pedestrians)The obviously distressed man finally decided that rather than risk it he'd just get off at the next stop and catch the next bus coming back the other way... With an "Are you sure?" the driver began to close the doors again but then.. from the back of the bus came a woman's voice.... "I'll take you where you need to go" she said as she made her way to the front. She turned to the driver and said, "I can take him" and with that the driver let the elderly blind man and the young woman in a black jacket and pink bandana in her hair off the bus. The bus was at the light for a moment or two longer and as I watched this woman gently talking to this man as she held his elbow and began escorting him safely to his destination I couldn't help but almost feel the kindness radiating off of her in his direction. They were beautiful. Her:looking very much the Seattle "granola girl" and him: frail, tapping his white cane in front of him. Say what you want about hippies, liberals, whatever.. This woman displayed an unselfish compassion this morning that should put us all to shame, regardless of affiliation. You see, she didn't pull the cord either... she was obviously on her way to somewhere else, and chose instead to delay her plans to help this total stranger walk half a block to safety. I was humbled. Thank you, Ms. Kindest-Blue-Eyes-Ever for helping me to remember why we're all really here on this earth and for shaming me for my inaction to help my fellow man out of preoccupation with my own interests. I needed that. I think we all do. So RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE to you! You not only made my morning, you made my co-workers mornings too when I walked into the lab and told them this story. Good on ya! Signed, An anonymous girl you gently brushed past on the bus so you could do what we ALL should have been making our way forward to do webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-03T16:46:15-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/138796534.html RAVE RAVE RAVE: "I'll take you where you need to go" text LIES! ALL LIES! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/134854068.html The gray, waxy thing that my pizza is sitting on sucks. It's a lie. "They" tell us that it will make our food crispy when we microwave food on it. You know what I'm talking about. You're supposed to put your pizza or your hot pocket or whatever on it and it's supposed to make your food as crispy as if you baked it. You don't bake it because you don't have 30 min to wait to stuff your face because you are a lazy fuck or a fat fuck (I hope I am the former but soon, after eating all these microwave pizzas, I will become the latter) and you want your food NOW so you nuke it in the microwave instead. yeah. It doesn't work. It never works. It's not a crispy-maker, it's a sadness-maker. It raises your hopes only to dash them. It's like the dead beat dad that never went to your soccer games. It's like the loser boyfriend who never keeps his promises but you stay with him because he's cool and he plays a little guitar and drinks snapple. It's like the presidential election where you vote hoping that Bush will lose. It sucks. The pizza comes out just as soggy except this time, it comes with the added suspicion that you have just increased your chances for getting cancer because you nuked it on the gray thing. It's bullshit. In fact, I don't even know what it's made of but I hate it. If ever an inanimate object could mock someone, it would be this thing. I hate you, you gray-colored, waxy, sorta-shiny-yet-dull, plastic, paper thingy that comes with my microwave pizza. <img src=134854068.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-02-17T19:12:25-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/134854068.html LIES! ALL LIES! text You - Gorgeous... Me - A Gamer... - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/134426482.html It was last Friday. I had just gotten up from a SWEET game of Warcraft on my PC. Anyway, I realized I was dangerously low on Mountain Dew, so I threw on my lucky green sweat pants and my trenchcoat to walk 3 blocks to the convenience store. I figured if I had enough change, I might even pick up some Slim Jims, but I digress... On my way back to my apartment, Dew and Slim Jims in hand, I saw you and your friends walking into the Jazz club across the street. You seemed so comfortable and cool dressed to the nines for an evening of drinks and dancing with those closest to you. It was then that I knew I had to meet you. Although I had never been in that particular establishment, I followed you in. You probably would have seen me, but I was slowed by an argument with the doorman over my attire. After a few minutes, I think I had him convinced I looked ok, but then he proceeded to ask me for $10 just to walk into the bar. I couldn't believe they wanted to charge me just to get in. I, of course had no money, having spent every spare cent on caffeine and sticks of processed beef. I walked back to the convenience store and failed in my effort to return the goods I had so recently purchased. Luckily, the store had an ATM, so I pleaded with the checker to hold my purchases behind the counter for a short time, and I withdrew $20 from the cash machine. Armed with my fresh $20 bill, I marched to the Jazz Club, paid the $10 cover, and went looking for the woman of my dreams. I saw you immediately, near the bar with your friends. You were at the end of the group with some space next to you, so I settled in close. You noticed me once or twice as I cleared my throat nervously trying to think of what to say. It sounded like you may have commented on my trenchcoat to one of your friends, but I couldn’t be sure. I finally bumped you to get your attention. I may have bumped to hard as I noticed you spilled some of your drink on your shirt. Sorry about that. ME: So... Do you come here often? YOU: No. (you turn back to your friends) ME: Me neither. I hate bars. I can't come to terms with why anyone would want to pay such high margins on watered down drinks they could make at home for a fraction of the cost... (I trail off noticing you aren't listening) I regroup and lean in close to your ear... ME: What are you drinking there? YOU: (barely looking over your should back to me) A gin and tonic. ME: Can I buy you one? YOU: I already have one, see... (you hold up your drink sarcastically) ME: Well then, can I reimburse you for the one you are drinking? YOU: What? (looking at me now) ME: Let me pay you back for that one. YOU: Whatever. (looking puzzled and annoyed) ME: How much was it? YOU: What? ME: How much is a gin and tonic? YOU: Five dollars ME: Jesus Christ! What fool pays $5 for a freakin’ drink? That's robbery!!! YOU: Get away from me. ME: (embarrassed by my outburst) No, no, no. I said I'd pay you for it, so I will. (reaching in my pocket) Do you have change for a $10? You: What? ME: I only have a ten dollar bill? Do you have five dollars change? YOU: (turning to face me completely and folding your arms as your friends quiet down to watch our interaction) Actually, this drink was $6 with tip. ME: What? YOU: My drink. It was $5 plus $1 for tip! ME: Damn, this is getting expensive. Ok, do you have $4 change for my $10. YOU: No. ME: Well, then I'll have to get change from the bartender. YOU: Don't bother. Leave me alone. (you turn back to your friends as they erupt in laughter) I spend 10 mintues trying to get the bartender's attention. I can't blame him much because he was very busy serving so many other morons begging to be robbed of their hard earned dollars. When he finally gets to me, he tells me he won't give me change, but I can buy a drink and will get change from that. I tell him I wouldn't dream of paying such inflated prices for frozen water and a few drops of our country’s last legal poison… He goes on to the next patron. Frustrated, I go to the bathroom to pee and think about my next move. I’m pretty sure if I can just pay you for that drink that we will soon be making hot monkey love back at my apartment. However, I am disappointed at how much dating is already costing me, and how many obstacles one must overcome to simply buy a girl a drink. I start to plan my speech to you about how I may have jumped into this relationship too quickly, and that maybe we should just be friends. While washing my hands in the sink, I notice there’s a bathroom attendant. He is smiling and waiting with fresh paper towels for me. Next to him is his tray of tips stacked with dollar bills. I drop my ten dollar bill on the tray, as the attendants smile widens. Then, I pick up a pile of ones and begin counting them. The bathroom attendant gets very hostile and grabs the cash from my hand. I wrestle with him over the wad of cash. One of the bouncers must have been just outside the bathroom. I was sure that he would understand my story, and we could get everything sorted out. Boy was I wrong. He didn’t want to hear anything. He just grabbed me by my trench coat and ripped me out the bathroom door and toward the exit. I yelled “I LOVE YOU” to you as he dragged me past your group. You replied loudly for all to hear FUCK OFF CREEP!!! I know we’re meant for each other. Give me another chance. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-02-16T10:27:01-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/134426482.html You - Gorgeous... Me - A Gamer... - m4w text Missed connection with My Perfect Geek - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/133661272.html I know you'd be perfect for me. You, the ridiculously tall geeky guy who so often rides my bus. You know who you are. You get on in Ravenna, right by that cute Beyond the Garden Gate store, and you get off at the stop closer to the park. (Everyone stalks bus patrons when their iPod -or in my case, Discman- runs out of batteries; don't get all freaked out on me just yet, keep reading). I can tell you're what I'm looking for. Oh, and to clarify, I don't really mean in a boyfriend (we'll get to that). See, I've been trying to find someone to help me out with a geeky computer project, namely fixing my website, but no luck so far from both of the stupid CL ads I posted. But I just KNOW your geek skillz would do the trick - you obviously spend more time with that laptop you carry like a newborn baby than you do interacting with the non-cyber world. I so know you're the perfect geek for my website project, I just know it. And oh, dear Geek Boy, you're My Perfect Geek for other projects as well. See, I know it's fine to dress geeky in the programmer/IT world, but man, it doesn't hurt to know how to look good for us real-life folks, especially the ladies. And judging by your glaring-white Avia leather sneakers; your pleated-tapered-AND-cuffed khakis (that's not a good thing, dude); your braided leather belt; your dorky middle-school type glasses frames; your slicked-back creepy dracula-esque mullety hair; and that sort of dissociated slack-jawed look you get when walking down the big bus aisle to the spot at the back where your laptop is safest - you could use a hand from a girl, trust me. Or Queer Eye, which you clearly never watch or you wouldn't wear that belt. And the killer thing is, with the right makeover, you'd actually be kind of hot. I mean, you'd have to stop slouching so much, and the jaw thing would require some real discipline too, and I understand that I'll never be able to convince you to trade in your Swiss Army Victorinox hardcore laptop case, and that new eyeglasses frames are expensive and that programmer contracts often don't provide vision benefits - but come on man, there's plenty more to work with. You've actually got really nice bone structure - and a full head of hair, unless the greasy-slickback is your young and hip version of a combover - and you're tall to boot, which everyone who reads CL knows women love. I could so totally get you laid, Geek Boy. You'd be PERFECT. And hell, I might even consider dating you myself, espeically since I'm a pretty tall gall and it's majorly hard to find tall-enough guys in this world - except that after I'm done transforming you you'd probably have understandably massive control and self-esteem issues as far as how I related to your appearance, and I'd probably be over-controlling and try to make over things that I'd normally let slide or not even care about, and it'd probably blow up in this big awful disgusting fight - either that or you'd just start acting out in subtle ways to escape my Fashion Police efforts, like going back to wearing the shoes and growing your hair out all skanky again, and then I'd stop being attracted to you and stop putting out, shallow as that may sound, but come on, the shoes and the hair just really are that bad, and we'd just subtly dig at each other until we'd both made each other completely miserable, so then it'd be bound to end badly no matter what, but trust me, I can totally hook you up with some other girl(s) once you're all hot, or at least arm you with the looks and confidence to go get 'em yourself. But first you have to fix my website, and then you gotta lose the shoes, man. Seriously. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-02-13T14:30:51-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/133661272.html Missed connection with My Perfect Geek - w4m text A breakup note to Trader Joe's http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/130239058.html Sorry Joe, it's not you, it's me. No, no... that's a lie. It's you, and the other people you've been seeing. When we first started seeing each other things were great. I loved you for your tasty and unique variety of frozen snacks, sauces and dry goods. I was never so happy as when I was sipping a glass of your shockingly inexpensive chardonnay or tasting a wonderfully decadent miniature dessert. It never bothered me that your pleasantly hippy exterior was just a transparent cover for your low-grade snob appeal and nagging need to be trendy. I admit, it really attracted me in a forbidden way - I'm also an elitist ass and couldn't come to terms with my nascent desire to be cool. But those feelings are gone now. When I see you now all I can remember are the awful battles to get through your cramped little parking lot, the eternally long lines and the other obnoxious shoppers you insist on seeing. Specifically, I can't handle you seeing these people: The parking lot meanderers - I understand that you're not in a hurry. And, truthfully, I don't HAVE to be anywhere urgently either; but I would much rather spend my time doing something I enjoy than waiting for you to cross the parking lot crosswalk with all the speed and alacrity of a palsy patient in a tar pit. Also, walking down the middle of the lane while the cars behind you move at your strolling pace isn't helping anyone. Please, just get in your damn Volvo station wagon parked diagonally into 2 lanes and go home, someone there may just appreciate you getting in their way. I don't. The faux-wine snob - You would almost entertain me, if I didn't despise you. I'm glad that you like to flash your platinum card while buying a few bottles of overpriced wine that you scrutinized for 15 minutes while I ignoring my polite requests to be 'excused' and allowed to pass you in the wine aisle. Perhaps I should give you a cheat sheet which could make your wine shopping a little easier. Here are the tips you need to know: -Joe's is great for inexpensive wines. Charles Shaw is really a wonder of the free market. Remember, you don't get to drink the price tag. -No one is impressed by pretention. Also, for future reference, Neitzche doesn't rhyme with "peachy." -That bottle of Sutter Home you considered for it's "earthy tones?" You can buy that at Safeway. Also, "earthy tones" means that it tastes like dirt. -The expensive wines are just there to make you think that the selection is "great." Those are decent, but incredibly overpriced bottles for people with money who can't tell the difference. Wait... sorry, that's for you. Would it be easier for you if they just labeled them with your name? Anyone buying organic pet food - Have you watched your dog lick his own balls or chew the shit out of a piece of colored rubber lately? They don't care if their food is organic, they just want to eat a lot of it and then shit it out on the sidewalk so you have to scoop it up. Seriously, watch how happy they are the next time you scoop up their shit for them. The guy buying frozen vaccuum packed Atlantic salmon - You're truly the antithesis of the Wine Snob, you are the guy who doesn't appreciate what he has or could have. You live in the greatest seafood city in the world. If you're snobby enough to shop at Trader Joe's you can suck it up and spring for something good from a real fish market. The people lingering at the free samples counter - Sadly, my formerly-beloved Queen Anne Trader Joe's was designed by a sadistic freak who placed the sample counter at the narrowest and most highly trafficked point of the store, creatingly a painfully constipated shopping sphincter. There's no avoiding the poor design, but must you linger for minutes at a time savoring every crumb of your shitty little want-to-be-DiGiorno pizza. If you do find it necessary to stand there and not step out of the way I promise that I will also find it necessary to jab you in the kidney as I sqeeze through. Whoever decided to discontinue the Trader Joe's peanut butter Oreo knock-offs - How can there be any value to life in a world without those wonderfully tasty treats? The "Everything here is so cheap!" people - Obviously there was no math requirement at your liberal arts college. Either that, or you can't be honest with yourself through your haze of liberal guilt over your trust fund. Get over it and admit that you're a snob who doesn't really care if they pay a little more for something they like, or shut up and shop at Safeway. I'm sorry Joe, I just can't go on living a lie. If you can't change, or stop seeing other people then I have to end it. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-01-31T20:04:47-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/130239058.html A breakup note to Trader Joe's text The Magic Nine Factors That Cause the "Seattle Chill" http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/128483320.html CL R&R is divided into two camps: those that have seen the Seattle Chill in action and know it exists, and those who reflexively scream at the first camp to fuck off or move out of town. The Seattle Chill IS an established sociological phenomenon that has been extensively documented, written about and attracted academic interest. A growing number of research professionals are interested in learning why Seattle is such an angry, unwelcoming, repressed, socially backward little city. As a personal experiencer and student of the Seattle Chill I believe I have isolated the nine key factors that generate it. Few are unique to Seattle. No single factor, or even two or three together, would affect the culture profoundly. But stir them all together and they have a Chilling effect. Seattle is the only city on earth where all nine key factors intersect in a perfect Big Bang -- a quintessence of dysfunction. It's like seeing the atom split, a borderline mystic phenomenon, with the results being neighbors who won't talk to you and strangers who tell you to fuck off when you smile at them. 1. TECHNOLOGY. Wired/Internet culture is inherently isolating. People use the anonymity of e-culture to dodge the work of human relationships. Every office knows the downside of substituting email for face-to-face communication. Impose that culture on a highly wired metropolitan area and it's disastrous. 2. DARKNESS. Admittedly a seasonal factor, because the summers are glorious, but Seattle is characterized mainly by endless, gray, wet, dark winters. Nobody feels like connecting when the sun is gone for months. Seasonal affectedness disorder is a known mental condition, and the whole city suffers from it. 3. GEOGRAPHY. Surrounded by water on three sides, the city is difficult to get to. Commute times are longer. Errands take longer. Traffic jams and basic life maintenance tasks snuff out hours that could be used to establish and maintain human relationships. Consequently people do not feel they have the capacity or energy to maintain the ones they've got, let alone start new ones. 4. PARALYSIS. Too few roads and a lame transit system mean we all spend too much time in our cars, alone and stationary. This isolation becomes second nature. 5. TRANSPLANT PRESSURE. The townies resent the newbies for ruining Seattle's imagined Podunk innocence. The Chill tends to segregate Seattleites into groups of locals who went to Garfield High together... and knots of transplants who find each other and share their perplexity about the townies. 6. INSECURITY. Seattle is a sort of Potemkin world-class city, with a lot of gnawing, provincial fears and small-town, small-bore sensibilities behind the 21st-century facade. (In no other city have I heard so many natives proudly proclaim their disinterest in discovering other places, because "everything I could ever want is right here.") Any seventh grader will tell you insecurity impedes social interaction. 7. WEALTH ENVY. Too much new money from quick tech fortunes and unnatural real estate appreciation. It's divided the Seattle population into haves and have-nots that hate each other -- not on the basis of intelligence or faithful hard work, but on arbitrary, lotterylike terms: who lucked into the right employer or neighborhood and who didn't. The wealth lottery is a key destabilizer and anger-breeder. That's why your neighbor just stares at you instead of saying good morning. Maybe you bought your place outright on a whim while she's drowning in a 30-year mortgage. She hates you for it. 8. INSTANT GRATIFICATION CULTURE. Thanks in part to dot-com culture, in part to a general decline in societal structure, people expect to achieve all manner of material rewards -- BMWs, Thai diving holidays, granite countertops -- virtually overnight and become angry when denied. I've seen 27-year-old tech-world workers fly into rages or sink into funks because they couldn't have exactly the Mercer Island house they wanted. When people lose the concept of investing and earning to achieve things, they lose the ability to relate to people. (And it's not only young people; as someone smarter than me has observed, if you want to see raw anger, try telling any upper-middle-class American woman she can't have something.) 9. POLITICAL IMPOTENCE. The liberal/progressive paradigm is virtually overthrown in the US. The Democratic leadership is inept and incoherent. Some of the movement's last angry avatars are out here clinging to the country's leftmost, jagged edge. Having failed to change the country they are now reduced to snatching cigarettes out of people's fingers and, like the hard right, screaming insults at anyone who disagrees with them. These people have never exactly been relaxed anyway. Now that their eclipse is about total, Seattle's air is weighted with their general rage and disapproval. Thank you for your interest in the root causes of the Seattle Chill. Anyone who responds here by telling me to fuck off or move away is personifying Factors 1,5 and 6. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-01-25T15:24:27-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/128483320.html The Magic Nine Factors That Cause the "Seattle Chill" text Why guys don't write back??? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/128113322.html As a public service, thought'd it'd be nice to list some reasons why I will not write back. This may or may not be true for others. 1) You reveal that your divorce is not final, or are still "separated". No one wants to be with someone who hasn't gotten their affairs in order (no pun intended). 2) You reveal that you just got out of a major relationship in the past two months. Women (and men) who are on the rebound are unrelaible emotionally, and are a flight risk (e.g. I really like you, now please get out of my life). 3) You say you are HWP, but you picture indicates you are overweight. This is an honesty issue, like with men and height or income. 4) You inquire who else I'm "dating". It is likely that I am going on a first, second, and even a third date with people, especially since the first date on CL is equal to the first pre-date encounter other times in real life. Do you really want that information? There is no correct answer to this question (no means I'm not desireable, yes means I'm a man-slut or a player). Don't ask me such invasive questions. I may have had wild monkey sex with my third date last night, but I still went out with you. It might be because no man in his right mind will turn down sex, but will keep looking for the "one" even if that sex was damn good. While in most people's book, sex constitutes a form of physical monogamy, all bets are off on dating until being exclusive is discussed or its desire expressed. 5) You say that you are "direct" with people and that is a way of being honest, and that some people have a problem with that. What this says to me is that you have no grace or tact when talking about things, are hyper critical, and say inappropriate things. I don't need any of that. The deal here is respect, and getting to know me before you are entitled to talk about my personality flaws. 6) My entire INBOX got deletaed by mistake. It has happened. 7) Too many replies. It happens to the men too. A man spends as much time fielding 5-6 replies as a women with 50 replies. The weeding out process for men usually involves dating all of them ASAP, because each of them has 50 other guys lined ready to go out with them. 8) You say something that makes my "potential sperm donor" meter go into the red. I know there are asshole men, and there are asshole women. Some women will marry for kids first and love second. That is a fear amongst men. When this comes out, it's splitsville. 9) Excessive reference to all the men you have dated and moved on from in the last 6 months. Sure, it might be true, but I don't want to hear how you axed you second or third dates because of a very minor thing (and drug usage, excessive drinking, criminal records are not minor). I don't wish to be a statistic. I don't want to hear about your serial promiscuity for the past 5 years (I don't have a problem with it; I just don't want to hear about it) . You haven't said that I'm any different than anyone else, so why would I think I was different or special to you?. 10) Excessive cancellations. Nothing screams a) can't express wants, b) dating multiple men already, or c) not interested, then cancellations and refusals to commit to a time and place. I don't have time for that. 11) Neutral or no reciprocation of compliments. Relationships are a mutual thing, not ego stroking. If you want anonymous admiration, be an actor or rock star. 12) You've told me something deep and personal that also is a deal breaker in most people's books. You are intelligent and beautiful, but you revealed a major thing that can only be gotten around by becoming very good friends first. Included on the list (and this does not mean that all of these things are bad things): Herpes II positive, you spend all of your free time caring for disabled parents and don't have a lot of time to be in a relationship, you are in therapy, etc. Lets get to know each other a little bit, before dropping such heaviy shit on me. Maybe I will meet you and see how cool you are, be a part of your life as a friend, and then we see what happens from there. Dating from the get-go isn't gonna happen. 13) Some shit came up in my own life and dating had to take a back seat for a minute. We're talking death in the family, car accident, best freind in the hospital, me in the hospital, etc. 14) Computer took a shit before I could get your number on paper. 15) You pry too much into my family history or relationship history early on. This is information that is voluntarily revealed in the early stages, and talked about within a trustful setting later on. If I am damaged you will know soon enough. I don't tell my "shit" to strangers, just like you don't have sex with strangers. I don't want to be judged when it is obviously too early to spend the hour to give the full explanation. And there are mistakes I made that I am sorry for that I'm not going to talk about right now. Sometimes, to write back and say "I don't feel we have potential" opens the door for you to then insist on me telling you why, and I am doing you a favor by not telling you. You have to figure it out on your own, and are less likely to do so if I tell you. After all, I'm just some guy on CL; what the hell do I know, anyway? webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-01-24T11:59:49-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/128113322.html Why guys don't write back??? text 1001 reasons why you wanna be my boyfriend http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/126742195.html I didn't vote for either George Bush April 2oth is my New Years I don't tear the tags off my mattresses til I get home I always stop to pet dogs outside of grocery stores I'm likely to have a different hair color every time you see me I'm slippery when wet I only use the rail when I walk down the stairs 30% of the time ( I love to walk the line ya know) I've never read Playboy for the articles I'll make you laugh I've never been in one of Tommy Lee's movies I'll never under cook the eggs I'll never drink your last beer I can make a mean pot of chili I'll pretend I didn't see you look at that chick with the big boobs I'll always be impressed with how strong you are I know that handcuffs aren't just for the cops I've never kicked a boy in the balls I recycle I do know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop I won't steal the vicoden out of your medicine cabinet I'll take care of you when you're sick and sometimes just because I think you're the shit I'll make fun of you I come with my own set of ear plugs in case of snoring I can give a kick ass back rub I haven't been a house guest of O.J. Simpson I like porn I can't stand soaps I've got a sweet 420 hook up I don't care if you leave the seat up I give road head I think chicks are hot I have my nipples pierced I pump my own gas I don't give a shit if I break a nail I've got cookies I don't chew tobacco I take a shower every day, twice even sometimes I like it when you pull my hair I'll let you beat me at pool I'll keep working until I chip away at your walls I don't care that you go out with the boys I don't eat crackers in bed too often I think it's hot when you come home all dirty from playing hard I like it when dogs sleep in the bed I can't stand the mall My tongue is pierced twice I don't care what music we listen to in the car I've never eaten a bon-bon in my life My closet comes equipped with a shit load of hoodies I'd never ask you to go to lunch with my mother When you wash the dishes it turns me on My heart will jump every time you walk through the door I don't care if you cut your toe nails in the living room I'll save everything you ever give me I won't ever forget your birthday, and remind you when mine is coming I can pee standing up (it's totally gross though) I think Project Runway is fucking gay You just can't stop reading this! I've never even seen one episode of Dawson's Creek or Gilmore Girls I always use my nails to scratch a lottery ticket I know where to put in the oil, and have even done it it I'll think you're just about the coolest person I know My friends are hot I don't have hardly any guy friends I've never owned one pink thing I think pizza and a game at the sports bar down the street is the ideal date I won't fuck your friends I won't fuck your brother The kinkier the better What the hell is "in the box"? I always open a window when I paint I've never been on Americas Most Wanted The only drama I have any part of is on t.v. I don't care if you watch my girly movies with me I know how to make a fire I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue I've got secret tattoos My kisses will take your breath away I dig public sex I didn't vote for the 25 ft smoking law I don't care if you leave your socks on You'll never have to do your laundry again My best friend isn't a guy I can't stand John Mayer My burritos are the bomb I never drive faster than 30 mph in a school zone My weird habits you'll find adorable You'll sleep better when I'm next to you I have a membership at 3 video stores I'd fuck Angelina Jolie too I'll thank you every time you open the door I'll never waste your love I'll laugh at every joke even when it's not funny I'd never give you shit in front of your friends It gets better every time Use as much salt as you want I don't care I won't ever let you leave for work in the morning without your lunch I'll help you find your keys I don't stop and ask for directions either I don't have a big brother, so you don't have to worry about getting your ass kicked ever I've always got stoner food I try not to pick my nose, or butt in public We can watch your movie first I've never owned anything Hello Kitty I don't need batteries I once ate a cricket I eat red meat I can kill my own spiders I'll clean the house perfect every time your mom comes I'll always have smooth legs I like it when my hair gets messed up I used to be able to put my feet behind my neck I met Tom Green once I got suspended in high school 3 times My family is just as fucked up as yours I don't want to get married My kid already has a dad I'll always want more I like horror movies I smell pretty good most of the time I don't litter When I can I give to charity I can be ready in 30 minutes or less I lose at arm wrestling every time I've got dirty pictures of me on my computer I look both ways before I cross the street I have cable and HBO I never look directly into the sun I'll look cute in your shirt I'm not a virgin You're hotter and more hilarious than anyone I know I'll show you my boobs at the store when nobody's looking I probably have more porn on my computer than you I old enough to remember when the space shuttle crashed I still get carded almost every time I get booze I won't ever leave makeup on your shoulder I've never hung a pair of panty hose on the shower rack in my life I like it when you call me a whore in bed I can balance a check book I'll help you not to forget your moms birthday I would never yell "fire" in a crowded theatre I"m really good at sneaking food into the movies I was Branciforte Jr. Highs spelling bee champion 2 years back to back I'll never say 'nothings wrong' when there really is I know how to hold my own hair back when I puke My fingers can spill out Mary Had A Little Dream on the piano better than Ray Charles I've never cried over spilt milk I have never stabbed anyone in the eye I can count to 100 by 5's I've never smuggled drugs out of the country I don't care if you eat dinner without a shirt I think it's hot when you masturbate I never overload the washer What else have you got to do? I know that whipped cream goes on more than sundaes I've never auditioned for American Idol I don't eat yellow snow I like it when you talk to your friends about me in bed My sunday morning breakfasts will change your life My chin fits 'just right' in your shoulder when you hold me close I'll understand if you get jealous I'm just that good I never had sexual relations with Bill Clinton or anyone named Bill ever I'm a pepper You're getting very sleepy... I've never been on Jerry Springer I may have already won $10,000,000. I have a subscription to the Herald You won't be able to get me out of your head I know that sticks are better than automatics I'll let you drive every time if you want I buy a new toothbrush every time the blue wears down I know that objects in the mirror are bigger than they appear I would never smoke the last bowl I would never send you to the store for tampons Flowers will get you laid every time I've never gotten caught lip syncing on SNL I have a $3.24 credit at PayLess Shoes I have clean socks that you can borrow if you run out I never leave the engine running while I'm pumping gas I never run with scissors I've taken the Coke/Pepsi challenge and won Almost every time I have a winning bottle top I know how to keep a secret If you spell something wrong I just think it's cute I've never failed a survey I can almost every time find Waldo I never put my fingers in the light socket I'm a gemini I have all my shots It's okay I don't really expect you to last longer than 10 minutes anyways I'm pretty damn funny I'm not a doctor and I've never played one on t.v. either I don't care if you eat off my plate None of my friends are guys I used to have sex with When you're sleeping I'll always try to be quiet I have never run out of gas (well I just fucked myself there now, didn't I?) I know the difference between they're, their, and there You really kinda would dig having someone to cuddle with on the couch I know how to get stains out of tshirts I've seen every episode of "The Shield" I've got rad hair I know how to leave you satisfied and hungry for more every time I'm really good at making lists After reading this far you've already got too much invested anyways webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-01-19T12:56:06-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/126742195.html 1001 reasons why you wanna be my boyfriend text The golden slouch couch http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/124373452.html The Golden slouch couch is an antique peice of furniture fashioned around 1976. It would accentuate a fine shag carpet well. A family heirloom, it has been passed down from countless siblings. Many stories are buried in the tightly wound fabric found in this 1970's relic.... - There was the time my roomate asked our friend if the girl he made out with on this couch was "hot"... "Well, she's not ugly," replied our friend. It was not until many years later that Roomate truly understood this interpretation. - There was the time I, myself, was attempting to "score" on said slouch couch and my girlfriend at the time asked me to bet "a $100 of wine that you will get rid of this couch in your lifetime." This was, of course, after I had claimed I would own this esteemed couch posthumously. I said yes knowing this would lead to a mutual understanding that we both would be around to enjoy the fruits (or dried fruits) of this bet years to come. No fear of commitment here, trust me baby... - Or how about the time my roomate and I began watching "Days of Our Lives" in the Dorms in the hopes that the opposite sex may wander towards our dorm room. Of course they did, and of course Marlena ended up realizing that she was not actually possesed by the devil but was really being manipulated by Stefano Dimera. Damn Stefano, the Pheonix will fall one of these days... - Or how about the time my relative owned the couch and his best friend, heretofore Friend A, called "Golden Chair" on his end of the couch, thus reserving his seat for the next 15 minutes. Unbeknowst to him, Friend A's second (soon to be last) best friend, heretofore Friend B, locked the door as he left, in an attempt to steal his seat. Upon returning to the the locked door Friend A vehemently rattled the door until the door sprung open at around 14 minutes and 54 second after he had left. Friend B then sat firmly in his seat as Friend A dove onto Friend B's lap around 14:59, or 15:00 minutes depending on your point of view. 2 hours later, after Friend A's lap got to know Friend B's buttox very well, my relative decided to go "shoot some hoops", upon which Friend A and B both joined in, thus giving up their Golden Chair privileges. - Or how about the time an infamous Frontman of a (relatively) famous Seattle band recounted the time, as he sat on the Golden Slouch Couch, that he was working at a King Kong sized company (a local industry leader) and needed some relief from work. He felt the need to relieve himself of some "stress" on the job. Thus, he proceeded to the handicapped stall where he began to relieve himself of his on the job (and off the job) stress. Just when he was about to be "relieved", a weelchair came rolling up to his stall. Our hero stopped tugging on his relief mechanism as the wheelchair tugged on the door. The wheelchair rolled off, assuming the stall was "busy" as our hero finished the job. - Or how about the time the present owner of said "Golden Slouch Couch" wrote such an idolized account of a relatively unassuming couch, to sell on Craigslist... while crying... while sitting in said couch... while drunk.... What can I say: parting is such sweet sorrow. Please take this infamous couch and give it a good home. And now, I must be off to search for a nice bottle of wine for my wife... webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-01-11T00:52:12-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/124373452.html The golden slouch couch text RANT: Pregnancy http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/121324323.html Who in the hell's idea was this shit? Let's give a woman a f-in' uterus, some handle-bar like tubes comin' off it, and smack some "ovaries" on the end, so she can MAKE BABIES. Yeah! Good idea!! NO! F**K NO! Alright, to start off...yeah, I'm pregnant. And no, not the "Shit the condom broke, and I don't even know his name, how the hell am I gonna finish middle school now?" kinda pregnant. The pregnant by someone I knew I wanted to have children with, spend the rest of my life with, and consequently got married to, kinda pregnant. (And no, we didn't get hitched because of the rugrat to be, we didn't even know at the time...) *Ahem* Anyway - although I do know for sure that I want to be a parent, can't we just skip this part? I mean really? Can my hubby and I trade off month for month? Why? Here's why: 1. I HATE my favorite food. Yet I eat things a goat would puke at the thought of. 2. Anyone need a pool toy? Well, you can use my pasty, white bloated ass. Breathing makes me bloat. THINKING about breathing makes me bloat. 3. I am the definition of bitch. Look in the dictionary. (I'll wait while you dig it out and dust it off.) Good? Ok, now flip to the B's. Yeah, there, the picture next to bitch? Thats yours truly! 4. Suddenly I have narcolepsy. I fall asleep while sleeping! My bedtime is now 5:30pm. Most of the time I'm not even home from work yet. (Sorry to the guy I almost swerved into on the highway yesterday!) 5. Mysterious aches and twitches. If it weren't for the date on my driver's license, I would honestly believe I'm 60. WTF? I can't even bend over anymore! 6. Nausea. Know what if feels like to be just one shot off praying to the porcelain goddess all night on a night out with the girls? Imagine that ALL day, sans the night o' fun. 7. Stretch marks. Geeeeezus. I'm not even SHOWING and I'm getting stretch marks. I'm gonna look like an albino tiger by the time this is all over. 8. Zits. Holy Clean & Clear, Batman! My fingernails get zits. My zits get zits. Go ahead, change your face wash, I dare ya. 9. Migraines. At least for me. Jiminy cricket, I know there is increased blood, but does it ALL have to do to my head, atthesametime? 10. Gas. As in walking farts. And not just walking farts, sleeping farts, cuddling with the husband farts, working farts, driving farts, and farting farts. Adopt. Save yourself. There are millions of children out there that need you. Take it from a Prego. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-29T15:15:33-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/121324323.html RANT: Pregnancy text To Mr. Aisle-Seat Jackass http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/119506393.html ... Look, no one likes flying. Airports are havens of stressed-out, disgruntled people. So I can completely understand if you were not in the best of spirits. And I myself was not thrilled to be sitting wedged between you, Mr. Aisle-Seat Jackass, and Chatty McWindowseat on my other side. I just wanted to sleep, after having spent a weekend sharing a hotel room with my dad who snores like a friggin’ chainsaw (I could hear it right through the earplugs). So, after sitting down, getting settled and comfy, and dozing off while the flight crew jabbered about exit rows, I was somewhat startled awake by your sharp elbow painfully jabbing my arm off of our shared armrest. That's right, shared. And I was maybe using a centimeter of the very back of my side of said shared armrest. Well, Mr. Aisle-Seat Jackass, I am not one to be elbow-jabbed so rudely and let it go. I thus reinstated my elbow, comfortably working my way so that I now occupied my fully alloted 50% of the elbow rest, much to your quite obvious frustration, and closed my eyes to doze again. Or feign dozing, as you would have it, as you continually jabbed and prodded with your elbow, to no avail - when I decide to stand fast, man, you ain't proddin' me out of that decision, no Sir. At one point I even opened my eyes, stretched my arms above my head, glanced at you and smiled pleasantly, and calmly placed my elbow back where it rightfully was allowed to reside per United Airlines decree. Frustrating, wasn't it? But you know, when Chatty McWindowseat then got up and left to join her conference buddies in another aisle, it really only made sense for me, the center person, to take over her seat. I think most airplane patrons would agree that the person occupying the center should be the one to shift to the newly emptied window seat. However, I could tell you were pissed off about that, and felt it to be a great injustice - largely because you made a face like a troll and then glared at me and coughed so loudly and hackingly and obviously that I thought you might be trying to donate a lung, on the spot. What a Good Samaritan he must be, I tried to force myself to think! But no, you were simply expressing as eloquently as possible that you wanted the window seat. Did your Mom give in to your whining demands for candy when you did that as a child? So anyway, realizing this, I even rationalized that you were such an extremely pissy specimen of a passenger that it would be in my best interest to swallow my pride/stubbornness and just appease you as much as possible, if nothing else, to stop the hacking. So, I then offered you the window seat, since you were clearly so attached to it - but you made that awful face again, pretended you didn't understand English (which I later realized was not the case), and turned away (after strewing your personal belongings all over my purse which I had leaned against my side of the now-shared center seat, which I am obliged to point out took up maybe four inches of the 24 or so total available inches of seat-width). Fine, I didn't mind strewing your dandruff-covered jacket aside when I need to switch CDs. I also didn't mind that your precariously-placed laptop nearly slid off about five times during the course of the flight. Then, the movie started. Now I realize you really REALLY wanted to look out that window, but since the flight crew had specifically requested that we lower our window shades for better viewing of the film, and since I myself was in fact interested in watching said film, and lastly, since common etiquette and sense dictate that the person who sits at the window, controls the window, I shut the shade. However, you were such a whiny little fucktard about it that I even specifically caught your eye, smiled, and opened the goddamn window shade during the movie and indicated to you that you could look out the window since I’d opened it just for you. You just shot me another charming little glare, though, so I shut it in the interest of creating a NICE DARK AMBIANCE for movie-watching. And the first two movies did suck, I admit, but the third was cute and wittily written and even had some bona-fide laugh-out-loud moments. And as such, I did titter audibly, I confess. Never mind that entire row behind us was chortling so violently that it literally shook our seats (and caused your laptop to nearly fall once again). It was still definitely justifiable for you to shoot me the most withering glare you could muster as well as doing that sigh-cough-borderline-lose-a-lung thing again to punish me for the offense of quiet laughter. Especially since you SANG OUT LOUD IN BENGALI to the fucking Bollywood flicks you were watching on your laptop, complete with head and arm motions that literally extended, if we want to get technical, across the entire 24-inch berth of the shared center seat and into my this-is-clearly-my-seat-now area. Yeah, fuck me for tittering, I should be arrested. And THEN, and this is my personal favorite, you refused to get out of your seat to let me pass by to use the bathroom, forcing me to cram my ass in your face while passing. Seriously, you could have at least slipped a dollar in my g-string for that kind of move*. Were I a woman of a lesser caliber, I would have farted in your face. Come to think of it, I wish it had occurred to me at the time. But I reluctantly chalked it up to your apparent lack of a keen grasp on the English language. Into this category I also lumped the fact that you did not stow your personal belongings as the flight attendants insisted (and I must say at this point I actively willed your laptop to fly off the seat during the incredibly turbulent landing - and it almost did, several times, but it never quite succeeded – was karma on vacation?). But then, as we were shuffling to get out of our seats, several people asked you to help them get their bags - and though surly and pissy as ever, you obliged. But I studied you carefully during these interactions - and noticed that these were not simple, basic, pointing requests. They were complicated sentences with multiple clauses, highly descriptive adjectives, and many unusual and/or challenging verbs, prepositions and nouns, such as "Could you please hand me the navy coat that is wedged in to the left of the green suitcases in the far left corner... yes, that one, thank you!" and "Sir, would you please hand me the red bag - no, the larger of the two, with the pom-poms, no, the one on the right, yes, thank you so much". Now, to give you the benefit of the doubt, it could simply be the case that you are a beginning student of English and you just finished the chapter on colors. I myself have studied, let's see, six foreign languages, and they all teach you the colors somewhere near the beginning in one fell swoop, right after the chapter on "objects in the classroom" and before the one about all the various professions in today's modern world. (Well, all except Latin - they just jump right into who's slain which mortal in the name of Zeus and whatnot). So maybe that's the case - you just have a really really keen grasp of English when it comes to colors and basic requests, but not so much with the "I'm so sorry to have to wake you, but could I please exit to use the restroom", "Would you like to switch seats", or "Did you know that you are the most insufferable sexist pigfaced jackass I have ever had the displeasure of encountering?". Maybe that's it. You know, I'm a certified ESL instructor; I'd be happy to give you a hand with that if we ever cross paths again in the hopes of teaching you some BASIC FUCKING DECENCY skills as well, for the low price of FREE, in the interest of benefitting anyone who ever has to interact with you, ever, ever again. So, if you read this, drop me a line. Jackass. *Just kidding - who flies cross-country in a g-string? I mean, seriously. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-20T11:11:24-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/119506393.html To Mr. Aisle-Seat Jackass text To the person at the place wearing the clothes http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/118195065.html You're that person. We first bumped into each other at that place, and you were wearing your clothes. I was wearing mine. Our eyes locked just for a moment, or maybe they didn't. Come to think of it, maybe you were looking at the person behind me. Or maybe you have a "lazy eye" and it just looked like you were looking at me. But I choose to believe you were looking at me. No, not "looking" -- gazing. Wait, not "gazing" -- "gazing fondly". I think we could both feel we have a connection, something magical; I only hope it's with each other. You are so attractive, given your height and weight and personality. And, as you saw, I have often been referred to as "passable", even by others. Anyways, even though I'm married, you're the one for me. Call me. Let's have sex. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-14T12:27:53-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/118195065.html To the person at the place wearing the clothes text I'll Cook and Fuck, Just Do My Dishes - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/117544123.html I love to cook, but lately, I have not been doing it nearly as frequently as I should. I live by myself, and cooking for one and then having to clean the goddamned mess seems like a total hassle. That said, if you promise to be a regular fuck buddy, then I'll guarantee satisfying you in more than one way. I've been told that I'm a great cook and a great fuck. I'm a vegetarian with a bald pussy. Doesn't cunnilingus on me sound fun? Now here is the deal. You must do my dishes, and I am very particular about how clean they must be. I really hate doing them, but when I do, they are squeaky clean (you should be able to get that squeak when your fingers rub against my tupperware), so you best be able to handle that. After that, I'll happily ride the shit out of you or let you fuck me from behind. Really, all positions are open to debate. I can handle a few grammatical errors in an email, but if you come off as sounding as though you cannot write a coherent sentence, it's a total turnoff. As for hygiene, I do not need someone who has a major case of OCD, but guys, let's be honest. You need to bathe more frequently than women do, and if you do not maintain a regimen of bathing, brushing and flossing your teeth, and wiping your ass, can I truly trust you to wash my dishes? I would insist on seeing tasteful photos of you, and I'll enjoy throwing your dick shot photos into my new shredder and then into my trash folder. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-12T01:02:00-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/117544123.html I'll Cook and Fuck, Just Do My Dishes - w4m text RAVE You With Your Daughter - At Albertsons http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/111099898.html I saw you, standing in line. I was standing one line over and 5 people back just "people watching", when you caught my eye. You were wearing a simple business attire type of outfit. Tans, browns, matching shoes (complete with some type of gum from a child). You had a full cart - and one little girl. You were heavy set - about 40-45. You had a basic haircut and tasteful makeup. You wore no wedding ring. I can't imagine for the life of me...why. Do you know you are my hero? Do you know that even in your hurry to get through line, home to make dinner, wash clothes, pay bills, call YOUR mom, and hunt down lunch money for your daughter - that I found you to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen? Did you know that you touched everyone around you? Did you know that your compassion humbled me? Your child was antsy and beginning to whine. You were doing your best to be patient. Your daughter grabbed candy off the shelf for the fifth time and you initially flashed angry. Then, your eyes softened and you hugged her instead. The look she gave you (which you did NOT/could not see)shouted volumes about who YOU really are. That ONE act of compassion towards your child changed me. You gave me hope. You made me smile and brought a tear to my eye. Just 1 isle over from you, another mom was impatient, angry and choose to ignore HER child who was behaving much like your own. She shut out her irritations-but it was YOU who changed the world. Not her. You. Thank you lovely lady. I don't know your name, or where you live - but I will never forget your face, and the love you showed on it for your little girl. Your daughters face glowed and in that one instant, she showed us all who the hero of the day was. It was you. Just one harried mom in a sea of frustrations (I saw your car too - it's a beater), trying to get thru all of this. You taught me that in a sea of chaos, there are still angels (dressed as average, middle aged women) who can change the world. Thank you !! webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-11-14T07:40:55-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/111099898.html RAVE You With Your Daughter - At Albertsons text Planning to pillage? You'll need one of these! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/110802756.html The vikings from the Capitol One commercials may be running out of work, but that doesn't mean you can't pillage the next city over. (We suggest Redmond.) Today only, we're giving away one very special viking hat. Ideal for the modern pillager, it is constructed from lightweight silver and gold plastic. Complete with faux gold horns and faux gold rope detailing, it makes the statement, "I have come for your grog and your goats." As it was never worn into battle, the hat is in mint condition, free of blood and dents. It is "one size fits most," and has ritual phrases impressed on the inside of the hat. They read, "CAUTION This is a toy not to be used as a safety helmet. Made in China. WARNING! This is a toy. Does not provide protection." Lo, be ye warned. Available for pick up until 6 PM today. No holds. May your pillage be plentiful and your beer in Ballard be tasty. <img src=110802756.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-11-12T14:46:11-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/110802756.html Planning to pillage? You'll need one of these! text #1 or #2? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/109152735.html To the silver-haired queen who lives next door to me, Having lived in Queen Anne for a few years, my dog has established a certain ritual to her mornings. It’s a pee in the rocks first, then a long walk before she drops the deuce. At which point, being the responsible pet owner that I am, I tag it and bag it. A couple years ago I was out walking my dog for her morning constitutional when we met. You spied the two of us from your window. When you saw her squat down to relieve herself and that action was not followed by me immediately bending down to pick anything up, being the good citizen you were, you decided to open your window to yell, “You should be ashamed!!" You were four floors up. From four stories up, a female dog taking a leak could easily look like she was taking a dump. I tried explaining that, but you kept with your yelling until finally, out of ideas, I suggested that you’d be better off closing the window and shutting the hell up. It was early, I was tired, and being a nervous guy around women, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. That was two years ago and I never saw you again. You lived in a retirement home and it was always sad to see a fire engine pull up and paramedics rush in, only to walk out slowly twenty minutes later. I figured you had moved on to the place where all responsible retirees go when they themselves are tagged and bagged. Then one fine early morning last week, I was out walking my dog again. First to the rocks…where I heard that unmistakable growl and war cry, “You should be ashamed!” Surprised and elated, I looked up hoping to see your grey head and tightened fist waving around in righteous indignation. You didn’t disappoint. We went back and forth, our old dance renewed. You made some good points (I saw her poop!!!) and I think my retorts were also strong (most bitches squat when they pee!), but really I was just happy to see you again. So when I shared my surprise that you were still alive and suggested that you should get back to your television before you missed something good, I meant it in a really good way. Cup of coffee sometime? <img src=109152735.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-11-05T17:05:54-08:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/109152735.html #1 or #2? text Tips for Selling Your Used Furniture on Craiglist http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/101886407.html If you have to put “Like New” in quotations, it is not like new. Don’t bother. Just say how old it is and get on with it. Nothing is stupider than seeing the same fucking plaid couch posted day after day with the subject heading screaming “BEAUTIFUL Couch GREAT CONDITION STUNNING”. First, this isn’t eBay, so stop posting as though you’re a toothless mouth-breather who’s barefoot and pregnant in Appalachia, selling your J.C. Penney-purchased promise ring with a 0.15 carat diamond on a used Mac connected through a modem. Second, plaid is not stunning, and will not be again for probably another 15 years. Any furniture set that looks distinctly like it was made after 1970 is not “vintage.” Don’t fool yourself. Those big, watercolor-like splotchy fan patterns popular in 1980 have yet to make a comeback. Ditto smoked glass with those gold splatters and any veneer furniture with plastic inlays make to look like brass. Keep in mind that, when selling furniture, you are selling something that you slept on, and probably had sex on at least twice. People aren’t buying your furniture because they want a piece of your history or the imprint of your naked buttocks; they are buying it because they can’t afford to go to Ethan Allen. The fact that your skins cells (and god knows what else) have been settling into the cushions for YEARS is not a strong selling point, but many of us are too poor to object. Just remember this when pricing your sofa. Furniture, like cars, loses value fast. If you paid $3000 for a furniture set (sofa, chair, ottoman, and side table) 10 years ago, today it is worth about $150, if it’s in great condition. IKEA furniture loses value faster than any other kind of furniture in the world. The second you take that KIPPLAN sofa off the IKEA lot, it’s worth half of what it was, and it steadily depreciates after that until, about 5 years later, it's worth negative amounts of dollars. Do not try to sell it a year later for $20 off of the original price, even if you don’t have a cat and didn't smoke a pack a day sitting in your KIPPLAN. Leather sofas are the only ones that retaim value, but only certain sofas, and even then, it should never sell for more than half of what you paid for it. So your cushion has a “stain” that “might come out” if “it gets washed”? Then fucking wash it, you asstard! Spray on a little Oxyclean and toss the goddamn slip cover in the washer! Is that difficult for you? Too much trouble? If it is, knock another $50 off the price. A stained sofa is 8 millions times less appealing than a clean one. I don’t care if you think it’s just Diet Coke – clean it the fuck up before you try to sell. Post a pic and measurements. Don't expect anyone to want to buy something that they can't see. If you’ve had to post your sofa more than three times, either you are doing something wrong, or nobody likes you. Try lowering the price, getting a better picture (don’t put the sofa on the front lawn for the picture, butthead, that is so ghetto, and who knows how long it’s been sitting there?), or simply acknowledge that it ain’t great. There’s something about Seattle that makes people think that mediocrity is not only worthwhile but valuable. An old couch is an old couch. If you treasure it so much that you have to charge $600 to part with it, maybe you should just keep it. And this is for ANY category, not just furniture: the SECOND someone buys your item, take the goddamned ad down. This is not difficult. Do not go back into the ad and edit it to read "STUNNING PLAID SOFA WITH INLAID PLASTIC BRASS SOLD SOLD TODAY THANKS EVERYONE FOR YOUR INQUIRIES". Email the people who have emailed you about the sofa and tell them it sold. Thank them for their time and wish them luck. Just don't alter your fucking ad. Why, asks you, the mouth-breather? Well, because, the people who already emailed you aren't checking your ad like some kind of stock ticker to see what the status is. The only ones who are going to see the ad are the next round of people who are looking for a stunning plaid sofa. When they come across your ad, they are going to think,"Ooh, great, some jackass just had to let me know that I missed a chance at his used furniture". And then they will wish horrible things upon you, and eventually these things will come true. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-10-04T13:39:49-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/101886407.html Tips for Selling Your Used Furniture on Craiglist text Missed connection with a pair of curtains http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/100082104.html To my dear next-door neighbor, I cannot urge you strongly enough to invest in some curtains for your basement windows. I realize that my (female) roommates and I just moved in recently to the house next to you, and that the prior (male) tenants may not have been particularly bothered by your lack of subterranean window coverings. I realize, too, that during most of the week this is a non-issue, as your garbage cans nicely obscure the (ahem) view into your basement. However: please bear in mind that Friday is garbage day, and thus those delightfully opaque receptacles must be removed and placed out on the street for our friendly neighborhood sanitization expert to conduct his business with, thus rendering the view from the window above our kitchen sink with a clear shot into your basement, where I can only assume you keep your washer and dryer. Now, on the subject of nudity, I am no prude. I actually grew up in something of a nudist colony myself. I regularly frequent a nude hot springs resort with my family. Both sides of my clan, the uptight Brits along with the proper Southerners, are uncharacteristically fanatical about nudity. We're talking, to the point of probably freaking out some family therapist folks, but hey, we are what we are. And were I not now living with two other women and one canine in a frigidly cold house (note to roomies - can we fix the leak in the oil main soon so we can turn on the heat?), I just might be tempted to wander around my house doing whatever odd housework and chores in the buff. That is, WERE IT NOT FOR THE GLARING ABSENCE OF CURTAINS ON MOST OF OUR WINDOWS. My point being, far be it from me to question the idea of doing housework in the buff - but please, good neighbor, DO keep the curtain issue in mind. See, normally I wouldn't even care if I'd happened upon a view of a nekkid neighbor. I'd be like, meh, it's all good, I like to be nekkid too, I get it, and I often need to do laundry in my basement too, and I often do it at weird hours when everyone else in the house is asleep too - but see, here's the thing. Your nekkidness affects those around you, and you therefore have a responsibility to both your family and your community at large to keep your nekkidness in check. And I must bring to your attention, dear neighbor, that last Friday morning your nekkidness was anything but in check. I in no way meant to witness what I did. I also in no way meant to lean over to get a better view. That was a terrible horrible subconscious no good very bad thing I did. It was entirely reflexive. I didn’t mean to do it. I couldn’t help myself. For you see, dear neighbor, you are HOT. And I don't mean like, oh, that guy is mildly attractive hot. I realize you are not from this country and therefore may be unfamiliar with this term, but 'round these parts to us 20-something ladies, you are what is known as a D.I.L.F. This is an extreme and dangerous variety of hotness that must be treated with utmost caution and respect. You are handsome, tall, sexy, masculine, you smell good, your voice is deep and sexy, you're clearly a great dad and husband - and thanks to last Friday's encounter, I know also know you to be of a chiseled and muscular physique and fairly well-endowed to boot. (I'm sorry I looked; I'm sorry). If all Canadians looked like you, you’d never see me on this side of the border again, eh? You have a lovely wife who is very friendly and chatty with me, and two angelic kids whose adorable conversations I enjoy every time I see them. I will buy Girl Scout cookies from them when they grow older (you may not catch this reference either, but trust me, you'll thank me when the time comes). I will baby-sit the next time your wife asks, as she has hinted at such many times. I see your adorable freaking family almost every time I enter or exit my house. Please understand, good neighbor, I cannot maintain a friendly and cordial, nay, NEIGHBORLY, attitude, if you insist on performing your perfunctory household chores in the buff, when it's dark out and with a light on inside your basement, with no curtains, when it is garbage day. The ramifications of your continued nekkidness sans curtainry are copious. For the love of God, I don't trust myself not to lurk by my kitchen sink and wait to catch a glimpse of your hot nekkid ass every goddamn Friday morning until I'm eventually discovered and evicted for sexual harrassment. I plan on residing in this house for at least the next 7-8 years, or however long it takes me to apply to, become accepted at, and finish the work of, my intended graduate degree (think about it - that's a LOT of Girl Scout cookies and easy-access baby-sitting over the next several years). If you continue to flaunt your hot nekkid body in front of my kitchen window on a weekly basis, I will never again be able to borrow your power drill or babysit or buy cookies or even say a friendly hello without blushing, because I saw you nekkid and I liked it. I already feel hideously embarrassed, ashamed, and still somehow turned on by the events of last Friday morning. I do not wish to be a homewrecker (or wannabe homewrecker, as you two seem to be a sincerely adorable and well-matched couple) but I have serious concerns about my own ability to exercise restraint, due to your aforementioned D.I.L.F. status. As it is I've blushed profusely every time I've seen you since the "encounter" - and I am NOT a blusher. Eventually I’m going to need to borrow some other stupid shit from your household (btw thanks for the cookie sheets, broom, drill, whatever else you’ve loaned us – you guys really made moving in much easier) and I’d like to be able to do it without collapsing in a blushing gibberish-spewing pile of giggles like some 13-year-old girl at an N’Sync concert (don’t ask; you’re lucky if you don’t catch this cultural reference either, trust me). For the love of God, I’m a grown woman and I’d like to be able to continue acting as such. So please understand, I like your wife and kids and I like my house and I like not being in jail for attempted sexual assault. Buy some damn curtains for your basement windows already - if you don't then I will, and judging from the furnishings and decorations in your house that I can see from my other windows, you have more money and possibly better taste than I do, so you might want to seriously consider your options here. You have until October fifteenth. Regards, Your Next Door Neighbor (still blushing) webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-26T11:04:37-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/100082104.html Missed connection with a pair of curtains text To the people at my gym http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/99473073.html To Hollywood Lifter: As you lift, you fill the gym with your grunts, groans and sounds that defy description. You like the attention. Yes, you have some big muscles. But you also have a pony tail and goatee and that makes you ridiculous. You think it makes you look like a badass. You're half right. To Shower Honker: What you do in your own shower is your own business. But when you share the shower room with other people, most of us would appreciate you NOT covering the floor with your snot rockets. I simply don't have faith that your nasal cannons can aim well enough to hit the drain with any sort of consistency. To Bearded Guy with Two Hot Girls: You kick ass and I want to know your story. Who are those girls? Are you their trainer? Are they your girlfriends? Is it your girlfriend and her friend? Her sister? Her roommate? Can I have one? You, sir, are an inspiration. To Gay Asian Guy: You've dropped some weight and toned up quite a bit since you started at the gym and you are to be congratulated for that. Congratulations. Now stop wearing those shirts that say "bitch" and "twink." I have no problem with gay people. God bless you and yours. But about the last thing I want to see whilst weakly attempting to incline chest press is one of your less-than-clever shirts declaring your sexuality as you squat in front of me. To Elijah Wood: You look just like him. Now change your nasty shirt, Frodo. But I do like your little tattoo and the band it represents. Seriously, a band tattoo? To each his own, I guess. To Intense Blonde Girl: You really don't fuck around. You lift crazy weights considering how thin you are. Now I'm just throwing out ideas here, but maybe we could go out for coffee sometime and get married. Just a thought. To Skinny Old Guy: You're pretty cool. I like you. That's why I'm going to recommend that you try pushing less weight. You're strong for your size, but I'm surprised you're still alive and functioning with the way you overload the machines and struggle mightily with the weights. Slow and steady wins the race. Plus, I don't want to have to pick your torn-off limbs up off the floor for you. To Braces Guy: I know what you do with the weights before you leave a machine. Who are you trying to impress? Maybe I shouldn't care so much about this, but I hate to see you waste your effort trying to convince the rest of us of how strong you are. God loves all his children equally...Except liars, Braces Guy. Except liars. To Hardcore Trainer: I don't care if you WERE a Navy Seal; I swear to god, if you yell out "You da man!" to a client one more time, I'm going to fill out a comment card with SO many negative comments regarding your abilities, it'll make your head spin. And if you weren't roughly 76 times my size, I'd cockpunch you. Every time I hear you yell out that catch-phrase from the 90s, I want to walk up to you and say, "No, sir...YOU da man!" To Walking Pharmacy: I've never seen someone carry that many juices, powders and pills around with them. You're like a walking GNC. Apparently they work because you're built like Stallone (circa 1985), but your face looks just like Matt Stone, glasses and all. I'm really tempted to come up to you and ask you to do the Kyle Broslofski voice, but I'm afraid you'd eat my head for protein. Anyway, you guys are actually great and you make each and every evening at the gym much more interesting and entertaining. Our quirks make us who we are and I wouldn't change any of you. Except for you, Mr. Shower Honker. That's just gross. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-23T09:39:36-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/99473073.html To the people at my gym text Bus Boyfriend, I want to smell you again. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/97992671.html This was months ago. April, maybe May. We only rode the bus together three times, only two times sitting together. The second I saw you, I smiled brightly, because you looked so nice. You were getting on the number 11 at the Lake Washington bus stop, at 9:35 on a Wednesday, heading downtown. You were one of the few people getting on the bus who had not immediately put out a cigarette or a crack pipe. You looked like the average super-casual tech worker or student. You saw me smiling at you, and your face sort of lit up. You had a soul-patch-triangle-hairy-thing under your bottom lip, which I will normally not tolerate on white men, but you made it work. You wore drab grayish-blue clothes that were slightly baggy. I had chin-length brown hair and cute sunglasses. I was holding a cup of coffee that, true to Starbucks tradition, kept spouting forth like a caffeinated geyser from the tiny sippy hole in the top, scalding my hands as I attempted in vain to dry off with a flimsy recycled paper napkin. You sat next to me. There was genuine sexual tension, which is rare in Seattle, and even rarer on the bus. You smelled REALLY, REALLY good. I didn't make eye contact, although I took off my sunglasses so that you wouldn't think I looked like a spy. I might have turned down my Shuffle so you wouldn't know that I was listening to Mr. Mister. I didn't make conversation. I just smelled you the whole way downtown. What was that glorious smell? It wasn't colonge. I have bought colonge for men before, and they don't make men's cologne that smells like this. Was it soap? Laundry detergent? A particularly wonderful brand of fabric softener and/or dryer sheet? I have searched in vain for the scent since meeting you. I want to douse the rest of the bus riders with it. Hell, I'd spray it all over my Shih Tzu if I could distill it. It was sweet, soft, but not girly. It was clean but not chlorine-y. The next Wednesday, you got on the bus, and you sat next to me. Deliberately. There were dozens of empty seats on the bus, but you chose to sit down next to me. I blushed. You blushed. You smelled even better. You took out a book and pretended to read it. That book everyone is reading, The Kite Flyer or the Flying Kite or something by someone with an Iranian/Afghani/Middle Eastern name. Khaled. Ahmed. Whatever. I nervously asked you about the book. I think I made a really stupid comment about how I can't read on the bus because I get car sick. This must have turned you on. You tried to explain the plot of the book, and you spoke very slowly and not particularly lucidly, in direct contrast to my high-pitched but enunciated prattling. It was clear, probably to both of us, but certainly to me, that we were not romantically suited for each other. Nor was there any intellectual chemistry. It was clear as crystal. I had at the time, and still have to this day, a boyfriend that I really love. Chances are, you have a girlfriend who rocks your world. I didn't want to do anything to mess that up. I actually went home and told my boyfriend about you. I called you my Bus Boyfriend. I normally don't tell my boyfriend about random men who want to hit on me but who, true to the Seattle way of life, don't bother. But I told him about you because I wanted him to be aware that other, completely random men occasionally want to be physically close to me, because this is something that even jealous boyfriends are often prone to forgetting. You probably know, Bus Boyfriend, what it's like when you're with a girl for a couple years. If you know she's faithful, you start thinking, "Hey, I'm the only one who has access to this poon..." Then you start thinking, "Hey, no one else really thinks about this woman but me." My boyfriend took notice when I told him about you; he felt the slight threat that was implicit in our public transportation liaisons, as incredibly platonic as they may have been. He fucked me really hard for a couple of weeks, realizing that he was damn fortunate to have access to this poon. The last Wednesday I saw you, I noticed you too late. It was a bad morning for me, Bus Boyfriend. I arrived at the bus stop before having that necessary first cup of coffee. The weather was foggy. So was my brain. You got on the bus, and chances are you looked to see if our eyes would meet, because I felt a pair of eyes burning a whole in the side of my face. By the time I was jolted out of my reverie by your smell wafting by, you had passed by and had seated yourself farther back. For one entire stop I contemplated getting up and sitting next to you. Then a gigantic man with an apparent allergy to soap wedged me in against the window, and it was all I could do to keep from straining my neck while looking back at you and hoping that you would at least get up and stand behind me, so I could smell something besides the 300-pound armpit pushing up against my cheek. Then, after that, nothing. I never saw you on the bus again. I never got to inhale your pleasant scent again (Tide? Cheer? Bounce? Something from Trader Joe's?). I smelled a variety of other, less desirable scents that other passengers had coated themselves in - urine, B.O., cigar smoke, booze-breath, copious amounts of Chanel 5 - sometimes individuallly, occasionally all at once. Do you KNOW how many people are drunk when they get on the bus, Bus Boyfriend? On the number 11 through downtown Seattle, 10% of the passengers are intoxicated, and they smell like it. And they sit next to me, Bus Boyfriend. Like you used to sit, only significanly closer and with more chutzpah and less shame. Besides drunks, I have had the honor of sitting next to bitchy little teenage gay guys who lisp loudly into their cell phones. Old ladies with whooping cough. Girls who can be no older than 12, dressed like complete mini-whores, who put their Vans-clad feet up on the back of the seat in front of them. Children whose faces are completely obscured by snot. Young white men who think they are big black men, and attempt to speak "jive" ("Yo, yo, yo, man - that mah SHIT!"). iPod-wearing business men with long, long legs and a clear disgust for the fact that I have the nerve to take up exactly 50% of the bench seating. Bus Boyfriend, where have you gone? Please return to remove me from this misery! I don't want you sexually. Hell, I don't even want to talk to you - you can't even discuss the main storyline of a popular novel and you probably don't want to know any more detail about my inner ear and motion sickness. I just want to feel that odd tension again. And I want to smell you. You were my bus sachet, my ego-boosting little bowl of potpourri. Please come back. When you were around, no crackhead could touch me. Due to the ever-so-slight threat that your presence created, my boyfriend nailed me more often and more sincerely than any other time. You made transportation tolerable, you improved my love life. If you got a job on the East Side, I forgive you. If you graduated from the UW, I congratulate you. But if you bought a car and now drive yourself downtown, shame on you! Shame! Kyrie Eleison down the road that I must travel. Especially on the bus. Without my Bus Boyfriend. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-16T13:04:05-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/97992671.html Bus Boyfriend, I want to smell you again. text To the crack ho in my neighborhood http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/94366690.html My partner and I have seen and heard you peddling your ass/mouth/pussy/whatever for a rock or two before. I've actually heard the phrase "it'll cost you" from your mouth more than once. I was walking home from the dentist today, and I made the mistake of not watching where I was going. I have Tetris on my cell phone, and addiction is an ugly thing. Well...you know that already, don't you? See, if I had seen you coming, I would've crossed the street. So, distracted my the pretty colors on my phone, and excited that I FINALLY got the puzzle piece I wanted, I was not prepared for the sound of your voice. "Hey, you holding?" Let me get something straight. I may live in this neighborhood, but I don't necessarily know the street lingo. If it wasn't mentioned in a 50 Cent song I was FORCED to listen to on the boom-boom-boom radio cruising down the street, I don't know it. I listen to country music, for god's sake! I answered you; you must've heard the terror in my voice "holding what?" Then it happened. I must've amused you. You opened your mouth to laugh, and I smelled the stank/rank/skank breath as it was unleashed upon me. What was that, three day old jizz? Granted, I'm a butch dyke, so it's been a LONG time since I gave a blowjob, but I distinctly remember brushing my teeth afterward. Then you touched me on my arm. Don't do that again. EVER. You told me how funny you thought that was. No ma'am, there is NOTHING funny about that entire situation. I'm going to wash my arm with soap and chlorox, and I may take antibiotics just in case. Not funny at all. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-08-30T11:21:25-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/94366690.html To the crack ho in my neighborhood text You: Cute Guy, mid 30s, robbing me... - m4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/94160012.html You: Cute Guy, mid 30s, wearing a black wool cap, dark wool shirt and black slacks, nicely dressed. Me: 26, in decent shape, jeans and dress shirt, walking through downtown in the early evening last night. Remember? You waled up the street, and we made eye contact... as we got closer and closer my heart was fluttering, it one of those situations where I couldn't decide who makes the first move. I decided it would be me, but you jumped in right as I was about to speak. "Hey." "Hey." "Come With Me..." "Ok..." And at this, we duck away into the alley behind the Terryaki place and I think to myself "Oh yes. Strange sex in an alley with a man who's name I'll never know." I was hard immediately. "Don't fucking move, faggot. Give me your wallet." --- The rest is predictable. Terror, crying, shame, etc. Thank you Mr. Black Clothes, for taking me on an emotional rollercoaster and taking my $65 and my watch. Enjoy the crack or whatever else you'll do. Let's do it again sometime, I'll bring the gun. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-08-29T12:54:29-07:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/94160012.html You: Cute Guy, mid 30s, robbing me... - m4m text