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 2008-02-29T08:07:11-06:00 2 daily Mustang Wheels http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/590888944.html Mustang 4 lug FR500 & Ponys for sale - $1 (Tomball) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply to: sale-590608257@craigslist.org Date: 2008-02-28, 10:08PM CST I have a set of FR500 for a fox body mustang and I'm not sure what they go for? So I guess I'll take $200.00 I also have what I was told are ponys $100.00 I need this stuff out of my bedroom, I kicked out my boyfriend after he got me and my mom drunk and had sex with us both. And now both of us are pregnant! We know who the babys daddy is. make this stuff go... or if you are looking for a girlfriend I may give them to you if we hook up. Pam Location: Tomball   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: tomball <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-02-29T08:07:11-06:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/590888944.html Mustang Wheels text To you, super-cute guy that did not have sex with me - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/508198133.html Oh, super-cute guy. I was so thrilled when you text messaged me yesterday asking what I was doing that evening. Even more thrilled that I managed to work myself free of every single obligation I had last night in order to make my lie of being available true. However, due to a somewhat slutty stage I've been going through recently (I don't mean mega slutty...just a tiny bit slutty...I like sex, don't judge me) I wanted to make absolutely sure that I did not sleep with you last night. Why, you ask? Because I actually like you and I know that when you're a woman, sleeping with a guy on the first or second date is like putting out a contract hit on your potential relationship. Plus, it's kind of slutty and while I'm not immune to the occasional one night stand (see statement above), it's not something I like to do on a regular basis. In any case, I informed you that I would call you later that night after I had dinner with my family (Ok, really I was at home watching the finale of America's Next Top Model, but you, super-cute guy and potential boyfriend could NOT know that). After "dinner" was over, I gave you a call and attempted to convince you to meet me somewhere. Much to my horror, you were not having it. You wanted to come over to my house. I entered panic mode. Why? Several reasons. One being that my house was a cesspool of disease and filth. I've been really sick for the last few weeks and have had absolutely zero motivation to clean up after myself and as a result, my whole house reeks of Vicks and old pizza. Normally, I am a perfectly clean person but not these past two weeks. If you were anyone else, super-cute guy...I may not have cared, but you are too good for my illness ridden haven of disgust. This would not do. Also, I knew that if you came over to my house there was very little chance I would not sleep with you. Don't judge me for this because you, super-cute guy are indeed super-cute. Not just in the looks department, but personality-wise as well. You stimulate me intellectually and make me laugh. You are charming in the best kind of way and unless we were in a public place, I was going to have a very hard time not ripping your clothes off. However, when I realized that you were set in your decision I had to cave. After all, I had canceled a jam session with my band, babysitting for my brother, watching project runway with a carton of pistachio ice cream and a number of other equally important tasks just to hang out with you. I had also already done my makeup and hair and I'm not one to waste perfectly good foundation. So I told you, super-cute guy that you were welcome to come by. You said you would. Fortunately, you were FAR away and it was going to take you over an hour. After hanging up with you, I flew around like a mad woman cleaning up kleenex, vicks vapor rub spilled on the coffee table, thousands of Dr. Pepper cans and wine glasses, pizza crusts and beer bottles. I then noticed that it looked like Saks 5th Ave. had vomited clothes all over my house. I even found clothes in the guest bathroom and the kitchen. I shoved all of them in my closet, febreezed the living crap out of everything and my house took on a much more respectable air. I still had 30 minutes or so, so I catapulted myself into the bathtub to shave my legs and erm....more intimate area. I hadn't done this before because I intended to meet you in a public place and NOT have sex with you, but I figured that my resolve was basically gone at this point so I might as well be hairless and smell nice. Especially since I knew I was never going to be graced with the presence of you, super-cute guy ever again. When you arrived, you were adorable. You didn't even try to kiss me for two hours, but instead, you asked me questions about my job and my family. You showed me pictures of your gorgeous little boy. We talked about hunting. Told some innapropriate jokes. You told me what a good time you were having and that you liked me. In short, you were super-cute (as we have already established). But as the night wore on, super-cute turned into super-sexy as you went in for the kill. I will admit: You have some good moves. Really good. I won't go into detail for obvious reasons, but just know that you had me in the palm of your hand. There was a point during our little make-out session where I really would have done absolutely anything you asked of me. But what makes you really cute, super-cute guy is that you stopped at second base at basically told me that you would like to save some fun for next time. *Sigh of relief* Don't get me wrong, it's not that I didn't want to have sex with you...I REALLY did. But I know I would regret it right this second if we had, so I appreciate so much that you were nice enough to release me from your seductive hold of super-cuteness long enough for me to catch my breath and recalibrate. I will say, however: I haven't been that turned on by anyone in a long time. If "Next time" isn't soon, I might end up hating you. Just saying. Thanks again, super-cute guy. You get a second date gold star. *EDIT* To you, mildly-cute friend of super-cute guy: Do not be pissed off that I didn't go out with you. I truthfully have no idea how you ended up with my number the night I met you and your super-cute friend. I guess you couldn't tell that I only had eyes for him. I know that you have been text messaging me for almost a week asking me to hang out, and I may have accepted your offer had it ever been at a time well before one in the morning. So please do not blame me from accepting a date from your super-cute friend (who you should totally take lessons from, by the way). He extended an invitation at about 4 in the afternoon as oppose to your middle of the freaking night. No offense (because you are indeed, mildly-cute), but any guy that text messages me at one a.m. to hang out is probably not one that I would consider dating. Thanks for understanding :-)  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: that room you liked so much <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-12-13T12:50:46-06:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/508198133.html To you, super-cute guy that did not have sex with me - w4m text Dropping Off Kids At School..... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/456128552.html You would think most of what I have to say would be self-evident behavior for the drop off line at school, but sadly, it seems not. What the hell are you people thinking? First, of course,...people, get off your fucking cell phones! How many times do people have to be told this? Youre in line for 2 minutes (unless there is another inconsiderate fuck like you in the line), dont you think the high profile world issues you face on a daily basis could wait until you drive off? Pull forward fucktard! Second, coffee...you prepping your $6.50 cup cream-mocha-latté-whateverthefuckitis is not an acceptable reason for holding the rest of us up. If you just have to mix your lead filled package of Chinese slave labor flavoring before heading off to your stressful day, could you drop your child off, pull to the side, and do it out of the flow of traffic? Pull forward fucktard! Third, whatever the hell it is you are digging for in your console. Why do you stare at the line, eyes fixed forward, waiting...waiting...waiting...and then just seconds before its time to pull forward, you pull your hands away from the wheel, flip open your console, and start digging for...?...what? What the hell are you digging for? You never find it! The statistical odds of finding anything in your console, while waiting in line to drop off you child, is nill. You have proven time and time again. Its not there. Its never there. Pull forward fucktard! Next, dressing your kid in the car. If you dont have your child dressed by the time you arrive at the drop off line, then you are not ready to get in the drop off line. Most of us dress our kids at homeI know, weird concept! If your kid is late, your kid is late...and dressing him or her in front of the school, in line, holding the rest of us up, does not somehow magically stop the clock and make it all OK. I know, I know, It takes a village, but the village is stacking up behind you, and we really wish you would pull forward fucktard! OK, Snoop-Dog...yes, you driving the 1987 Corolla with the snap-on hubcap spinners and the bumper sticker that says My other car is Tupac, stop getting out of your car each day, defiantly starring at the line waiting behind you, and doing that fucking swagger where you hold your balls with one hand and walk as s-l-o-w-a-s-f-u-c-k-i-n-g-p-o-s-s-i-b-l-e around to the other side of your car to let your kid out. There are two teachers and ten monitors there to make sure you kid gets out safely. If you just have to do this routine everyday, then move to the side, otherwise...pull forward fucktard! Slack-jawed people...I am pretty sure you cant read this, but hopefully a nose breather has seen it and passed it on to you...that big empty space in front of you...the big 5 car space between you and the lady up there on her cell phone...that is a space which your car and the 4 people behind you should be filling in. Those people up there with the safety vests, waving their arms, looking at you like you should close your mouth and step on the accelerator are giving you the universal signal to...pull forward fucktard! Last, the stay at home moms...do you have to talk to every other stay at home mother that you happen to see on school grounds? What the hell do you have to talk about each and every day? You just talked to her yesterday when you held us all up, what could possibly transpired in the last 24 hours that would require you to once again pull forward 5 feet, step on the brake, try to roll the window down, hit the locks, lock again, roll down the window, talk for-fucking-ever, and then roll your window up, pull forward another 5 feet, and repeat the whole process again? Maybe you could start a coffee clutch, a La Madelins For Moms, or some other type of morning meeting that would satisfy your craving for endless conversation, but somewhere other than in front of the other 20 cars trying to drop their kids off. Until you come up with a plan, could you please pull ALL the way forward fucktard!   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Houston <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-10-22T09:14:14-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/456128552.html Dropping Off Kids At School..... text Dear New Neighbor, Knock It Off! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/372670198.html Okay, so you're not bad on the eyes, but Lady, stop it. Stop cutting your grass every four days. Stop painting furniture in your driveway. Stop hanging plants and sweeping the sidewalk, stop trimming the bushes, stop repairing your fence slats (I hate to sound sexist, but shouldn't you call a guy or something to do that for you?) and for the love of God, please don't ever let me see you dipping your dog between rainstorms again. More to the point, quit doing these things across the street from my house where my wife can see you! You have been here one week. Seven days. Each day that you're out there, edging your driveway with a steak knife because, "it just looks so much neater than using the edger," the glimmer in my wife's eye loses a bit of its sheen when she looks at our edges, then her gaze rests upon me. ME. Like I've done something to disappoint her. Like suddenly, I don't quite measure up. Like my dog smells because he hasn't been dipped since last Christmas. Lady, knock it off! You're totally messing up my mojo! Weekends are for watching sporting events on TV. In the evening, I want to get home, eat dinner, and relax. What kind of Yard Nazi gets off work, changes out of a dress and high heels, and cranks up the mower? The Astros were playing and you were mowing! Okay, I admit, it was hot watching you drill those picture frames in the driveway, because women with tools are just hot, but you're making me look and feel like a lazy little girl in front of my wife! And my dog! Okay, I know things could be worse. You could be a ghetto rat who can't wait to trash the yard, or someone with 16 relatives and toys scattered all over the street and driveway. You could build a meth lab or a dogfighting ring in the back, you could be one of those ladies who has a different guy over to the house every night, but no, your problem is that you're just TOO RESPECTABLE. Lady, I want to like you, and I probably will like you, and I really enjoy watching you fix things that need it, and you've made the property, which was empty for months, really come to life and look wonderful. But. Please. Stop. Ruining. Things. For. The. Lazy. You've totally blown my cover with my wife! I've worked for several years to get that woman to accept the bare minimum of effort from me, and you're making me have to get off my ass. Did you know, my wife actually ACCEPTED that I couldn't mow with all the rain, before you came along and did your yard? That's right, when it rained, I used to enjoy at least a five-day reprieve. Then you came along and did it between showers. Damn you and your hot little white shorts. By the way, I worry about you cutting the grass barefoot, but crap, I've got other worries. Like, how I'm going to pretend to my wife that you must be crazy or excessive and anal when you're really just doing what any new home buyer should do. How many times do I read CL and see rants from people who have trashy neighbors. I wouldn't trade you, no, and I realize this isn't a huge problem in the grand scheme of things, but damn. I wish the tidy do-it-yourselfer who just moved in would take a chill pill and a weekend off. Last time my wife got onto me about "we really need to clean OUR grill, too," and I said, "Well, honey, don't let her put you to shame, get on it!" guess who got in trouble. And guess who had to stand there with the scrubber and go over that nasty grill. Shit. Yeah you all can call me pussy-whipped, but fifteen years married and happy, so whatever floats your boat. I love my wife and wouldn't trade her, not even for Chick With Tools, but I wouldn't be a man if I didn't imagine my wife in those white shorts with a hammer tucked into her beltloops as she climbs that ladder, doing all the work...although I know it's never going to happen, don't deny a man his fantasy. Okay, and have I mentioned that cute chicks who know how to use power tools are HOT!  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: My Laz-E-Boy <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-07-12T21:46:21-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/372670198.html Dear New Neighbor, Knock It Off! text RAVE: My little doggie's finally getting a yard! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/359011832.html Hooray, little dog, you're about to be so happy! This week, we're putting all your toys in a box and taking you to our new house where there is a yard you can run all over and pee in every corner! Nobody else gets to pee there but you. No more dog park at the apartment complex. No more having to stop at every angle and re-pee all your hard work twice a day. When you piss on something, the sixteen other dogs who live in this apartment complex won't be behind you on the path, eradicating your signature. You won't have to hold a little back for the walk home, in case you missed a corner and some other dog's pee still stands that you have to eradicate with your own. You're going to own property, little dog! Every corner of the backyard will belong to you. Not only that, but speaking of the dog park. No longer will you have to come across a giant poop and spend twenty minutes trying to figure out whether the guy is friend or foe (it doesn't actually matter, you're going to piss on it anyway, but you have to do a thorough, CSI-worthy investigation, I understand). No, now any and all poop you find in our new backyard will be your own. On a personal note, unlike the doggie park at the apartment complex, being the one and only person to use the dookie bags to pick up after their dog won't feel like such an exercise in futility for me, anymore, so I'm looking forward to that. Hey, speaking of a dookie-free patch of grass, know how cool it is when I throw the ball down the hallway and you run and get it, and then don't want to give it back to me until I wrestle it out of your tiny little jaws of doom? Well, you haven't played the game until you've played it on soft, green grass, boy, so get ready for some good old-fashioned fresh air and sunshine. Bonus, we don't even have to quit playing at 8 pm so the kid upstairs can get some sleep. That's right, that little kid won't be there, so you won't have to stand at attention at the window and growl in case he decides to stop playing on the stairs and come ring the doorbell (He never has, and has no reason to, but you can't be too careful). I keep telling you he's just a little guy like you and he won't hurt anyone, but I know you can't be too vigilant when you're an apartment dog and so many people walk past your doorway. After all, your self-appointed job is to protect me to the death, and if the bad guys really do come to axe-murder me, they're going to have to deal with all 21 lbs. of your fury! Well, buddy, you can relax a little bit, and if anybody does come up and ring the doorbell at the new house, I want you to bark like crazy and let me know. If it's somebody I like, I can put you in the backyard and put the little gate up, and you can still keep me in sight at all times while you don't turn over-friendly and pester the guest! Yeah, no more dog crate when people come over. How cool is that? Not a bad rise in life at all, for a scruffy little guy who followed me home from the dumpster two years ago. From pauper to prince, rags to riches, you're a modern-day success story for stray dogs everywhere. I guess you lucked out that day that you fell in beside me and followed me to my door, but then again, so did I. Now we're land owners, you and I. Not bad at all, little dog! Man, you're asleep on my foot right now and you just don't know it yet, but we're finally getting you out of the apartments and into a house with a yard, and it's going to be great.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: houston <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-06-24T02:59:12-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/359011832.html RAVE: My little doggie's finally getting a yard! text 7 Habits of Highly Annoying M4W Posters on CL http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/313570430.html Post day after day with no response? Post but only get spammers and porn sites? Answer a post and never hear back? Frustrated, lonely, tired, married and wondering how hard is it to get a friggin handjob ferchrissakes? If you cant figure out whats going on, you might be guilty of one of the 7 Habits of Highly Annoying People on CL M4W. (Ladies, many of these could apply to your ads as well, I just am not familiar with them). Habit 1: Starting your post with a plaintive Are there any normal women/men/humanoids left? The answer, my friend, is a resounding NO . Maybe its because of global warming, or 8 years of Republicans, but all the normal folks moved to Canada or some shithole like that. So shut the fuck up and deal with the remaining dysfunctional misfits like the rest of us. Habit 2: Starting your ad by saying that youre heartbroken over an ex and go on to detail how she cheated on you lied to you broke your tender little loving heart etc and now you just want to find someone nice to replace THAT BITCH and to take your mind off her. Um, do I look like your fucking therapist? I didnt think so. Go out with your mates, get piss drunk, text the ex that she was a shitty lay and had a fat ass, and get over it like a man. Otherwise, Ill charge you 120/hr like my therapist does to listen to my bitching and moaning about my exes, and Ill still dump your sorry ass because whiny does not equal sexy. Habit 3: total,compleetlack Of anYpunctuashion skillz,,that makes, me, wonder if you are , a, Nigerians Scammer . OR YELLING ABOUT HOW SENSITIVE AND KIND YOU ARE AND HOW YOU WANT TO MARRY A NICE NORMAL GIRLWHY CANT YOU FIND ANYONE NORMAL HOW COME NOONE RESPONDS??!!! Ill tell you whyits because no one can understand a goddam word youre SHOUTING. Settle down, and remember, capitalization, periods, and the proper use of the comma are your friends. Habit 4: You say I promise you wont be disappointed. How the fuck do you know? What if I am looking for a 67 red headed trapeze artist who likes to shove popsicle sticks up his ass while yodeling? Every time someone has said you wont be disappointed, I inevitably am. Habit 5: You post the same, overly earnest, long winded ad EVERY DAY FOR MONTHS. Dude, you know who you are. Clearly, its not working for you. I suggest a different approach. Besides, I dont have time to read your friggin dissertation. Brevity is the soul of wit and all that crap. Habit 6: You post repeatedly, using the same picture, but with different ages, categories, descriptions of who you are and what you want. What, Datelines To Catch a Predator wasnt enough for you? Crreeeepy. Habit 7: You are looking for a Girlfriend Who Squirts. Jesus H. man, you also wont give up. Im tempted to buy a water pistol, stick it up my vagigi and let er rip all over you just so I dont have to see your fucking post one more time. Okay folks, thats all, back to your regularly scheduled program.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Heights <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-04-17T12:09:41-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/313570430.html 7 Habits of Highly Annoying M4W Posters on CL text For the girls: So You've Decided You Want To Date A Houston Musician http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/307285310.html Okay, ladies. He's cute, hot, and his music touches your soul. He smiles at you from the stage, maybe even dedicates a song to you, talks to you and only you during his breaks. You exchange email addresses, myspace friends accounts, you call each other's cell phones so you'll have each other's numbers. A few drinks later, you're making out and maybe even waking up the next day to see your handsome musician snuggling between your sheets. Here's a quick guide to navigate you through the next steps in your relationship with your Houston musician: 1. Do not attempt to rouse him before noon, two pm if you're really cool, five pm if you're meant to be with him. He does not know this "morning" of which you speak. His job is from around 9 pm to at least 3 am, and if a group wants to go to Spanish Flowers, he may roll in from his gig around 5 am. He hasn't seen a sunrise in years, except for the times when he rolls home as it's getting light outside. Don't expect him to know what you do in the daytime. Your job is a foreign concept to him. Don't expect him to understand your deadlines, the fact that your lunch hour is only one hour long, or your hassles with your boss or co-workers. His eyes will glaze over when you attempt to share your Real Job details with him, so don't. 2. Those other three skanky hos at your table are called Band Girlfriends or Band Wives. They will alternately gossip, drink, shout and applaud, drink, dance, drink, smoke, and yammer at you during songs. You may not leave them for another table. You may not argue or fight with them. You must pretend to like them, even if you can't stand them. The last thing your man wants to hear about is how his drummer's wife is a bitch. The last thing he wants to see from the stage is you not being "supportive." Stay at your table and endure; you'll need them later (see #3 below). 3. Should you be unable to attend every gig (being that you have to be at your Real Job at 9 am) you should attend as many weekend gigs as possible and remain at the Band Wife table while you are there. Getting to know these other skanks will insure that if your man plays a gig without you, he won't mess around in front of what he thinks are your "friends." If your musician does step out of line with another cutie, those drunken skanks will make her extremely uncomfortable and put the fear into your man that you will be told. Band Wives are your best protection against cheating, aside from your solid presence. 4. If your musician travels out of town and you can't be with him, there will be days when he doesn't call you. This may be for a number of reasons, the main one being that he is in travel-mode and assumes that you are okay. If he calls you every day and then skips a night, but calls you the next night, he is probably still on the up-and-up. If he calls you daily but then stops halfway through the tour, he may have cheated. If he calls you daily for cash because his crappy van lost its transmission somewhere near Lima, Ohio, you can be sure that he still loves you and can't wait to get home. 5. If your musician cheats on you, don't stay with him. He will not change, he'll just look for someone who makes him feel like a rockstar without all the jealousy and drama of a real relationship. 6. Conversely, if you let him go and never question what he's doing at any time, he will believe that you are cool with him doing whatever he wants. Make your rules for dating, including cheating, clear to him, and if he wants to share your life, he can come to you on your terms. Don't be afraid to use the Glare Of Death towards some other chick, but don't DeathGlare him onstage, even if he's got a skank sitting on his face while he plays the guitar with his toenails. Tell him it was the best toenail-face-solo you've ever seen, and then bully the skank in the bathroom and make her leave the bar in tears. It's the only way. 7. Understand that his clothing will always smell like burning rope. Even if he's not smoking the stuff, his friends are. If you don't want it in your house, don't let him move in. 8. About letting him move in: Don't. Surely you've heard the old joke, "What do you call a drummer who's between girlfriends...homeless!" It's not a joke. When you allow a musician to move in, you are telling him that it's okay if he doesn't work or contribute, clean, or flush the toilet behind himself, because you love him and will put up with all of that just to be his Band Girlfriend. Oh, and don't clean, move, or otherwise touch his musical equipment in any way, ever, even if you have to wedge past it just to get in your own front door. 9. Say you've thrown him out. Don't pawn, sell, throw away, or otherwise deprive him of his equipment that he's left in your house. Give him 10 days to remove it, and then rent a storage unit in his name and give him the information and the key so that he can reclaim it once he's found another girlfriend to mooch off of. 10. This next one is critical: DON'T EVER CRITICIZE HIS BAND or other band members. Sure, the guitarist is tone-deaf and only knows one number on the volume dial (11). Yeah, his drummer couldn't count to four if his life depended upon it. So his singer weighs about ten pounds more than she can comfortably fit in her clothing, or never knows what to say between songs, or just can't manage that high note. So their songs grind at you like a dentist's drill. It is NOT your place to acknowledge any of these flaws. Even if he's ranting pissed-off because of any of these things, listen in sympathetic silence and keep your own opinions to yourself. It's like my mama, I can diss her but nobody else can. As soon as he perceives that you're attacking his band, YOU are the enemy. So don't. There are a lot more, but this should get you started. I've got to go get a nap, since it's Friday and it's going to be a long night. See you at the gig! I'll be drinking, dancing, and yammering at Table #1.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: experienced guru <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-04-06T14:41:24-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/307285310.html For the girls: So You've Decided You Want To Date A Houston Musician text Times most certainly ARE changing http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/260727633.html I'm 36 years old, and my mother is a lesbian. She wasn't always one-at least not for the 18 years she was married to my abusive, neglectful, alcoholic father, but when she finally had the strength to kick him to the curb, she found herself in love with the one person she had been able to confide in during the bad times: her best friend, who just happened to be a woman. **Before you start saying she was munching muff long before my dad was gone, save it. I know my mother, and I know my life. Trust me when I tell you she wasn't.** I was 17 at the time, so I can't really claim to have been raised by a lesbian. Sure, the ideals I formed from that point forward certainly influenced who I am today, but it isn't my (or my generation's) tolerance that is going to make the difference in society's opinions on homosexuality. My children, though, and even more likely their children, are changing the world we live in. So many of my high schoolers' friends are gay, bi, or whatever. They don't care. They don't judge beyond who each person is in their hearts. And that's because of parents like me and my husband, and because of grandparents like my mother and her partner. By the way, the homosexuality = promiscuity theory holds absolutely zero water in the harsh light of reality. My mother is STILL with the same woman she fell in love with 19 years ago. And, they are raising her partner's grandchildren, because CPS decided they (yes, the lesbians) offer a better environment than the children's parents do. How's that grab ya?! xoxoxo P.S. I'm not in any way fooling myself into thinking my little revelation here will change anybody's opinion. I don't care. Just don't let my 16 year old, 6ft. 2" 270lb. NFL dream overhear you talking shit about his adored grandmother-he's likely to kill you. :) Love, Ariel  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Ariel <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-01-10T19:14:35-06:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/260727633.html Times most certainly ARE changing text a rant from your mechanic http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/218392634.html ok here goes.1st, yes there are some nice curtious people out there. but they are few and far between.so here are some thoughts from the people most of you consider low life, bottom feeding, trailer park, grease monkeys. and these are from my personal exsperiances over the last 15 years. #1 to the parents..whne you bring your mini van in for its 1st oil change at 3000 miles, and the inside reaks so bad from all the milk shakes spilled down the dash,door panels and carpet that has now spoiled combined with the ground in cheese burger happy meals in the carpet after being baked in the hot summer sun for several weeks. dont be pissed when i refuse to drive it because the smell almost made me loose my lunch and require you to have it detailed before i will touch it. after all.........why should i even need to tell you this.if it was my wife that did that to my new car. i would sell it and she could ride the fucking bus!! #2. to the red neck that decieded to use his pasenger side of his geo storm for his spit cup (dash,seat,door panel,and the floor). wtf were you thinking!!! and why on gods green earth would you think me or anyone else would crawl under your dash in all that nasty ass shit to fix your blower motor so you can have ac!! personaly i want to know if you would do it? and its your spit!! #3. to those with toddlers.if you brat slings milk from the bottle all over the back seat area.....it spoils!!! and you can smell it in the front! also...it doesnt help to shove your shitty and piss filled diapers in the rear door panels!! #4 to the guy with mold and fungus growing in the carpet. the smell should of been the clue. however.. the mold and shit does give the visual. clean that shit up!!! wtf is wrong with you? haw does your underwear look fucker??? #5 to the stupid ass insurance adjusters. if there is a hole in the block and a rod is hanging out....its safe to say it has a broken rod, and the oil pan doesnt have to be removed to see why...the fucking rod is broke and the block is shot!!! #6 to the lady that wants to play the race card..i dont care what color you are, i dont care if your edjucated, and i dont care if your a woman. just because i fixed your engine doesnt mean its my fault you trans went out! edj.black woman or not!!! #7 to all the workers at nasa. just because you work there doesnt mean you are THE rocket scientist!! someone has to clean the shiter! and my gues would be the one driving the pontiac!!so dont be pissed because i am not purfect and didnt fix your car right the 1st time. after all, didnt the shuttle blow up 2 times?????so far!!!at least my fuck up didnt kill the whole crew! #8 to all the doctors that think they are far superior to normal people. just keep in mind that you had to study the human body, its been the same sense the 1st man thousands of years ago. and you still fuck up.. i deal with a car that changes almost every year. so when we cant find your squeek or rattle that only happens when your doing 70 and changing lanes please understand that i cand drive the car at 70,change lanes,and be underneath your car to see wtf it is all at the same time... but im doing my best. and the good thing is..it wont kill you!!! #9 to those of you that have or want a convertable.. dont bitch because of the wind noise, road noise, water leaks, and rattles. your basicaly covering your investment with a fucking paper plate!!!! its suposed to be like that idiot!! i cant fix your bad decision!! and heres some tips on buying your new car.. 1 is it a peice of shit? google it and find out! 2 when you look at the engine.. can you see it? if not. its gonna cost you dearly to have it fixed. so dont be mad at me. 3 if you buy a full size truck with a v6 dont be mad because it has no power. again i cant fix your bad decision! 4 if your weigh 400 plus pounds, the cute geo metro is NOT the car for you. dont be mad because it pulls to the left. you have exceeded the weight limit on that side of the car!!! 5 if it sucks to get in and out of that new shinny car... it will always suck to get in and out of it, and more so on your bad days. dont buy that one! 6 cars with split ac systems. they dont blow the same temp on both sides. you will never get your side of the car to be a different temp then your passanger, your in the same box of air that they are in!!! its pointless!!! 7 if you live in a hot state.. a dark colored car will get much hotter than a light colored car. and it wont cool off as fast!! dont bitch about it..you picked it!!!i can not fix physics! thats what happens to a dark color..it gets hotter!!!!   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around s.texas <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-10-09T21:25:33-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/218392634.html a rant from your mechanic text HONEY!!! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/189240022.html I have room full of honey...Granted it is still in the comb and the bees are living in the walls of my master bedroom. BUT....If you are a Beekeeper and want like 8 feet of honey comb come and get it!!!  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around 14022 Santa Teresa 77045 <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-02T11:31:02-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/189240022.html HONEY!!! text If the posters from Houston CL Personals got together.... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/148429582.html (Yes, some people fall into more than one category. If I left you out I apologize.) If all the posters from Houston Craig's List personals were together in one room there would be... 68 People just back from Starbucks and now posting a missed connection 18 Gay men posting a MC for a straight guy 37 People that would get fired for the things they post on RnR at work 19 BBWs looking for love in the wrong place 16 of which are morbidly obese 12 of which are also posting in Casual Encounters 1 of which had chicken wing in hand as she typed 63 People that like to use the term "Gayborhood" 737 People that think they are funnier than they are 698 People that think they are smarter than they are 48 "Str8" guys whose wives are out of town and they'd like to watch some sports with another guy and porn, "possibly j/o or blow each other, but nothing gay." 29 Gay men posing as women 16 Gay men posing as "Str8" guys 1 Woman posing as a Gay man 14 Transexuals posing as women 39 People that enjoy correcting spelling and grammar 18 of which have mistakes in their posts correcting others 7 of which spell grammar with an "e" 48 People who were naked when they posted. 29 People who were drunk when they posted. 2 Middle aged men one of which wants a son the other conspiracy theorist; they will become BFF 1 One smoking hot woman that said she was BBW thinking the BB in BBW meant Big Breasted (Fake that is) 782 People that don't know the difference between There, their, and they're 762 of which are also baffled by It's and Its 29 People that only type with caps lock 1761 People that ignore capitalization 302 of which ignore all grammer rules in general 6 People looking for a 420 hook up 2 People asking what 420 means 13 People looking to party with "Tina" 31 Fat guys in Hawaiian shirts just looking to party 17 Men with their wives out of town looking to "blow a bowl" then be a "bottom" for the "first time" 198 Men would be standing there with their penis out begging to get laid 198 of which posted as "drug a disease free" 42 of which used a picture of one of the other 198's penis as their own 32 of which their genitalia is bright shade of red 17 Dirty old men that say "Race, age, weight, ect don't matter lets just get it on." 167 Utter Jackasses 37 of which their lives will not be fulfilled until they get a Best of CL 12 People arguing with their own RnR alter-ego 1 Married Couple unwittingly exchanging emails with each other after a CE post 61 Women looking for a sugar daddy 3 of which are actually men 321 Women hoping to get the biggest fake boobs they can afford 167 People that don't know what discreet means 183 People that don't know what platonic means 106 People that spell Loser with two "O"s 39 People that post the same images over and over again with their R&R posts 38 of which think a post is not complete w/o 4 of said images 47 Men that like random household objects forcibly shoved up their rectum 18 Men using the platonic massage ploy to lure women 3 Men using a platonic massage ploy to lure men 8 Guys posting crotch shots in holey underwear in CE 19 men that respond to every W4M post with a shot of their penis and have given it a name 3 Men that have responded to every W4M post since the inception of Houston CL 15 People from out of state hating on Texas 243 People who should use a therapist as an outlet not Craig's List 102 Men posting in Strictly Platonic looking for an attractive female friend 102 of which hope that the friendship involves sex 1 of which is 42 years old and wants a son to carry on his family name 11 People posting LTR personals stating they have the herp-herp 3 of which also posted in CE as D&D Free 9 People that think D&D stands for Dungeons and Dragons 62 People that have used the term "asshat", "asswipe", "cuntstick", "fuckwad", or "fucktard" in the normal course of conversation this week. 102 Black women posting for LTRs 93 of which are seeking a SWM 1 of which hopes to turn said SWM into a gimp 103 Married men that answer personals not asking for married men 93 People that completely miss the humor in a post and have to make an angry reply 122 unemployed posters 32 of which posted personals 3 of which are homeless and posting from a local library 46 People posting from jail 87 frequent posters that often post saying they're a first time poster 73 Transvestites 3 of which teach 1st grade 136 Men looking to hook up with a tranny 2 Women looking for some hot tranny sex 293 Posters would qualify as mentally disabled 32 of which frequently post about politics 8 of which are severly disabled and don't know it 49 RnR posters that look just like Linda Blair in The Exorcist when George W. is brought up 3 People in full Ku Klux Klan regalia 203 People in full S&M regalia 23 of which currently have a ball gag in place 597 Haters and A countless number of people with nothing better to do but Craig's List at work  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around 77096 <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-04-05T11:37:49-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/148429582.html If the posters from Houston CL Personals got together.... text Damage from Rita . http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/100381033.html Attached is a photo illustrating the damage caused to my friend's home in Houston from the hurricane Rita that passed through on Friday night. It really makes you cherish what you have, and reminds us not to take things too much for granted. <img src=100381033.jpg> webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-09-27T16:31:17-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/100381033.html Damage from Rita . text Notes from the Salon--wax on! wax off! http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/42040504.html Okay, so yesterday I went in to get a bikini wax, right? As an aside, scheduling that with a man is totally awkward and all the reception people at the Beautique are men, except the one, and that lady is constantly on the phone. She seems like the type of person who answers the phone with "Go" instead of "Hello?" Anyhow, I'm not 12. I can buy tampons anywhere with no issues, but I'm always like: WHY does this man need to know what kind of wax I'm getting? You're allowed to add/subtract types of waxings once you're in there anyway...which brings me to my point. So anyhow, I am in there with this lady who *might* be American/might not be. For ladies who have been in my place, you understand that this has some effect on how they feel about waxing, etc. For example, if you've ever had a Brazilian do your wax, they don't give you the paper underwear, they don't tell you to wear your own, and if you ask for that paper towel thing to cover your hoo-hoo, they act like you're some prude. They're all about seeing every woman's hoo-hoo apparently. Non-Americans generally do a better job and with more gusto, but Americans are less up in your piece, which sometimes is appreciated. So this lady was a confusing person. Sometimes I thought she had an accent, and sometimes not, but she looked very exotic and all. Let me make a side point, however. When I get my hair done, I always go to the same person. She is awesome. When I get a wax-- I don't care. Whether they look at my hoo-hoo or not, the way they tell me to hold my legs while ripping away my Mammalian tendencies--the end result is the same. True, some of them go a little farther in. But there's either hair or no hair. I'm not the type to get a style. And if it were some sort of style disaster, I put my pants on and walk out and it's all the same. It's not like a hairstyle. The person who does it is the same as the next to me because I just want the hair removed. No art, please. But this lady made a big deal of getting repeat customers. Okay, I think--whatever. So I'm lying there and she's like-- you know, you're very hairy. You need to come in once a month. (Dude: you look at hairy hoo-hoos all day! Is it necessary to comment? This is awkward enough. It's like when airport security comments on stuff in your bags. You're like-- I know you have to go through my stuff, but do we need to make it more awkward by audibly acknowledging you are? "Hey, cool iPod." "Nice box of tampax!" NO! DON'T COMMENT!) So fine. My hoo-hoo is hairy. I'm sorry. All my family is from the Mediterranean. I'm over it. Please get on with the burning pain of it all! Actual response: Oh. Yep. Eep. Uh-huh. (Know what I mean, Verne? For chrissake! Get a spine, me!) Another comment: You know, we should do something about your dark mustache. Me: The fuck? I don't have a dark mustache! Look, I am not one of those living in denial people. If I had a mustache, I'd damn well get rid of it. Yes, I have a few very fine hairs on my upper lip, but no one has ever mistaken me for a manimal. I am a MAMMAL. Okay, fine, waxing lady--you win. Now I'm all paranoid. Just wax me or whatever. Just do it and hand me the bill, for the love of God. My actual response: Oh. Okay. (I'm such a wanker.) Another MF comment!!!: I see you've done your eyebrows recen...oh. Me: Oh? Oh?!! I don't like the sound of that OH! waxing lady! I don't like it at all! I did my eyebrows last weekend! Actual response: Oh? You think I should get my eyebrows done, too?(Oy.) Inevitable comment: Do you pluck your eyebrows out here (points to my temples) or do they just not grow? Me (actual): Umm, they just don't grow out that far. She: Well, it might look more better [sic] if they did. You should really use a pencil. Me: I am SORRY my eyebrows aren't regulation length! But whose are that long? Seriously? I'm not the Mysterious Purple Pie Man of Porcupine Peak (ra tata ta tata tata, tata ta ta!)!! They're fine. It's okay. I am good enough, smart enough... Actual: Yeah, I guess. (almost a cartillaginous spine developing there!) She: I just like to be honest with my clients. You know, I also do facials and now that I looking at your skin (through this ultra-bright flourescent-lit, unforgiving, satan's toy of a magnifying glass), I can see you have a lot of...problem areas (I can see EVERY flaw and DAAAMN you have a bunch). Me: OH. MY. GOD. WAX LADY OF MYSTERIOUS CITIZENSHIP AND UNKNOWN ETHNIC ORIGIN! PLEASE LIE! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, LIE! I WILL GIVE YOU A BETTER TIP! Actual response: Well, I am in kind of a hurry today, so I'm not gonna schedule a facial (though I did discuss my options with her after some prodding--*sigh*. But still-- you go, girl! to me. Spine: present!). 45 minutes earlier, when I walked into the salon, I was feeling pretty good. I had ditched work a bit early, the weather was nice, and several people told me how cute my skirt was and how nice I looked. Yeah. In that span, I was dissed in nearly every possible aesthetic way (though she did enjoy my skirt also--it was quite cute and involved satin bows), plucked, tarred, feathered, and had follicles stripped from every meridian. My eyes looked all puffy and my mouth looked all puffy--like I had just been in a bar fight with a bee hive. Thanks, wax lady! My sometimes boyfriend didn't even freakin' notice! (Maybe, of course, it's because I DIDN'T HAVE A MUSTACHE BEFORE--YOU BIZARD!) Of course, I'll be going back to her. She did a really good job. Oh spine--where have you wandered off to? this is in or around Hirsute Suite webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-09-10T12:25:52-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/42040504.html Notes from the Salon--wax on! wax off! text Diary of a Vasectomy http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/33678451.html So I decided to get a vasectomy. Thirty something and several kids, it was time. Going in, the main comment I got from friends who had had one is that it hurts more than the doctor lets on in the pre-op consultation. Not the most comforting thought. Day of Surgery (Doc's exam room, not hospital) So I'm in the room waiting for the doc. He asks how I'm feeling, I say, "nervous." Apparently he took this as a que to that I would like things to get weird. Right after this he says, "you know, I have an intern who would be really interested to observe this procedure." Now the exam room is not spacious, so this person would be within a foot of me. I'm thinking, well let's not be a prude here, it's for training a doctor. Wrong. Doc goes on to say that she's not actually a medical student, she just wants to go to med school. What??!! So here I am nervous enough to begin with that my ball sack is going to be operated on (when there's nothing wrong with it), and he thinks I want a 19 year old girl sitting next to me watching just for the sheer novelty aspect of sastisfying her personal curiousity! I can see her years down the road, "I would like to thank my family as I accept this nobel prize for medicine, and to give a special thanks to the man who inspired me as a teenager by letting me watch his ball sack get sliced open and his sperm tubes get yanked out." In reality, she probably would have gotten a "call" on her camera phone during the operation and my crowning moment would have been immortalized on the internet. While I didn't really want to disappoint my ball sack surgeon right before the operation, I said, "no." He gives me one of those condescending doctor looks and that's the end of that. But not the end of our time together. The fun is just beginning. Step one is the anesthesia. A local. Now the problem with locals is delivery. How does your dentist get you numb? That's right, a shot. Turns out they make some sort of special ball sack novicane. And they deliver it with, you guessed it, a needle. And the shot to prevent *pain* is given to you, not in a vein in your leg, not in a vien in your groin. No, the needle get stuck right into your ballsack. And not just into the ballsack, but into your ball. Yes, you heard me correctly. Right in the ball. And the doctor actually says, "You may feel a pinch." Really? A pinch? Who the F*** used to pinch you doc? A f***ing gorilla with f***ing vicegrips? And one shot is not sufficient. You get five. And not a quick in and out, no it's the old, "I've stuck the needle there and I must slowly release the ball sack novicane while wiggling the needle back and forth." It feels like brain freeze to the tenth power in your ball. It makes you want to vomit and cry all at the same time. Then they start on your other ball. Seems that part of the pain management is to inflict such severe pain during the administration of the anesthesia that really you wouldn't notice just about anything else they did. Just about... So this was supposed to be a special type of vasectomy- no scalpel. In fact, his brochure said something about lasers (I like lasers). Turns out there are no lasers. And there's no scalpel because he just jams a big ass pair of pointed forceps directly into your scrotum, making a puncture wound, grabbing the sperm tubes and pulling them out through the hole. But it's OK, b/c you're under a local anesthetic. Now he's not done when he pulls out the first set of sperm tubes, and this was not a good thing, for more than just the obvious reaons. Turns out that my breakfast of cold pizza wasn't the best choice of ball sack operation day cuisine. Pizza gives me gas and I had been fighting to hold back the inevitable since the beginning of the procedure. But when he stuck those forceps in me with is face right down by my ball sack so he would have a good view, we had a breach. A large foul loud machine gun breach. For a split second, I wasn't sure if it was just gas or if I had crapped myself. All I could see was a vague look of panic behind his ball sack surgeon safety glasses. I mean, he's holding the sperm tubes in his forceps and he knows he can't just pull back, but his position is untenable. He can't withstand another assault. For about ten seconds, no one moves. And no one acknowledges what just happened (see, it's not just on dates that people act like that about flatulence, but that's a different rant). Fortunately, things stablize and we continue. Anothe five minutes of tugging and sperm tube cutting, and voila, we're done. A simple ten minute procudure is completed, and I do at least feel confident that what we did was sufficient to destroy my reproductive capacity. And by the way, if you haven't caught on yet it does hurt more than the doctors let on. So the lesson here is- when your buddies hear the word vasectomy and cringe, it's not just some dumb man type response to a myth. It is a rational reaction to having anyone go near your ball sach with a sharp object or pliers. A lesson I learned to late. Next up on the rant front: the ball sack had to be shaved for the surgery. Now maybe the porno guys make this look cool, and we've all hear about Brazilians for the ladies, but what no one talks about is the razor stubble... this is in or around Houston webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-06-14T02:08:15-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/33678451.html Diary of a Vasectomy text Starbucks Hater http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/32241505.html Okay falkers... I went out last night... had too much to drink yada yada so I spent the night somewhere other than my home. So on my drive home to shower up and get ready for some lame ass meeting where I have to listen to these tools go "on and on" I realize I am out of COFFEE. I typically go to whole foods but have driven past there so I'm stuck buying Starsmucks over priced coffee beans. DAMN all the Starbucks I pass have at least 15 to 25 cars in line. I give up, go into the one on Memorial (no drive thru but its close to my house). I have to park and go inside.... OKAY, Let my explain what I am wearing... I went to Guave Lamp for Karakoe (sp?) So I'm wearing some slinky Lucky Jeans (shows off my sexy a$$), a pink flared sleve top that shows my stomach, 3 inch spikey heeled sandals, I've got on make-up and my wair in long and WILD looking. I didn't get action last night but I gave off the "freshly fucked vibe". I reek of booze and second hand smoke. So I'm walking in embarssed but FUCK IT, I NEED COFFEE! This guy is walking out with his two tween girls. I'm like "holy shit, I'm exposing these children. Will they ask their dad if that lady is doing the walk of shame?". I stroll in and its like SUITS and JOGGERS. They all look at me. I'm just ignoring them. I grab some beans and wait in line. Then I decided to order and Americano. BIG MISTAKE. I should have taken my beans and got out of there. So they are making my drink, the poor guy making it SPILLS in. Thankfully he wasn't hurt but now I've got to wait. They give me a slip for a free coffee but come on I make a shit load of cash. I don't need a free fucking cup of coffee. I need to get the hell out of there before people see me. DAMN COFFEE ADDICTION. I think I need a coffee 12 step program..."do you drink it alone, has it gotten you in trouble, can you not live without it..." Anyways, this BITCH who is in front of me in line keeps looking back making gaspy noises and at me and drawing attention to me. It was pretty clear she's trying to make others look at me and think she's soooo offended byt me being in there. Like "oh, I've never". Let me add she's wearing running shorts (but trust me... she ain't a runner) and this holy ass blue sweatshirt with like 50 moth holes in it. So I had enugh of this bitch and I say in a low voice directly to her "You know, I went out last night, had too much to drink and choose not to drive myself home so that's why I look like this but what's your excuse? You look like a swarm of moths attacked you. You should go home and change because you look like a bag lady". Her eyes got big, her face turned RED and she left. What a judgemental BITCH. Okay, so I'm already embarssed about doing a walk of shame in Starbucks. This bitch felt a need to attempt to make a big deal about me. Hello, she looked like she got that sweatshirt out of a fucking trash can... people who live in glass houses. bbbbeeeaaaattccccchhhhh. Anyways, she leaves, I'm wating for my coffee (that got spilled), I see someone I know, they are staring at me.... GGGGRRREEEEAAAAAT. Of course the fucktard walks over and wants to talk to me. He's only seen me in a suit and in a business setting. I tell him "Oh, you didn't hear, I quit my job... burned out on the whole corp america scene... I took a job workin at the Mall"... he laughs and walks off mumbles something about he's done the walk of shame many times himself... yeah get lost tool. THEN... it happens. One of my mothers holy roller friends walks in and sees me. I bet she just came from some crack of dawn church service. I just rushed past her on the way out. My mother.... oh dammit she's going to call and chew me out. I'm a grown woman... I pay all my own bills, I paid my OWN way thru collge, I sent my parents on a lavish vacation year before last, I responsible, I'm trusworthy, I take care of anything they need done, I'd give my parents a kidney if they needed it... but she's going to call me and chew me out. I can just hear that lady telling my mother about seeing me in Starbucks looking freshly fucked. (NOTE: I did not get fucked last night I just had "the look"). I can see it now, I'm going to be put on the prayer list. Myabe I'll change my ways, stop drinking, dancing, hanging out with homosexuals, have sex out of wedlock, no more show licking or spankings... repent and give 10% of my check to the church. haha. So I walk to my car and I see the guy with his tween girls again. Sorry dude about exposing your kids to my walk of shame... again. Okay, that's my drama for the day! Back to work. Enjoy your coffee falkers. PS. Does anyone want me to add them to my mothers prayer list? this is in or around memorial/detering webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-27T08:54:17-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/32241505.html Starbucks Hater text A Brief Note about My Cube http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/32113557.html <div style="line-height:22px; width:470px; font-size:12px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif;padding-left:30px;">Dear co-workers, managers, underlings and other people who show up in my cube, Years ago I wonder what people did to really get up the cackles of their co-workers. Did they go and handle each other slide rules with sticky fingers or blow smoke into cracked open office doors? Maybe they would scratch the mimeograph roller putting creases in your copies. Perhaps the pet peeves of our forefathers were completely different that the behaviors of my co-workers that I consider to be pet peeves. I don't know, and frankly I really don't care. What I care about right now is changing your behaviors while you visit the eight by eight cube that I call my office before I unleash the fury. This letter serves as notice to you that hence forth, any co-worker, manager, underling or otherwise human being that breaks any of the following rules in my cube is going to get smacked. It might be a good hard smack across the face, or it might be a smack on the wrist. It depends on the maliciousness of your infringement, so don't think of coming in here and breaking all the rules today. I'll smack you so hard when you stop rolling, your clothes will be out of style (which in your case is not going to be that hard). So, the rules: <ol> <li>Do not touch my monitor with your fingers. - Seriously, don't. I have to sit here in my cheap office chair and stare at these glass fronted cubes all day to do my job. Having the remnants of your greasy hair or sticky lunch or snotty nose on my monitor makes it hard to see the detail I need to do my job. Imagine I were to come to your car window and put a smudge of Vaseline over the center of your vision. That's what it is like. Now, I know that you need to move your finger along when you read something, and I've noticed your lips moving too, but for the love of Jebus, can't you fucking use the non-writing end of a pen or just hover your finger along? Do you have to smudge my monitor up? Can't you wear a glove? Do you see the fucking glass cleaner in my office? Next time you see fit to smudge my screen, I'm going to take that Windex and pour it in your coffee; liberally, you bitch. </li> <li>Do not burp or pass gas in my office. - Hey guess what? I really can't stand the smell of your digestion. I'm sure that you are proud that you have the free time at work to spend 90 minutes at lunch across the street at that Greek place, but I swear if you belch in my office one more fucking time I am going to take my keyboard and shove it up your ass sideways. Your gastric gasses, whether produced via your mouth or your ass are not welcome in my cube. Even when I am not here I do not wish to smell your fowled air. If you feel the need to burp, step into the hallway or go back to your own office. The stench that permeates the air after your burps melts the paint off the wall, and is second only to your passing gas in terms of smells that ruin my day. Next time you feel the need to fart, please step out the window and plummet to the ground. Well, that or go to the restroom like any other person that respects the people he works with. This is not your buddys house, it is my tiny office. </li> <li>Do not send me cute pictures you found on the web. - Look, I've been on the web since the early 90s and in the past decade I've seen just about everything I want to see on the web. Please do not forward me the picture of the dog with human eyes or the kids all sitting around drinking. I saw them the first time, back in 1994. They are not funny, instead they just serve to clog up our already over taxed Internet connection, a connection that I need to surf HotJobs.com and Monster.com so I can get my ass away from dip shits like you. Please consider jokes, chain mail, stories about your religious beliefs and anything else forwarded to you via more than one other person as falling under this ban. I just don't want it. I have friends who know my sense of humor who send me emails that I actually find funny so I dont need your crap. </li> <li>Do not attempt to sway my political opinion at work. - Look, I have to work with you and I'd like us to remain civil while at the office. As you can tell if you have read this far, I pretty much hate your fucking guts but am able to keep you fairly oblivious to this fact by being professional at the office. Since you seem to be one of these people that wanted to impeach one president for lying about a blow job and re-elect another after lying his way into a war that he could not be bother to plan for, I can tell you flat out, you don't want to talk politics to me. I've taken the step of reading the news and making decisions on the state of affairs for myself, while you seem to enjoy being told what to think. This means that I am far more capable of making my point while you always resort to yelling at me. Well, you know what? I'm sick and tired of people like you being so lazy as to allow your highly esteemed liarder (not leader, he's a liar) carte blanc in ruining America. I didn't become a citizen of the country to watch it become a charade of what the founding fathers fought for. You obviously don't care and that pisses me off. So, don't bring it up, because you don't want me on my soapbox. </li> <li>Do not tell me about your favorite TV show. - I've covered this before too many times. You know I do not watch TV, I prefer a good book. Plus, I sit here looking at your fucking finger prints on my monitor all way. Do you really think I want to go home and watch yet another screen for hours at end just because you do? No, instead I read books or magazines or the newspaper. That's how I relax. Of course, this doesn't mean that you do not feel obligated to pass on the latest in lowest-common denominator humor that the scribes on your favorite sitcom of the night spew forth. I'm sure the joke was funny last night when you saw and laughed because it was delivered by a highly paid actor; but I have to hear it from an insufferable bore like you. If I feel the need to watch a TV show, I'll pick it myself thanks. Please don't fill me in on the shit that I wanted to miss anyway. </li> <li>Do not talk to me while I am eating lunch at my desk. - This one is really for you managers. When you come to my cube and see me eating the latest in under $2 frozen lunches please do not make the assumption that I will be willing to allow my food to go cold while you go over the latest work. I'm eating my lunch, and while yes I am in my cube doing so, when there is food on a plate, I'm on my lunch break. Just consider me to be out of the office at one of those restaurants that you don't pay me enough to visit more than once a week. Next time you come in and chat until my food is cold I'm going to take it and stick it in your office where you'll never look (probably behind your copy of labor laws that you obviously have never read). Then I'll take that Windex and spritz your eyes you asshat.</li> </ol> I hope that I have been able to get through your thick skull just how fucking insensitive you are. I hate having to work with people like you and only request that you follow my rules for the office hours. I will post these rules in my office tonight. Break them at your peril.</div> this is in or around Cubicle Hell webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-25T17:24:27-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/32113557.html A Brief Note about My Cube text Shiny Happy Co-workers http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/31553251.html Okay office hell poster. How do you not go to work and assault your fucking co-workers? How the HELL does your managing partner let this happen? Is he/she fucking one of them? Are the related? This sounds likes an unprofessional/micro-managed office environment. Many years ago I worked at an office and one of those shiny happy bitches started working for us. She only work 30 hours a week doing the books. She had no formal education but constantly reminded us her husband had a PHD (not a real doctor). She has never stepped foot into a college classroom. No, she wasn't hot, she's dated him since high school. She'd often drop the line "I'm married to a doctor". She would stroll into the office everyday signing songs. Annoying songs like a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down" or "hey, everybody its Friday, it's Friday - f-r-i-d-aaaaaaaa-y". She had this screeching laugh that sounded like a chipmunk on X. tee-hhee-he, tee-heee-ha. I wanted to gouge her eyes out with my pen. She would stop by my office and try to make small talk. She talked non-stop about her dog and how much she loved her dog. Her dog dies she takes a week off of work and has an anxiety attack when she returns and the dogs photo is sitting on her desk. She was obsessed with cleanliness. She brought her own cups, forks, plates to the office since she wasn't sure if our dishwasher was truly sanitizing the dishes. My co-worker asked her how she could stand having an intimate relationship with her husband. She said that they ALWAYS used condom and took a bath before and after they made love. I tried to be nice and asked did she have some sort of blood disorder or get sick easily, etc. She didnt she just thought germs were icky. When she went to the bathroom she would flush the commode about 3 times prior to using the bathroom. Then she would roll and wad of toilet paper to wipe with. She would then flush the commode about 3 more times, sometimes more. My co-worker and I would use the bathroom at the same time and hear this all go on. So once I asked her why she did this whole routine. She said it was just habit and she felt she was helping clear the pluming. One of us had to go. I took a memo from our building management and copied the letterhead. I proceed to write up a memo and put it in everyone's in-box and in the ladies bathroom stalls that read: Due to the excessive flushing in the 16th floor bathroom the 15th floor has been flooded. It has caused over 1.2 million dollars worth of damage. The building inspector believes the flushing to be of a malicious nature. We are requesting that you contact us with any information... She stopped using the bathroom on our floor and slunk around all weird for about 2 weeks. I found out she was crying in the office managers office scared she was going to go to jail so they called the management office and found out it was a joke. It was fantastic. I got an outstanding job offer from a competitor so I left a few weeks later. This chick kept her OWN candy dish on her desk. She was afraid of weird finger touch her candy and refused to share them with anyone. The day before I left I walked into her office and opened every single Hershey kiss in the bowl and her supply bag and licked them, wrapped them up and put them in the bowl and supply bag. My co-worked whose office was across the hall would laugh her ass off every time that chick ate a piece of candy. Strangely enough I did run into her a few months ago as I was leaving the museum. She looked like she saw a ghost and ran off. MM PS. Bring it on haters. I licked your candy too. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-05-18T18:32:00-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/31553251.html Shiny Happy Co-workers text Memo Basically About Post-Its http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/30043543.html I was recently informed by my significant friend after yucking it up about the old joke (from Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion--comic gold) that "I invented post-its!" that a nickname for Post-Its is F.L.Y.P.O.P. (Fucking Little Yellow Piece Of Paper). What does this have to do with my rant? Nothing, save the theme of Post-Its. I just thought you might like to know some trivia. As you may realize, sometimes we get so caught up in our little rants and pissiness (?), that we forget to enjoy the minutiae of, as the French say, la vie quotidienne. (If you haven't seen Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion and enjoy fierce irony, all things 80s, and a damn fine comedy, run, don't walk to put it on your Netflix queue.) So here I am at my job. What is it that I do at my job? I don't have any fucking idea. It involves a lot of post-its, stacks and stacks of paper (who knew people still used paper?!), avoiding the zealotry of my co-worker across the cube alley from me, a healthy dose of Excel, a lot of mind-numbing data, and sometimes if I'm lucky, this crazy woman who works remotely from Idaho (yeah she is) riding me like a $2 circus pony sending me photocopy orders and general personal bitch requests via email (which, with some satisfaction I reply to, copying my boss, with a bullshit response about how I'm swamped, but basically amounting to: I'm not *your* bitch, so step the fuck off. I'm only the *local* office whipping boy/girl.) In general though, I am not the one to call on for all your photocopying needs. I have a college degree and in theory, I am using it, pounding stats into my keyboard, writing manuals for software I don't understand, and making technical, scaled drawings of things I'll never see. So that's my job--as if you care. Even I don't care. I'm a professional clockwatcher. When I add up minutes of the day spent thinking: When can I go home? and compare them to minutes spent critically thinking about my work tasks, the ratio is an astounding 479:1 (give or take). But sometimes, like all wage slaves, I have to work. And when I do, I need post-its and the people who work with me need post-its. Contrary to the inventor of the FLYPOP nomenclature, I find these post-its to be extremely helpful and that they can nicely dress-up a rather drab document with the multi-colored flags and scrawled handwriting. The problem of course comes when my co-workers do not effectively use post-its. And by effectively, I mean they don't know how to stick a fucking post-it note on a piece of paper without making me pause to ask God why he has shat on me yet again. Just this morning I found a rather large stack of documents in my chair, each smartly labeled with a post-it stamped COPY or ORIGINAL and the date and the initials of our receptionist, who recently noted to me--beaming with pride--that she might be transferred to accounting if they can get someone to train her on payroll (wheee!). Before I go on--can I just give a shout out to receptionists and office managers? Those crappy, thankless jobs got me through college. Yes, it is possible to be a smartypants (a la me, now spreading my talent via another dead-end, thankless, but much higher paying job) and work as a receptionist. It's true that it doesn't take an advanced thinker to operate the photocopier (though next time I go to the copy room, I am sure the copier will revolt on me in defiance), but just because you *don't* have to think hard to make a copy doesn't mean you're incapable of bloom's taxonomy, as it were. That said, some people will be receptionist type people forever. Maybe they *could" ponder life's imponderables, find a loophole in the laws of thermodynamics, or be working on their doctorate in ReallyComplexSubjectMatterology, but it is clear that they elect not to and take the path of least resistance, which occasionally coincides with the path of greatest irritance. So back to this stack of documents in my chair, with the post-it labels. No, no good. We cannot attend to the documents yet. I'd like to be a bit more...hmm, metaphysical for a moment and pose a question to you, o' Internet/universe: How does one append a post-it to a document? A: Simple: pull note, using upward almost jerking motion from pad. Move note to desired location on document, adhesive side down, and press. Please note (note!) that at no time did I say that one should GLUE (with actual glue) the unattached end/side to the document. There's no glue involved. None at all. Post-its--thanks to the genius of the built in mild-adhesive, do not require accessories. The closest thing to a post-it kit involves many sizes, shapes, and colors of this wonder note. There's no glue. No glue. And now to the realm of the physical: Can someone please explain to me then WHY I have spent the better part of my morning removing post-its which will not be removed, only to find that the culprit is this inexplicably used additional adhesive????????? It is NOT necessary to kill an ant using a sledgehammer, folks. A tap with a shoe will do. Do not glue the post-it. There's no glue involved in post-its. And there should not be traces and bits of hot pink post-its on these documents which will be used as exhibits in a legal deposition next week. Receptionist person: I understand that you're a human being that makes mistakes. I understand that you have a job that, when I had it, left me weeping almost daily and questioning the significance of my existance (my how times haven't changed!). But I just want you to know: You will NEVER make it to accounting if we cannot get past this little post-it note issue. You can look away, but I think we both know this has happened before. I now return to my regularly scheduled clockwatching. Happy Friday, all. webmaster@craigslist.org 2004-04-30T10:35:28-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/30043543.html Memo Basically About Post-Its text Maybe we shared a womb, but CL ain't big enough.... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/21516553.html OH MY GOD! As if I didn't have enough of a horrible holiday because of you and your maniacal girlfriend and your loud, filthy sex, you, my brother, responded to my casual encounters posting last night. I think I speak for every ounce of my being when I exclaim: WHATTHEFUCK!!!!! Look, I realize you have needs, too, especially after having met your girlfriend. But frankly, considering the amount of sex you had this holiday week/weekend and the amount I had to listen to, not to mention how I had to put up with you and your foul stench* during "family time," among enduring other family drama, I needed last night!!! But NO, you were among the first to respond and do you even THINK I could go on after that? I had to sterilize my MF computer. I had to wash myself like I was going into the goddamn operating room. I was the daughter Howard Hughes didn't have. In short, I was completely traumatized. I know Craigslist is anonymous and all, but for fuck's sake....ahhh! Yesterday when we parted ways at our parents' house, I came back to Houston to my job and my life and you were off to whereverthefuck you're loafing these days. Couldn't you have stayed there? Can't I even have freaking Houston CL casual encounters to myself for one night?! So if you emailed me last night and I never responded, you know why. I was busy going into cardiac arrest and lysol-ing my soul after being hit up for sex by my BROTHER. Happy goddamn new year. And P.S. to all the people who continued to email me today: I said TONIGHT ONLY last night. That meant LAST NIGHT ONLY. That goes for the people who emailed me into the wee hours, as well. Don't you people have jobs? Oh wait, no. Because one of you is my BROTHER!!! *foul stench= No, I'm not retarded. I know you were in the garage getting high when you said you were out there "looking around." Oh yeah, and mom already knew when I told her. Just like old times, pothead brother. Just like old times. webmaster@craigslist.org 2003-12-29T09:50:46-06:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/21516553.html Maybe we shared a womb, but CL ain't big enough.... text