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 2008-04-14T02:09:06-07:00 2 daily http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/641609489.html Needs muffler, as it is currently VERY LOUD. Intake valve is stuck in the open position. <br> <br> Rear end needs major overhaul. A crack there has grown monstrously large. <br> <br> Needs re-wiring—Many wires are currently crossed. <br> <br> Lots of little dings in the body, which have been covered up with too much paint in a <br> failed effort at camouflaging them. <br> <br> Needs re-upholstering—Carpet has turned a dingy gray. <br> <br> Needs front-end work--Tits are too close to the ground, and knees are too far apart. <br> <br> May not pass emissions test, as it currently produces foul clouds of malodorous gases on a regular basis, <br> <br> Heater works great. Hot air is never in short supply.. <br> <br> Asking $500 or trade for 1984 model. <br><br> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-04-14T02:09:06-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/641609489.html For Sale—One (1) Wife, slightly used, 1964 Model text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/596842076.html for the life of me, i can't seem to figure out what's going on here. i did all the things that i thought i was supposed to do to put myself in position to score ungodly amounts of hollywood poon. i got an undergrad degree in business from nyu. then i move to LA and complete the Peter Stark producing program at USC. while there i take full advantage of the networking and resume building connections that such an educational stint provides. i graduate and get a job with a major studio. i have a business card with my name on it. under my name is my job title. <br> <br> "producer." <br> <br> so where are the legions of young starlets aching for me to tongue-fuck their puckered brown-eyes? <br> <br> i mean, look, when i was 15 i read robert evans' autobiography, "the kid stays in the picture." there i was, short, mildly chubby, pimple-faced, cursed with a hideous jewfro, unable to get even a nut massage from the homeliest looking humans at horace mann in possession of vaginas, but i figured that if portly, profusely perspirating gasbags like don simpson can have bitches cat-fighting over who gets to blow the next rail off of his diseased cock, certainly i can get laid modestly well if i became a producer. <br> <br> now i go out to parties and clubs and tell women that i'm a producer and they look at me as if i told them that i have fucking SARS! every night ends with me cruising pornotube at 3am in search of just the right clip to sufficiently inspire me to rub one out into a goldtoe nylon sock. <br> <br> WTF?! <br> <!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=West Hollywood -->Location: West Hollywood <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-03-05T16:22:34-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/596842076.html i'm a producer dammit, why won't women have sex with me?! text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/549480594.html Dear Computer Science Professor, <br> <br> You're not that attractive. If I thought you were the type that drank beer, I would say that your beer belly extends over your belt in a pretty gross way. But since, in my imagination, I picture you as more of a body shot kind of guy, I'm guessing you have an unhealthy love of pizza and other carbohydrates that will one day lead to severely clogged arteries and possibly an early death. You are in your late twenties (I think), yet you still have baby fat on your face, and you don't shave. You think you are much funnier than you actually are, you use 1337 speak when you lecture, and you have spent multiple semesters in the same classroom without realizing that the same whiteboard markers have been there the whole time and they WILL NEVER work. Please buy new ones. <br> <br> Now, I don't think I'm the hottest girl to ever walk this earth, but I have my admirers. I'm young, I'm thin, I've got a nice rack and a cute butt, and I'd consider myself a solid 7.5 or even an 8 or an 8.5 on a good day. If you tried to approach me at a bar, my friends would laugh in your face. If we met anywhere else but in the classroom, I'd say I'm out of your league and you should go find some older chubby chick you could eat pizza in front of the television with. <br> <br> Since we met in class, however, things are different. See, I have this really twisted tendency to lust after men in positions of authority. Maybe it's because I never met my father, or because I like to be dominated in bed, I don't know. The point is, Computer Science Professor, that I want you. Bad. It's getting to the point that going to class makes me uncomfortable because I'm fantasizing about you so much I'm afraid I'm making googly eyes at you when you talk. You know what's even worse? My ex boyfriend is in the class with me. And I think he knows I want you. And I don't think you know that he's my EX. But he is. So, you know, if you ever want to invite me to your office hours, lock the door, clear off your desk, bend me over and fuck me 'til I scream, you're welcome to, because I'm unattached. <br> <br> So, dear computer science professor, if you see this, I just want you to know that I want you in a completely unhealthy way. I'm not really the casual sex type (in fact, I haven't had sex in over a year) but I think I could waive that rule for you. It would be pretty cool if we could exchange sex for grades, but that's up to you. I'd settle for the sex. I don't do anal, but I give really good head. If you're interested, let me know. <br> <br> Lust, <br> Your B Student<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-01-23T17:57:28-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/549480594.html Dear Computer Science Professor - w4m text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/511745944.html Disclaimer: Before anyone thinks, "Fine you asshole. I hope you get nothing for Christmas!" please realize that I don't want or need anything for Christmas. In fact, that is the whole point here. I'm 26 and have a nice career. If I need something, I don't ask Santa for it. I fucking buy it like an adult. What do I want for Christmas? I don't know....sleep I guess. What I can tell you is this: Here are some things that I don't want this holiday season: <br> <br> #1. Novelty Boxer Shorts <br> <br> Unless the woman you’re trying to seduce has a fantasy about fucking a clown, there’s no reason to ever be wearing underwear covered in images of Snoopy and Charlie Brown. “But it’s a holiday theme!” Terrific, but that doesn’t change the fact that the girl I’m undressing in front of is now trying to decide whether to fuck me or read me a Bernstein Bears story. <br> <br> #2. Whatever “For Dummies” book pertains to the career I’m actively pursuing <br> <br> I know that certain scientific laws make it impossible to give gifts that aren’t tangible like “running” or in this case, “spitting in my face,” but I must say, you’ve come close with your choice to give me this, “For Dummies” book. I know you don’t understand what I do for a living, but just because Michael Douglas didn’t pay for a limo to drop me off at the party you shouldn’t assume that I’m failing miserably. Your lack of faith wouldn’t be more obvious if you just gave me a job application to Wal-Mart. <br> <br> #3. The DVD first season of some short-lived, completely forgettable show <br> <br> There is absolutely no reason anyone (including Andy Griffith) should ever need to have instant access to any specific episode of Matlock. Is this one where Matlock wastes the court’s time to make reference to his love of Southern cooking or is it the one where the black guy goes to a seedy bar and uses his street smarts to wrangle information? The whole point of daytime television is to bore people into canning the “I’m sick” bullshit so they can get back to work. <br> <br> #4. The gift from the out of touch relative who thinks I’m 2 decades younger than I actually am <br> <br> A vintage Star Wars lunch box! Oh neat, it even snaps shut so there’s no way my sandwich, chips, or chances of ever having sex again will fall out. Perfect. I’ll set it on top of that dresser I keep my baseball cards in. Honestly, if I didn’t use my penis to urinate, your gifts would make me forget that I have one. <br> <br> #5. The Obvious Last-Minute Gift <br> <br> Forgive me if I can’t honestly believe that your intention a month ago was to get me a porcelain cat figurine for Christmas despite my never owning a cat and even going out of my way to express my intense hatred for cats. We’ve all been there, but next time you’re picking up a gift for me at the gas station on the way to my house, go ahead and just grab some beer. And if you don’t mind grabbing the mail on the way in, I’d love that too. <br> <br> #6. The really small gift card for the big, expensive store <br> <br> Wow, $10 to Barney’s New York! Now if I can just scrape together another 10 out of my own pocket, they’ll let me lie on the floor while the night janitor urinates on my chest and face. <br> <br> #7. Any type of donation being made in my name <br> <br> Even though I think Karma is merely a way to keep morons from enjoying themselves, I do know that if it does exist, it doesn’t work like a gift card. In other words, I can’t do something nice and have the Karma points be added to your account. If you really want to distract God from what a huge asshole I am, just help me build this brick wall in front of the hooker I’m about to have sex with. <br> <br> #8. Christmas decorations <br> <br> Gifts that offer a type of delayed satisfaction are fine when it’s something like concert tickets. However, giving someone a Christmas decoration as a gift on Christmas will make people hope aloud that you didn’t drive yourself there. In fact, it’s so ridiculous; it actually creates feelings of sadness and pity rather than disbelief. Your friends and family will wonder if you even know how the holiday works. Some might even wonder why you didn’t just take it to the max and hand out coupons offering to help shovel dirt onto their coffin after they’ve passed away. <br> <br> #9. Involvement in any type of office gift swap thing <br> <br> Whoever declared that the process of a 2-hour exchange of gag gifts was funny needs to slip back into their coma for a few more years. “Oh ha! You got me a half a deck of playing cards and I got you Fun Dip! Hilarious!” The only reason assholes like Scrooge make their employees work late on Christmas Eve is because from 10am to 3pm, those same employees were pissing away company money with trivial gift exchanges. Wrapping up boxes of paper clips and handing them out as gifts isn’t entertaining. It’s a sign of Alzheimer’s. <br> <br> #10. A starter set for some obscure hobby I have zero interest in and am pretty sure you also have zero interest in. <br> <br> Alright! A butterfly net with a book about catching and identifying butterflies! Is there a head injury I’m going to have soon and don’t know about yet? If ever the day arrives that I’m reduced to the type of mongoloid who spends his days puttering around the backyard with a butterfly net, I give you full permission to take me down to the creek, tell me about the rabbit farm, and then blow my fucking brains out. <br> <br> #11. Any gift that serves as an attempt to include me in whatever cultish fad you’re currently wasting your time with. <br> <br> Yes, I’ve heard of The Secret and honestly I’m glad you’ve found something to momentarily distract you from the fact that your job is slowly driving you to suicide and you’re about a spilled drink on the couch away from your third divorce. However, because I don’t see you often enough to warrant showing any real concern with your life, please realize that it’s just easier for me smile and nod in response to whatever cup of poisonous Kool-Aid you happen to be drinking at the moment than to give you my honest opinion. All I ask is that you just leave me the hell out of it. I’m pretty into porn, but you won’t see me trying to throw that at you…except for redtube.com. It’s pretty impressive with the search engine and what not. <br> <br> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!! <br> <!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Santa Monica -->Location: Santa Monica <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-12-17T01:25:08-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/511745944.html Things I DON'T Need for Christmas text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/508818312.html I am making a small book and needs fact in regard to End of the world. If you believe that now is the end of the world and you have solid fact I will buy the info from you for $5.00 each fact, For example you can say: According to ABCD- EFG this is the end of the world. I need a total of 200 solid believable facts it equals $1000. I will buy as little as 1 fact for $5.00 All payments are done by paypal.com please do-not email any facts until you have talked to me and you get a confirmation. You can call or email for us to call you back. <br> <a href="http://karimmovies.com/" rel="nofollow">http://karimmovies.com/</a> <br> 23852 pch #720 <br> malibu,ca.90265 <br> 310-488-0403 <br> <a href="http://imdb.com/company/co0174530/" rel="nofollow">http://imdb.com/company/co0174530/</a><!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Hollywood -->Location: Hollywood <li> <!-- CLTAG compensation=$1000 -->Compensation: $1000 <li> Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster. <li> Please, no phone calls about this job! <li> Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-12-13T22:18:18-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/508818312.html Writer / End Of The World. text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/483318927.html I see this question posted with some regularity in the personals section, so I thought I'd take a minute to explain things to the ladies out there that haven't figured it out. <br> <br> What happened to all the nice guys? <br> <br> The answer is simple: you did. <br> <br> See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He'd tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn't feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you. <br> <br> At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were "just friends." Besides, he totally wasn't your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fat, or too poor, or didn't know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease. <br> <br> Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren't the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship. So, now, you're single again, and after having tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and douche bags, you wonder, "What happened to all the nice guys?" <br> <br> Well, once again, you did. <br> <br> You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive "just-a-" friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren't really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you're upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he'd have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an asshole than he ever wanted to be. <br> <br> Fact is, now, he's probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I'm sorry that it took the complete absence of "nice guys" in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that. <br> <br> So, if you're looking for a nice guy, here's what you do: <br> <br> 1.) Build a time machine. <br> 2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your ass. <br> 3.) Take a look at what's right in front of you and grab ahold of it. <br> <br> I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don't really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you. <br> <br> If you were five years younger. <br> <br> So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you've fucked yourself over. You're getting older, after all. It's time to excise the bullshit and deal with reality. You didn't want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn't fucking want you, now. <br> <br> Sincerely, <br> <br> A Recovering Nice Guy<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=LA -->Location: LA <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-19T03:52:35-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/483318927.html "What Happened to All the Nice Guys?" text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/351233174.html Do you own a bird? Do you live on Rossmore Avenue? If so, I'm afraid I must give you some bad news: Your bird is possessed by the Devil. <br> <br> I know, it's never easy to hear this. But I have 40 years experience doing exorcisms for the church, and there is no other explanation for the Pterodactyl-like screeching sounds it makes day and night. In my expert opinion, the only way to set your bird free is to literally set it free. Open a window and allow it to fly away. <br> <br> Knowing that your bird won't have the same captive audience in every resident of Rossmore Avenue, The Prince of Darkness will reluctantly release his grip on your bird's soul. If you want your bird to live in peace, this is the only way. Also moving to a new neighborhood will do the trick.<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Hancock Park -->Location: Hancock Park <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-06-13T08:30:42-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/351233174.html Bad News About The Screeching Bird on Rossmore...... text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/336540406.html Hi there. I am a gay man living in Los Angeles. Let me just say that I have many women friends. And I applaud the open-minded, progressive attitudes most straight women seem to have nowadays. <br> <br> However, I have noticed that we've crossed over into a place where some women are just a little too comfortable with homosexuality. "Too much tolerance" you say? I'll explain. <br> <br> Honestly, I am flattered when a woman says something along the lines of "you're cute. Too bad you're not straight." That's nice to hear. I'm not going into some PC tirade over a compliment. You know what though? I only need to hear it once. My friend's friend says it every time I see her. She does the rubbing my upper back back, hands in my hair shit. And you know what I want to say? "LISTEN. My being gay isn't the only reason it would never happen." Like, back the fuck up. And she's also volunteered to be my beard at events. "Great, we'll time travel to the 1950s when people in LA last did that." <br> <br> I think "Will and Grace" has instructed an entire generation of women that gay men are dying - DYING! - to be your friend and indulge your every co-dependent and neurotic whim. We'll be there in a clinch with a "you go girl!" or "you look fierce!" Because we all love to say that stuff and many other quippy zingers. <br> <br> Last Monday night, a woman at a bar came up to me and asked me if I was single. Not to disparage her, but let's just say I was happy to shut her down right away with an abrupt "I'm gay." And you know what? THAT DID NOT DETER HER. <br> <br> She LIT up and said, "We can go shopping together and you can watch me play with myself with my Rabbit." <br> <br> Ugggggghhhh... Do you ever not even know where to begin? <br> <br> I wanted to say, "Yes, please, I am in the habit of befriending bar skanks in the first ten seconds of talking to them. And despite my lack of sexual attraction to women, I would simply LOVE to watch you get yourself off. JACKPOT!" <br> <br> As far as the shopping thing goes: I love saying "I'm not really into shopping" and I just stand back and wait for their heads to explode. Their precious "Will and Grace" never prepared them for that possibility! <br> <br> Call me uptight but I'm also against using the word "fag" aimed at me in some joking, campy way to demonstrate how comfortable you are with my being gay. This has happened to me. It's like a folksy gay-bashing without the exclamation point of the beatings. Let's from now on consult what I call "The Nigger Test" to see if a carefree epithet really is appropriate. The way it works is that when you want to call me "fag" you imagine instead that I'm black and that you're going to call me "nigger" in some whimsical, ironic way. If you would in fact drop the N bomb, then by all means, proceed! <br> <br> Also, please refrain from referring to your gay friend as "my Will" or yourself as "Grace." That's totally queer. It was an okay show that's been off the air for over a year. Move on. <br> <br>And lastly, just because you know another gay man who is single DOES NOT MEAN WE WOULD MAKE A PERFECT MATCH. I appreciate the desire to see me paired up but most women (or straight men who attempt this) think pairing up gays is as difficult as a game of Concentration. "Hey... there's one... there's another... done!" "This guy you want to pair me up with... what does he like to do in his free time? Does he vote? Does he read? Like to go out? Stay in? You don't know? So you just know his name and sexual orientation." PASS. And while I've got nothing against the uber-feminine gay men, and respect that they have a much tougher path than gay men who seem straight, please do not fix me up with them. Because I am not attracted to them, which you would know if you'd asked any of the pertinent questions before acting as a one-woman Match.com. <br> <br> In closing, I am a friendly guy and like knowing people from all walks of life. But straight girls, just dial down the desperation level a couple of notches and find a more constructive way to deal with the void that the cancellation of "Sex and the City" has left in your life. (Full disclosure: I'm a total Miranda!) If we're meant to be friends, you'll let me breathe and know me for me, not as the hot urban accessory of the gay male friend. Thank you. I feel so much better.<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Los Angeles -->Location: Los Angeles <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-05-22T22:30:29-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/336540406.html A Memo to Straight Women Seeking A Gay Male Friend text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/302677766.html Hi, I’m your elevator. Before you ride me I'd like to give you a brief tutorial to ensure maximum enjoyment. <br> <br> First, let’s talk about how to get on me. <br> <br> Button Pressing: <br> When waiting for an elevator precisely none or all of the soon-to-be riders should press the button to call for the elevator. Any number in between is unacceptable. <br> <br> Holding the Door: <br> Upon entering/exiting the elevator there shall be an understood, but unspoken, competition between male riders to see who can go to the greatest length to hold the door open. This will often result both doors being held open for an excessive period of time. The competition shall not end until a minimum of three “Go ahead”s, accompanied by head motions, have been exchanged. <br> Exceptions: <br> 1. If an unsavory rider (Fat, homeless, from a rival firm etc.) is attempting to board the elevator all passengers may claim to have not seen them. In the event eye contact with the undesirable rider-to-be has been made, passengers should claim to have not been able to locate the ‘Open Door’ button in time. <br> <br> Congratulations, you’ve made it on me! Now let's discuss the correct configuration for X number of riders. <br> <br> There are two of you? Person A goes in the near corner, person B goes in the opposite corner, furthest from person A. This is similar to the distribution of men at public urinals. <br> <br> If two people know each other and the third is a stranger, the former should stand next to each other at a spot of their choosing and the latter should stand at the spot furthest from the pairing. If all thee persons are unknown to each other then they shall form an equilateral triangle with all parties as far from each other as space permits. This shall also apply to groups of three where all parties are known to each other. <br> <br> For groups of four each person shall stand in one corner of the elevator, regardless of relationship between the riders. In the event of a round or other oddly shaped elevator the geometric shape providing the most distance between riders shall be used. This may be a square, rectangle, parallelogram, rhombus, or trapezoid. Consult the nerdiest looking person on the elevator for guidance. <br> <br> For five or more people the rules are simple. The configuration of passengers is not important. All that matters is the number of people mentioning how crowded the elevator is. See Exception 4 of ‘Talking on the Elevator’ <br> <br> Now that we’ve got that squared away, let’s discuss situations that may arise while riding me. <br> <br> Foul Odors: <br> In the event it becomes clear that someone has passed gas or any other undesirable human generated smell is present it shall not be mentioned until all parties have exited the elevator. <br> Exceptions: <br> 1. In situations where the passengers are comprised of both parties known to each other and strangers, it shall be acceptable for discussion to commence once all strangers have exited the elevator. The discussion shall be limited to blaming the strangers. <br> 2. In social situations where all parties are male and well known to each other it shall be acceptable to fart as loudly as possible. Silent but deadly farts are not permitted. <br> <br> Disabled Riders: <br> In the event a handicapped (wheelchair bound, retarded, blind etc.) attempts to get on the elevator all parties, regardless of relationship, shall immediately cram as far back as possible. Immediate offers of assistance shall be made. After elevator riding is concluded one or more parties shall mention how noble it is of the disabled person to continue working despite their affliction. This will be done out of earshot of the person in question. (Note: One joke about the blind guy driving to work, the deaf guy answering the phone, the wheelchair guy getting the best parking spot etc. shall be permitted provided the person proffering the joke precedes it with a statement about how "he is going to hell for this") <br> <br> Talking on the Elevator: <br> There will be no talking on the elevator, even amongst persons known to each other. Exceptions: <br> 1. A head nod coupled with a short, but firm, "hi" is acceptable. Please note this also is similar to men’s bathroom etiquette. <br> 2. If you are an asshole carrying a Blackberry please continue your conversation once boarding the elevator. You should be sure to double the volume of your voice. Also, sales figures should be needlessly mentioned and automatically rounded up to the nearest billion, regardless of accuracy. <br> 3. Conversations about how there is never any conversation on elevators are permitted. Discussing the irony therein is not permitted. <br> 4. When five or more riders are present it is mandatory to make mention of this. At least one reference to the weight/passenger limit of the elevator should be made. <br> <br> Floor Requirements: <br> All elevator riders are required to travel a minimum of 2 floors. Ex. If you are on the first floor and you press the button for the second floor, all other passengers are entitled to give you the evil eye for the duration of the ride. <br> Exceptions: <br> 1. If you are actually disabled. See section on ‘Disabled Riders’. <br> <br> Eye Contact: <br> Making prolonged eye contact on the elevator is strictly forbidden. If a rider finds himself meeting eyes with another rider both shall immediately cast their gaze upon the floor. The rider who can correctly identify the shoes of all the other riders wins. <br> Exceptions: <br> 1. When two or more male passengers are known to each other, brief eye contact and a knowing smile are acceptable after an attractive female, which they have both obviously eye-fucked, exits the elevator. One of the male parties is also allowed, but not required, to proclaim “Daaamn” after the doors have fully shut. The length of the ‘aaa’ shall correspond to the hotness of the female. A vulgar explanation of “what I’d do to that ass” is also acceptable. <br> 2. Provided there are no other passengers on the elevator, a rider is allowed to stare down the blind guy, just for shits and grins. If, through some form of extrasensory perception, the blind guy notices, he is allowed to hit the other rider with his cane or allow his dog one free bite on a body part of his choosing. <br> 3. See ‘Floor Requirements’ <br> <br> Getting off: <br> Once the rider has reached his chosen floor he should promptly exit the elevator before allowing other passengers on. It may be necessary to use elbows and/or briefcases to fend off overanxious riders-to-be. Use force liberally. <br> Exceptions: <br> 1. If the hot girl from marketing is getting on the elevator it is permissible to delay exiting long enough to ‘accidentally’ brush up against her. <br> <br> I hope you enjoyed riding me as much as I enjoyed being taken for a ride! <br> <br> Signed, <br> <br> Your Elevator <br> <!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Office buildings everywhere -->Location: Office buildings everywhere <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-03-29T13:17:09-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/302677766.html So you want to ride me? text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/263401527.html Dear Colette, <br> <br> You've been the only neighbor in my building to actually look me in the eye and say "hello" since I moved here two years ago. Thank you. When my laundry is done and you need to use the machine, instead of wadding it up and dumping it on the laundry room table I know it's you that folds my little black panties and places them neatly back in my basket. Thank you. You live next door to me and I've learned to live with your tacky plaster fish molds that sit next to your door on top of the fire alarm, probably causing a fire hazard. It's ok that you have awful taste. You're sixty years old, and you don't wear a bra which might be why your breasts and belt are on the same parallel, but hey, you smell like my grandma so I like you regardless. Also, is your hair naturally maroon? It matches your blush splendidly. Tammy Faye would be jealous. <br> <br> Now recently I've noticed a man that made my high school geometry teacher look like Don Juan parking behind your car in our lot. He terrifies me and tucks his t shirts into his khaki pants that are hiked way too high up on his twinkie loving gut. The image of you two in the same room haunts me, but please... <br> <br> Please... <br> <br> For the love of Sweet Baby Jesus... <br> <br> STOP fucking him when I'm home too!! <br> <br> We are dealing with paper thin walls here! I hear every little breathy "Oh yes" and your t shirt tucking friend sounds like he's playing football instead of making love. Do you like that grunt he makes when he comes? Maybe I'm wrong, maybe you just really like to watch him pass gall stones because that's what it sounds like he's doing. <br> <br> Gross. Stop. Please. <br> <br> Amen for getting some at your age, but honestly, I'm gone every evening from 5:30 to midnight. Can you do it then? <br> <br> Sincerely, <br> Your Neighbor <!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-01-16T02:13:17-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/263401527.html Thank you for folding my laundry, please stop having sex. text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/184295834.html You do everything you can for your kids. God knows I've tried. But it seems like God enjoys a good joke, now and then. <br> <br> I was raised in a strict household. My parents bore offspring from the early-50's to the mid-60's. I was around the middle of this brood. With nine mouths to feed, we did not have a lot of extras. We worked for simple things, like bicycles. <br> <br> Nothing wrong with that. It's what we knew. And we were given a great foundation, on which we could create a life for ourselves. As I said, my parents were strict - which made me not wish to be such with my kids. <br> <br> Ah, my kids... I'm in my forties, and the wife is a bit younger. I make a fine income, and try not to sweat anything. I get up... have coffee... look out at the ocean... read the paper... move onto my business. <br> <br> I appreciate not having a house full of screaming kids in the morning (something that was impossible when I grew up). All I ask of my kids is to; a) be respectful of everyone, b) be honest c) get good grades, d) clean their rooms. <br> <br> I do not ask for much, nor do I demand much. However... that is going to change tonight. Events that occurred this morning will bring about change like these kids have never known. The wife has kept me in the dark about some things as well. <br> <br> It's my fault. I accept it. But I can reverse this downward trend - now. My generation (baby-boomers) has found that it is easier to go around a wall, than climb over over it - or knock it down. I'm as guilty as anyone. <br> <br> My guilt turned into rage this morning. My son (and my wife) convinced me that he NEEDED a car (he's seventeen). I was not keen on a kid driving, that has trouble standing a surfboard, or walking down the stairs without tripping. <br> <br> But I relented (again, why fight it). With some stipulations, we aquired a car for this child. The rules were put in place, and he proclaimed we were the greatest parents in the worls. Uh huh... It's 12:00pm, and he has yet to get out of bed. His mother has been instructed to tell my prodigy that he is GROUNDED. We have never done this, but we are today. And I mean GROUNDED in his room! <br> <br> Not out by the pool. Not in the gameroom. His cluttered abode is where he better be when I get home tonight. And I'm going to be stopping for a drink, first. I deserve a drink after this morning. Let me tell you about my day. <br> <br> I go out to my car in the driveway (I have a three-car garage - and "hers" is the only one that fits inside). My insanely over-priced piece of shit refuses to start today (3rd time in 2 months - the car is 6-monthss old). Okay... I call 'AAA'; it will 45-60 minutes. No time to wait. Okay... I'm going to take my kids' car. <br> <br> I go in and retrieve the keys (everyone is till asleep @ 8am). I leave a note telling him to call me. His car is down the street at a friends house. Why? He claimed that our driveway was too crowded (and the other kids might scratch it). <br> Okay... I find his car... set off the alarm... Shit! People, one word; LOJACK. Goddamn, I hate those alarms. <br> <br> Anyways I get in the car, after noticing the REALLY nice rims & tires on it. Hmmm, how did he pay for those? WHEN, did he get those? I get in, and notice a new STEERING WHEEL... without the AIRBAG - that I demanded he have. Oh, this car is totally bitchin' dude! It gets better... <br> <br> I start it up... A huge racket comes from the exhaust (not stock anymore!)... And the stereo starts screaming out profanities! The backseat is now occupied by a huge box with speakers in it... and fast-food trash... and 'ziz-zag' papers... and empty 'trojan' wrappers (a chip off the 'ole block). <br> <br> To say the least I am pissed. I proceed to drive this rattling, screaming (I tear the faceplate off - finally), piece of doo-doo down the road. I swear, I think I awakened everyone in the neighborhood. I head out onto PCH, and drive less than a mile... when MB's finest pulls me over... <br> <br> WTF? I know I wasn't speeding. The officer comes up to the car, and asks for my license and insurance card... I hand over the license, and tell him I'm not sure where the insurance card is - 'it's my son's car'... "look in the glovebox" (he is - actually - smiling now)... <br> <br> I open the glovebox... and a small BONG falls out... I look at him... he looks at me... This is not happening! Oh, but it is. The first thing I say is 'it's not mine!'... "um, sir, could you step out of the car, please"... <br> <br> I get out, and we step onto the sidewalk. He tells me he stopped me for having an illegal exhaust (no shit - it sounds like two-dozen weedwhackers coming down the street). He also informs me that there are plenty more violations on this car... And I start laughing... He asks why am I laughing... And I tell him how my day is going. <br> <br> "What about the water-pipe?" Indeed! I inform him that this is all a surprise to me, but I would like him to write up everything that is illegal about the vehicle. He looks at me like I'm crazy. But I want my kid to learn a lesson. <br> <br> And the officer obliges me. He, even, finds some weed in the trunk... 17 tickets later, we are finished... almost... I ask him if I can keep all of the drug paraphenalia? "Why?" I want my kid to destroy it. I want this kid to know his "fuck-off" days are over. <br> <br> The officer agrees. I could see he was wishing he could be there tonight, for the "lesson". He was pretty decent about the whole thing. This guy took, almost, a half-hour to go through all of this paperwork - and search. I thank him, and head out... He tells me if I get stopped again today, that I should show all the citations to the other officer - and I should not have any problems... <br> <br> Problems?!! We have problems. I have lost control of my family. My wife is a co-conspirator. She has just been told that I want a listing of all of our household bills & accounts. 'Yes, dear - we are going to perform an audit'. She is protesting, but I do not care. This is war. <br> <br> I know my family loves me, but they have played me for a fool. I may be a fool, but I am not dumb. She does not know that I just found out my son is in Summer school, because of bad grades. She doesn't know that DMV has provided me with her, and his, records; apparently they have a problem with obeying traffic laws. <br> <br> It's not going to be easy, but something must be done. I swear, I feel like I have become my father... I want the best for my family, and feel something radical must happen. I can only hope they - truly - understand it is for our own good. <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> Some things that will be addressed tonight; <br> <br> 1) Son's vehicle is gone; oil up that chain on your bicycle. <br> 2) All three kids will empty out the garage; sell it/ donate it/ whatever. <br> 3) Mom will have a household budget. <br> 4) Chores - that's right; everyone will have assigned chores. <br> 5) Chores will be done, before anything else. <br> 6) Homework will be done daily, before dinner. * Or, immediately after sports events, but always prior to 10pm. <br> 7) Son's tickets will be paid with his allowance. <br> 8) Son is grounded for the rest of the summer. <br> 9) Son will study from 8am until 4pm - daily, durint the rest of summer vacation. <br> 10) Videogames are banned from 10pm until 6pm - daily. <br> 11) Everyone will be up by 8am - daily. <br> 12) The youngest child is on a diet - now. <br> 13) Mother will inform father of ALL infractions. <br> 14) Dad will be home by 6pm - daily. <br> 15) Everyone will eat dinner, together. <br> 16) Mom will cook dinner - and it better not come out of the microwave. <br> 17) The maid is being given four weeks notice. * That is going to be fun - I may not see a sexual interlude for awhile. <br> 18) Dad is getting a new car, and parking it in his garage. <br> 19) Son may get a USED car, when his grades are A's & B's, for two - consecutive - semesters. <br> 20) Mom and son are to attend driving school. <br> 21) Son will explain drug usage - completely, or face rehab & boarding school. <br> 22) Mom will be weaned off of her "medications"; NOW. <br> 23) Children will make their own lunches, for school; no more money for shitty school food. <br> 24) NO soda. Maybe, when we dine out. Maybe, on the weekends. <br> 25) NO MySpace accounts, or any other assinine accounts - a computer geek will check all of their computers - monthly (they need fear put into their lives). <br> 26) Dad will attend all school functions. <br> 27) Everyone will be present for all birthdays. <br> 28) Children will wear clothes that Dad approves of. <br> 29) Mom will dress daughter like a little girl; not a 'hoochie-mama'. * and - definitely - no "juicy" pants on her bottom! <br> 30) Daughter will not have any underwear, except for briefs. <br> 31) Sons will not be told to pull up their pants, or face having said pants donated. <br> 32) NO 'Rap' music, within Dad's hearing range. <br> 33) NO tattoos, until you are out of my house. <br> 34) NO piercings (except for daughter's ears), until you are out of my house. <br> 35) NO dyeing of hair, until you are out of my house. <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> Did I miss something? <br> <br> <br> <br> I'm continuing to add to the list... <br> <br> <br> <br> Tell me if I missed something... <br> <br> <br> <br> Tell me if I'm wrong... <br> <br> <br> <br> I've seen those "wife-swap" & "nanny" shows... <br> <br> <br> <br> I hate to think that is my life... <br> <br> <br> <br> Wish me luck... <br> <br> <br> <br> I may be sleeping on the patio tonight...<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Long Letter From Manhattan Beach -->this is in or around Long Letter From Manhattan Beach<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-20T13:39:37-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/184295834.html My Son Is A Moron... He Did Not Come From My Loins... text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182862349.html Don't even fucking say a word. I like potato chips, and can't eat them very much or I'll get fat. <br> <br> I tried out these Pringles Fat-Free chips because they were super low-cal. BBQ flavor. the fuck. <br> <br> The can said they had 70 calories per serving, which meant the whole can had 490 calories inside total. I could munch through a can in a day with my lunch, dinner, etc. So I got several cans, and began enjoying one a day for the past four days. But what they dont fucking tell you... <br> <br> <font size="1">Except in tiny print you cant read without a fucking electron microscope</font> <br> <br> ...is that the primary ingredient is something called "olean" which I have since learned is Latin for "Unwashable & Indestructible Ass Grease." <br> <br> Oh Yeah. I'm not even kidding. <br> <br> So today, while I'm standing in the living room debating whether or not Laundry or Dishes will get done first, I get the urge to fart. I live alone, so sweet. I let the honk loose and its wrong. Something just sounded wrong. I know my own wind, and I have never farted a sound that sounded like a fart wrapped in a pillow. <br> <br> Oh yes, something was very wrong. I had just shat myself. But this evil olean makes shitting yourself sound almost like a regular fart, and had I not been particularly attentive, it could easily have gone unnoticed, I'm telling you. THAT's how utterly covert and evil this olean stuff is. What the fuck?! What if I'd gone out to hang with friends or gone for a drive, what then? <br> <br> So I walk carefully to the bathroom and disrobe. before I even sit on the toilet, I wad paper and carefully wipe from the front. Sure enough, it was light brown, and had the texture of soft spackle. You fucking Pringle bastards. <br> <br> I sat down and pushed a bit, and lo, out came a jet that I didnt even feel an urge for one minute earlier. It piled in the bowl like brown marshmallow fluff. <br> <br> The problem rose when I tried to wipe. I went through a whole fucking roll of TP and could not get it all off me. So. <br> <br> I jumped in the shower. Yep, its gross, but it had to be done. There I stood, water pouring down, cheeks spread, and using my own hand to make certain I'm clean. <br> <br> That was when I discovered that after using my hand to wipe myself (before I soaped the area) my hand came back covered in some sort of transparent grease. It was so fucking foul. The grease made water bead off my hand. It was tacky too, and very difficult to manage. <br> <br> So I grabbed the bar of saop and went to work. <br> <br> You fucking Pringle bastards. <br> <br> The bar of soap came away coated in grease as well, and would no longer wash. I had to turn the water to hot and massage the soap for five minutes to get it to the point where I could use it again. It took me an hour to get the fucking grease off my pucker. I shudder to think of what its doing INSIDE ME right now, but I will damned sure never eat that shit again. <br> <br> Fucking Pringle bastards. <br> <br> This is where the joke about "anal leakage" came from. its real. Fuck Pringles.<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=ANAL LEAKAGE, ANYBODY? -->this is in or around ANAL LEAKAGE, ANYBODY?<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-17T02:10:53-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182862349.html DO NOT EAT PRINGLES FAT FREE POTATO CHIPS. THEY WILL GREASE YOUR ASS. text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182450622.html Dear Family, <br> <br> First off, let me say that I love you dearly. If I possibly could, I would spend every moment for the rest of my life with you. As we live in the Los Angeles area, it is necessary that I work full-time outside the home. Between shuttling Son to school and other activities, working in a busy office environment, and handling most of the household needs, I figure I get about 20 or so minutes a day of time to myself, with no one else present (10 of those minutes is the time it takes me to get to work after dropping off Son at school plus the time it takes for me to leave work and pick up Son). The other ten or so minutes of time I have to myself, I spend in the bathroom. <br> <br> Husband, I know we are very close, we don't hide anything from each other, and we are comfortable being naked around each other. Hell, I LOVE being naked with you. You fart around me, I fart around you, we have nothing to hide. However, when I am in the bathroom, I want to be left alone. I don't want you peeking in the bathroom that is adjacent to the living room when I am in it. I don't want you throwing the door wide open when I am in there. I don't want you looking at me when I am sitting on the pot, doing my business. I don't want you to watch me wipe. I especially don't want a hug or to kiss you and I REALLY don't wish to be fondled or touched in any way while I am taking a crap. I know you don't have any sense of personal boundaries when it comes to your wife, but I really don't feel my sexiest when I am pushing waste out of my asshole into the toilet. It's worse when I have gastrointestinal distress, because you will come in and laugh at the noises my bowels are making or critique the odor I have produced. Please, I beg you, leave me alone and when I come out I will be your perfect wife again. <br> <br> Son, I can't believe you're ten years old already. It seemed like just yesterday you were crying when you didn't get your way. Oh wait, that *was* yesterday. I mean, it seemed like just yesterday that you were in diapers and I was teaching you how to use the big boy toilet. I let you in the bathroom with me while I was doing my business because I wanted you to see that I was okay using the potty, I wasn't going to fall in or be eaten by some potty monster. I explained that boys have a weewee and girls don't. We went through that a very long time ago. You've since learned to aim (sorta) and wipe yourself (mostly) without me. So, honey, when I'm in the bathroom, please let me be. You want to ask permission for something? Go ask your dad. You need my help with your homework? Ask dad! He can't help you because it's English, science, math or anything other than history? Then go on to the next assignment and I'll help you when I'm done. You're hungry? Well then, I'll be sure to fix you some of the food I've got stashed next to the toilet paper and the crossword puzzle book we keep on the back of the tank. Please, I beg you, leave me alone and when I come out I'll make dinner and help you with your homework. <br> <br> Thank you, family, for giving me ten people-free minutes to go to the bathroom. When I'm in there, I'm usually trying to figure out what I'm going to make for dinner, what things we need from the store, when and where is Son's next baseball game, about what tragedy is going on at work, whether or not that blouse I want to wear tomorrow is clean/ironed, etc. So please, give me my space, and I'll give you yours.<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Home -->this is in or around Home<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-15T18:04:26-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/182450622.html RANT: Bathroom Time = Private Time! text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/167799119.html You: hot guy with the faux hawk, camos, and gonch undies with perfect tan line, 4% bodyfat, american apparel tri-blend track shirt, L7silvr phone, ipod nano on stairclimber reading DNA Magazine and drinking a Macchiato with nonfat foam. <br> <br> Me: buzzed cut, ripped tatted guy with 501's with a flash of ice blue aussie bum undies and wife beater chillin on my nano with some Eminem and texting my bros on my sidekick and drinking Twinlab Extreme Ripped Force Drink. <br> <br> We checked each other out for a millisecond there but I was too shy to appoach you. I definately felt there was some chemistry heating up and would like to take it to the next level. Hit me up if you wanna grab some coffee or a drink. Or dinner. <br> <br> Or maybe we could go on an Atlantis Gay Cruise together and they can take photos of us for the brochure with you on my shoulders in matching awning striped speedos looking tan and in love. <br> <br> Or maybe we could snap up a couple of French Bulldogs and name them Louis and Vuitton and have our portrait done with us in matching khakis and barefoot to send as a Christmas Card. <br> <br> Or maybe we could do a shit load of Tina and K and E and GHB and feel really hot and go to White Party in outfits made by BCBG and dance shirtless in the glistening sweat of the other manboys around us. <br> <br> Or maybe something about you can help me fill this desperate lonliness and emptiness that has been devouring me as I frantically chase an image and life of someone I will never be. Maybe I won't have to use words like "hit me up" and "grab coffee" and "bro" to mask the self loathing homophobia I possess, praying they will make me come across as butch and straight and hell, anything but the sad, starving, lonely, judgemental, bitter, cynical, poser, wannabe that I really am. <br> <br> Seriously Dude. Hit me up, if you are interested.<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Crunch Gym -->this is in or around Crunch Gym<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- <!-- CLTAG null -->it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-04T02:25:27-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/167799119.html hot guy with the faux hawk and straight 'tude at Crunch (YEAH YOU) - m4m text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/164198868.html You want more barter offers? Here are ten ways, based on the many usual posts found in this section, to get more barters: <br> <br> <b>Pretend to be a Healer, a Psychic or have Healing Stones or some power. </b> People love to think you’ve got some amazing power, like a super hero, and will trade just about anything for it. Of course if you really had such a power you wouldn’t be wasting your time trading it for a massage or a place to live in craigslist, you’d be on the cover of Time magazine, but most people are dumb. They’ll believe anything. <br> <br> <b>Wait until the very last minute to try and get rent money. </b>If you have to pay your rent but have no money, wait until the end of the month to ask for it. Even though you know at the beginning of the month you probably won’t have it, waiting until the very end will pull on people’s heart strings. No, they won’t think you’re irresponsible! They’ll think of you as a loveable lug in desperate need of rent money. You’ll probably end up with more money than you can handle. <br> <br> <b>Claim you make a lot of money for your services. </b>Pretend you make $200 a session for a massage or $150 an hour for webwork or $250 an hour for magical healing. People will be very impressed that you can demand so much for your services, they will be amazed that you’d be willing to trade those services for good to them. Of course, if you actually made those amounts, you wouldn’t have to make the trades, but people are dumb, they won’t realize it. The sky’s the limit as to what you can claim, so don’t be afraid. Think off all the stuff you can get when you claim you make $1000 an hour for lawn mowing! <br> <br> <b>Get a nice apartment or house for practically nothing. </b>There are tons of landlords and people in LA who have a spare house or apartment or even a master bedroom they’d be willing to trade for someone to fix their website, walk their dogs or walk around their house in a Speedo. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to get a great place for doing nothing. Remember: people are dumb. They don’t know that fixing a website isn’t worth a $1000 a month or walking dogs isn’t worth giving up their guest house. Think of all the stupid people in this town who work for a living and pay rent! The suckers! <br> <br> <b>Post your barter as much as you can. </b>Post it every day, three or four times a day if you can. This will not annoy anyone; in fact, it will show everyone how serious you are. People love to see someone with determination and the fact that you spend all your time reposting your barter will impress people, not irritate them. <br> <br> <b>Massages, massages, massages. </b>Massages are very, very hard to come by. Offering massages can get you practically anything. A new car, house, computer, camera…you name it! And if you want to get even more stuff, mention you normally make $175 an hour for massages, even if you don’t have a license! <br> <br> <b>Always trade in your favor.</b> Need a new computer? How about trading those unused flares in your trunk? Need a digital camera? What about that unused can of spam in the back of your cupboard? How about a new car? Offer your services of organizing papers! Remember, people are stupid. They will have no idea that you’re getting the better deal. It’s a craigslist barter staple: trade crap for something great! <br> <br> <b>People want sex! </b>If you’re a lonely 35 year old carpet layer or plumber and still can’t get a girlfriend, always remember there are plenty of hot women in LA who need a new carpet in their bedroom and are more than willing to trade sex for it. Or maybe the bathroom sink won’t stop dripping. Most women will gladly give themselves up for someone to come fix it. Why waste money on a legit plumber or carpet person when they can have some total stranger who posts in craigslist for sex? <br> <br> <b>Nudity goes a long way! </b>If you want something, just get naked! You can get anything. Need a $600 plane ticket? Just dance naked for three hours for someone! They won’t get bored! Who wouldn’t want to sit for three hours and watch a naked girl dance? Maybe you’re a 40 year old loser with a small winky-woo who likes to sunbathe in the backyard! Just offer that service! Maybe you just like to be naked period! You can get a house, a car…hey, the sky’s the limit when you like to be naked! Everyone wants to have a strange naked person in their house and will give up thousands of dollars worth of stuff for the privilege. <br> <br> <b>A complete lack of spelling and grammar will help you get more offers. </b>Write like a third grader! People love it when they have to read your barter numerous times to try and decipher what you’re looking for! It’s even better if you’re trading “writing services!” Remember, the stupider you appear, the more offers you’ll get! <br> <!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- <!-- CLTAG null -->it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-05-24T09:25:30-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/164198868.html Ten Tips to get more Barters!! text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/159346268.html Dear Disgusting Neighbor, <br> <br> I don't mind that you are fat. I don't mind that you are ugly. I don't mind that you have huge, purple patches of scaling psoriasis all over your body. I don't mind that you have fungus underneath your plastic, frosty pink fingernails (sadly, you've shown me more than once). And since I have a very high fence, I don't even mind if you have sex in your hot tub with your excessively hairy, chain-smoking, rotted front tooth, unwashed boyfriend any time of the day or night. But I DO mind being in the middle of a much-needed gardening project and being bombarded with 'OH GOD, OH GOD, YES, YES, OH GOD...' coming through the fence with such intensity and volume that my dogs stopped dead in their tracks, looked at the fence, looked at each other, looked at me and then fixated on the fence until you presumably 'came' (an hour later) and shut the hell up. <br> Now Neighbor, you know I work 12 to 16 hours a day for the majority of my waking life- in other words, I AM SELDOM HOME (you've made it abundantly clear that you keep track of my 'comings and goings') giving you unlimited time and space to do your loud rutting where ever and when ever you desire. So why, for the love of everything Holy, have you chosen to share your, 'DEEPER, DEEPER...'grunt, grunt, grunt, slap, qweef, grunt, 'DEEPER...YES, YEEEEEEES...' with me, my poor way-past-the-point-of-needing-to-be-in-dirt tomato seedlings and my worried dogs in the middle of my ONE measly day off? I'm not a prude, I'm not a religious fanatic and nobody likes a good, sweaty boink more than me- but JesusMaryMotherOfGod- as you fake-screamed (I guess you forgot you told me you were non-orgasmic during intercourse) all I could see in my minds eye were the two of you sloshing and fucking in a luke-warm, bacteria saturated, hair, sloughed skin and old sperm soup and I swear to GOD it was everything I could do not to vomit. <br> Ugh... <br> In summation, Neighbor; I somehow got my tomatoes in the ground so please feel free to continue your loud, ugly, germy fucking. The only thing I ask, is just PLEASE do it when I'm not home, which may I remind you, is MOST of the time. <br> <br> PS. V-word; KINKS (can you believe it?)<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=In The Middle Of The Day -->this is in or around In The Middle Of The Day<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- <!-- CLTAG null -->it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-05-10T07:55:54-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/159346268.html My Ugly, Fat Neighbor Having Sex In Her Jacuzzi W/Her Gross BF text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/151590579.html <br> <br> Folks; <br> <br> I actually took this career path because it disturbed me to see so many victims and I was sure I was the one who would make a difference. <br> <br> During my career, I have employed compassion, empathy, negotiating skills, and decency in an effort to be someone who people would actually be left with the feeling that you mater after we leave. I could write a book, no, ten books about the things I've seen in your living rooms, bedrooms, streets and alleys. But I won't because I am not talented enough and most of it would be in poor taste. <br> <br> I see that this forum has a variety of genre. I see the intelligent people trying to provoke thought and engage other people’s minds. I see the sick, disturbed people who have found an audience for which they can share their disturbing thoughts. I see those in between who are just passing through musing at the fodder of all the rest. And of course we now know that Kim Jong lives in the Salt Lake Valley. So, perhaps this is to fall upon deaf ears. But what the hell, I can't send it to the paper because they sell entertainment and this isn't very entertaining. But at the risk of boring, pissing off, maligning, inadvertently offended, or maybe even causing someone to think a little, here goes. <br> <br> 1. Complaints from citizens <br> <br> People, for the love of everything holly, why do you call us for some of this absolute shit? People are always saying "don't you guys have anything better to do?" when we show up at their home for some moronic reason. Well guess hat? They are right! We have so much more to do. Why do you use us as swords to wield at your neighbor? Why do you use us as leverage mechanisms in you’re screwed up personal relationships? You say we are all fat, lazy, or no good. So why is it every time you want to threaten, scare or piss off an ex, a neighbor, a family member etc. the first statement that rolls off of your lips is "I'm gonna call the cops on you if,,,,,, <br> <br> Let me use yesterday as an example. Noon, its 59 degrees and I get a call from a guy whose neighbor’s dog has been left in a car. I get there, the windows are cracked, and the dog has only been in there 20 minutes. It’s 59 Degrees! It’s not summer and if it were the dead of winter I'd say the car is a $20,000 dog house. But it turns out this guy has a running dispute with his neighbor so guess who he calls to irritate the guy a little more? Me. When I go to leave, the asshole that called this in yells, "hey, aren't you gonna do anything?" I explain why I am not and he says "great, I'm writing a letter to the paper" Holly shit. Now I'm the bad guy because I didn't embarrass your target enough for you? Grow the hell up. <br> <br> 1:30 PM. Mom calls in a child abuse report on the ex. Turns out the only abuse was that he is a half hour late returning from his turn with the girl. The poor guy has two of us at his door and all his neighbors watching. But we have to respond and gladly respond to every call because of the fact that every now and then, it’s real. So we can't pick and choose and no, I don't have a crystal ball installed next to my MDC so I can see into the future. Another 90 minutes wasted on a revenge complaint. And yes, the ex got what she wanted. All the neighbors are now murmuring that this guy might be a psycho because after all, there were police officers in his home. Now his neighbors have a hard on for him and they are going to start calling us everything a bike gets stolen or a potted plant comes up missing. 3:15 PM. Car just stolen from the parking lot of a grocery store. The RP left the car running for just a minute while she went inside. Dispatch gives us a description of the car. The first thing we do is spread out into a grid of sorts hitting the main routes people would use to leave the area and we actually look for the victim’s car. Believe it or not, a great many times we actually locate the car and return it to the victim. But after 30 minutes, if we haven't found it, it's either in someone's garage in the hood, or it's out of the area. So the next thing I do is respond to where the woman is to take a report. Guess what? I get out of my car and this irate woman comes rolling over and yells at me right there in front of the super market "Where the hell have you guys been!!" She goes on a tirade about how she'll never get her car back now because we didn't respond fast enough and we could give a shit about here because she's just another dumb ass taxpayer. So I try in my most composed voice to explain "maam, when your car is stolen, the one place you won't find us is the place we are sure the car is NOT" Now I'm being a smart ass and she wants my supervisors name. <br> <br> People, most of you are decent, hard working, family loving, flag waving contributors to your society. And it’s because of this that I approach everyone with dignity and respect. But to that loud minority that tries to use us to get even with the neighbor down the street, or the ex, or the boss. You are the ones that are doing everyone a huge disservice. You are the ones that take us away from the people we should be watching. You are the pathetic, bored, angry, insecure misfits of society. So the next time one of you is sitting at your barstool lamenting about how "the cops are never there when you need them" there's a reason. <br> <br> To the rest of you, I'm truly sorry if it takes us a little longer than it should to get there. I know who the gang bangers are. I know most of the tweekers. I know where to go and look for your property when you've been ripped off. I know where to go and look for the guy that that just jacked your wife’s purse because as soon as I heard the physical description I recognized him and a repeat offender trying to get together some cash for his habit. But I cannot tend to these real emergencies if you are going to call us because you think someone stole your paper or the neighbor is watering his lawn on an even rather than an odd day or because the kids down the street are on the damn skateboards again. Hell, we were kids once. Leave the kids to be kids. Oh, and to the guy who called us during the busiest time of night to complain that your neighbor across the street was parked too close to the corner, real funny. He's a cop and you don't like cops so you try and use other cops to harass him? Get a life. <br> <br> Live like decent people and yes, absolutely call us when you see something real happening. I'll do everything in within my ability to help you. Disclaimer. I know there are asshole cops just like there are assholes in any and every profession. I know some of the guys where like me, idealists who wanted to make a difference but now suffer from a thing we call “compassion fatigue” Most of us really do give a damn about you and when you are in trouble, we haul ass to get there before it’s too late. Even then someone will always call in to complain that I was driving to fast and ‘must have been late for dinner” But I’ll tell you what, when we get a 911 call at 2:00 AM and all the call taker can hear on the other end is a woman screaming, it still gives us chills and yes, we’re gonna drive like hell to get there as quick as possible because whoever is doing whatever to her needs to be stopped and we’re the only ones that are going in. So cut us a break. It could be your wife, or mom, or girlfriend or daughter <br> <!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=your neighborhood -->this is in or around your neighborhood<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- <!-- CLTAG null -->it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-04-16T07:20:33-07:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/151590579.html A Rant from a Cop text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/144939980.html "I’m moving to Canada." Since the 2004 Presidential election, this phrase rings out in most political discussions. In fact, Canada does welcome Americans. They’ll welcome you with open arms if have a post-graduate degree, own your own business, or already have a job lined up with one of the big accounting firms in Toronto, eh? <br> <br> These next four years of military spending, education reforms that emphasize standardized test scores over actual learning, and the invasions of a pair of countries I can barely find on a map overwhelm me. I, however, won’t contemplate moving to the Great White North. It’s too damn cold there, and their money has ducks on it. <br> <br> I have a better plan. I’m moving to another era. <br> <br> Look in a box of old postcards. This is easy for me, since I live in Palm Springs, where the detritus of yesteryear is catalogued and sold. Retro is very popular where Sinatra’s hangouts are treated like the Stations of the Cross. No question about it, back in the 50’s and early 60’s, this place was the bomb! Swimmin’ pools. Movie stars. Dean Martin knocks a golf ball through your window: he comes over to apologize, and ends up staying for dinner. What a time we had that night! I’ll never forget his story about playing blackjack in the steam room of the Sands Hotel. Oh, did we laugh. <br> <br> Let’s look at some other towns. How about New York City in the 1930’s? Sure, there was rampant unemployment, but who wouldn’t want to be there for the construction of the Chrysler Building? Especially if you knew a brand-new Gershwin musical was opening next week? Take me there! <br> <br> Let’s try Los Angeles during the Second World War. All the women all have great jobs building battleships. The music coming over the radio is so good, and it helps you forget that Johnny is off fighting in the Philippines. And the news is heartening! With the help of our staunch Russian allies, Hitler is on the run. <br> <br> Honolulu in the 70’s. Miami in the 80’s. San Diego in the 60’s. San Francisco in either 90’s – the 1890’s has loose women hanging out in saloons with feathers in their hair. The 1990’s were much the same, only with men. <br> <br> I’ve decided to move to Palm Springs in the late 50’s. I’m going to go to the library to print out four years of newspapers off the microfilm spools. (Sure, it’s going to be expensive, but it’s nothing compared to the price of a condo in Vancouver.) I’m thinking of starting in 1957 and going to 1961. Each morning, I will smoke my pipe and read one full day’s paper, sitting out on the verandah in my slippers. Oh yeah, I gotta go buy a pipe. And slippers. And a verandah. When I get home, I’ll play nothing but Ella Fitzgerald and Elvis records, and cook dishes like tuna croquettes and beef roasts. Big beef roasts. I have a recipe for – get this – cherry Jello made with Coca-Cola and pieces of Twinkies floating in it. <br> <br> I will reprogram my TV to just two channels, Turner Classic Movies and American Movie Classics. The radio will be locked on our local station KWXY, which I used to refer to as "the old people’s station" but now I’ll welcome for its nonstop Nelson Riddle with the occasional adventurous foray into Jo Stafford. <br> <br> Sure, the plan isn’t perfect. I can’t quit my job as a criminal lawyer, so I will still deal with my drunk drivers, methamphetamine addicts, men who beat their spouses, and meth-addicted drunk-driving wife-beaters. A real 1950’s man could only dream of a car like mine, my color television the size of an oven, or that amazing telephone I carry in my shirt pocket. Mr. Nineteen Fifty-Seven would have a heart attack if I took him to Costco. But it evens out – I covet his satisfaction about America’s place in the world and his belief that the future holds nothing but good. He knows we beat the Jerries outta Europe and the Japs from the Pacific. Everyone has a job, and we’re getting television-phones any day now – I know because they showed it at the 1956 World’s Fair! Now if I could just stop referring to people as "Jerries" and "Japs" – that can’t be nice. I also can’t wait for my car that converts into a boat. Saw that one in Popular Mechanics. <br> <br> So join me, will you? Imagine if all our neighbors moved to the 50’s together. We could probably get a group discount on our cable service – remember? Just two channels. And we could hire a neighborhood kid to ride a shiny red bike every morning, delivering the antique newspaper with a satisfying thump against the front door. <br> <br> Jimmy. The kid’s name has to be Jimmy. <br> <!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=Fabulous Palm Springs -->this is in or around Fabulous Palm Springs<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- <!-- CLTAG null -->it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-24T14:41:47-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/144939980.html Drinks with Dino text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/143748082.html Dear Los Angeles, <br> <br> As you know, well I've been unhappy with you for quite some time. The truth of the matter is you don't love me and I never loved you. In fairness, I tried. Really I did and I found some good things in you. I mean, I've made some really wonderful friends through you. So lovely in fact just recently it occurred to me that I may be one of the luckiest people in the world. And jeez, I can't say enough about you showing me the Museum of Jurassic Technology - I suspect the most amazing place you have to offer. I must also say, living downtown has been amazing, the parks are nice, and the mountains are gorgeous. I've had some fine sushi and mexican food while I've been here as well. <br> <br> However, the down side is insurmountable. You are a bit on the shallow side, ridiculously scene driven, and why must you insist on driving everywhere??? It's maddening! I mean, there have been so many things that were wrong that truth be told, that this relationship is not salvageable. You really are the most self centered city I've ever been with as well as the most shallow, flaky, and well...plastic. Your obsessions with Scientology and Marilyn Monroe really creeped me out too, you should dial that down a notch. That fauxhemian fashion sense of yours always grated under my skin a bit as well, it's now available at Target so why don't you just give it up already? In my last relationship with New York, I mean you could see the warts with no effort made to even hide them but at least you know what you got, at least it was real. My friends warned me about you before I decided to give 'us' a shot, you have quite a reputation you know. I should have listened. I guess I must have thought it sounded like too much a cliche to really be true or maybe I thought I could change you in my own meager way. I've been proved wrong. <br> <br> However, let's not dwell on the negatives, the truth is I'm leaving you to go back to New York. Yes, New York. Yes yes, I know you hate New York - New York hates you too. Lucky for the both of you that you're 3000 miles apart. You see, I've always loved New York, even when I was with you. Your jealousy of New York really didn't help matters, just be who you are, accept yourself for who you are. Stop trying to be something you're not and can never be. The truth is, New York is my true love. Granted it's not perfect, but scrape away the dirt and curtness and you find something real and wonderful and oddly free. New York thinks it's ok for me not to go out until 11pm, and New York wont make me drive after a few cocktails. In fact, New York wont make me drive anywhere. I know it seems silly but New York has so much more to offer than you do. I'm sorry but it's true. New York has good taste in art, and every band likes playing New York, and jesus christ, New York has much better taste in fashion. New York is also happy to feed me at 4 in the morning, it was like it took an act of congress for you to muster up a decent meal for me at that hour. On top of that, New York accepts me the way I am. I don't need a fancy car or fake tits to be with New York. And not to stick the knife any deeper in, but the sex was better as well. New York can be a bit dirty I suppose and there's nothing wrong with that. <br> <br> And listen, it's not like we'll never see each other again. Hopefully we can still be friends. I'm sure after we've spent quite some time apart I might be willing to see you again but don't get any wild ideas like it may be permanent, at most maybe we have a weekend trip. <br> <br> So, Los Angeles, I'm leaving you and moving out at the end of May. It's over. You can't change my mind and I'm not moving back. I'm sorry. I'm sure you wont shed a tear anyway. <br> <br> Best of luck to you, <br> <br> P<!-- START CLTAGS --> <br><br><!-- DO NOT EDIT these unless you're really feeling brave and want your posting messed up. You have been warned. --> <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> <!-- CLTAG GeographicArea=los angeles -->this is in or around los angeles<br> <li> <font color="#ff0000">no</font> -- <!-- CLTAG null -->it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests<br> </ul> <!-- END CLTAGS --> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-20T20:08:40-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/143748082.html it's over, I'm leaving you... text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/142248974.html My regular waxer was not available and I just could not bear the wild, untamed amazon bush jungle that my, well, bush had become for another day. <br> <br> So I came to you on my lunch hour, Anonymous Vietnamese Waxer Lady who works at the cheapie nail place. We were mere strangers before this afternoon, but after knowing you only an hour, I feel like I must point out the reasons why you rule. <br> <br> When it was necessary to get on all fours to do the “taint” part of the wax, you applied the wax so delicately to my bunghole, then asked, in what I assumed were two of the only five English words you know, “Too hot?” I responded yes, it was too hot. And without hesitation, you blew on it to cool the hot wax. YOU BLEW ON MY BUNGHOLE, Vietnamese Waxer Lady. Do you know how special that is? Nobody blows on the bung. Nobody. <br> <br> Since you were a bit clumsy with the wax, there were many bits leftover that did not get taken up onto the “Strip of Doom” as I like to call it. So without any sort of trepidation whatsoever, you happily took a cotton ball and dug the wax out of my vaginal canal yourself. How did you manage to do that without making me feel the least bit uncomfortable, Vietnamese Waxer Lady? Were you a gynecologist back in Vietnam and they wouldn’t let you practice medicine in the United States when you immigrated here, and so now you wax pubes for a living? I know that kind of thing happens all the time, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to know this occupation has not been your first foray into coochdom. And I know this is totally inappropriate, but I even started to feel, dare I say, a tiny bit frisky from the action. You just seemed to know my vagina so very well. Almost like you were two old friends, and I was this new acquaintance showing up to lunch with you and my vagina, but then was all like “Oh. I see you two have already met.” <br> <br> Since you don’t speak much English, you had to motion to me where to place my legs in the air to best reach the “corner” as you called it. Most people would have been uncomfortable with their legs in the air and then having their butt cheeks spread further apart, mere centimeters from the face of a stranger. But you smiled at me and with a subtle expression, indicated that you, too, felt my pain. You should give lessons to medical students, Vietnamese Waxer Lady, on how to have good bedside manner. Or I guess in your case, ass-side manner. <br> <br> I thanked you with a good tip, but I want to thank you here, publicly, for your selfless action, and for doing your part on behalf of all humanity to keep my pubes under control. <br> webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-03-15T15:44:12-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/142248974.html You Rule, Vietnamese Waxer Lady text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/134053527.html 8) Lame message hearts. The only thing worse than feigning gratitude when you hand me three hearts with “Be Mine”, “You Stud”, “So Hot” is falsely complementing you on your third grade creativity. After that, I have the pleasure of choking down these delightful little confections that taste like a combination of elementary school chalk and baseball card chewing gum. <br> <br> 7) Overpriced Dinners. Thank you for bumping up your prices by $25 for the pleasure of eating your attempt at realizing your culinary dreams. Mmmmm… love that odd lemon/foot flavored cream sauce you doused on the new potatoes. Did you use dill on this flank steak you are passing off as veal? That makes you a real chef. This should go well with that moldy tasting boxed cabernet you’re serving at the reasonable price of $9 a glass. P.S. nobody likes FLAN!! <br> <br> 6) valentine Cards. Thanks sweety, I’m glad it took you 10 minutes to decide between the Whinny the Pooh card that said “You’re my Honey” and the Tiger Card that said “Your Terrifficccc!”. I want to poop on your head wasting 3 dollars. <br> <br> 5) DeBeers commercials. Oh DeBeers, You most bastards of the Belgium families. Congratulations on raping the people of South Africa, exporting all the wealth to Europe, and artificially inflating the price of diamonds by restricting the supply to the market. But why stop there you ask? You didn’t. You successfully launched a marketing campaign that has ever women in America believing that a not so rare carbon-carbon stone is the incarnation of love itself. Thanks for securing my dates disappointment when her gifts are wilted roses, dusty chocolates, and… an overpriced dinner. Diamonds are Forever?? Fuck You is Forever too you waffle-slinging assholes!! <br> <br> 4) That damn guy who goes overboard. Guess what dude, those years of being a neglectful father and husband or the affair you had with your coworker won’t be forgiven simply because you bought this girl a tennis bracelet, sent 100 roses to her work, and hired a wandering serenade for the night. The only thing your accomplishing is making the rest of us look bad. BTW- she’s sleeping with your best friend. <br> <br> 3) Valentine’s Night Sex. I just spent 4 hours pretending to enjoy the evening, I am half cocked on bad wine, and my stomach is turning because of that awful dinner and shitty candies. I am in no mood for athletics. It doesn’t help that my penis is on DEFCON 5 and about to blow any minute because you stopped having sex with me two weeks ago to make this night “special”. The most you can hope for is two minutes of awkward half pumps and that I don’t fart on you in my sleep as I try to digest all that nastiness. <br> <br> 2) Singles Parties. Hmm… two choices of girls here. The really drunk chick who wants to tell me about her shitty ex, or her fat friend who couldn’t get a date for the life of her. Hey Betty, here’s a tip, that bleach job you did for the hair on your upper lip glows underneath the black light. No I do not want to do a body shot off of you, you yeti. <br> <br> 1) Its my birthday god damn it. I either have to spend it with some needy girl who wants me to treat her like a princess, or all my bitter friends who don’t have a date for valentines day. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-02-15T03:48:29-08:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/134053527.html 8 things I hate about valentine's text http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/119838685.html I posted this story on Craigslist months ago and everyone thought it was brilliant! I’m posting it again for your entertainment. I love fucking with Nigerian scammers sending them on a wild goose chase. I have yet to get one sucker to take a picture of their self and send it to me. Something tells me that will be very simple. I posted a room available for rent on Craigslist for $750/month. <br> Starring: <br> Me = Justin Credible and Ms. Bea Haven <br> Nigerian Scammer = “Love Sandra” <br> <br> love Sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: <br> <br> Hello, <br> how are you doing today hope all is well with you, now i want to <br> let you know that i have tell my company that i have <br> saw a room but is $750dollars and them said that <br> they will issue you a check of $4950 dollars, so as <br> soon as you receive the check and cash it you will <br> take your own money there which is $750 dollars and <br> send the balanec to me, so that i will use it to pay <br> for my ticket, i need it urgent . <br> Becasue the wedding will be comeing up soon. <br> This is all i needed from you so that my company <br> will send the check for you immediatley. <br> Your full name <br> Your cantcat address <br> Your country code and name. <br> Your telephone number. <br> <br> Please i will like you to send this now so that i <br> will forward it to my company okay. <br> Looking forward to hear from you now. <br> Thanks and god bless you. <br> Love Sandra <br> <br> <br> Justin Credible wrote: <br> <br> Yes, thank you for your interest Ms. Love Sandra, please send a security deposit and one month’s rent ($750 + $750 = $1500) to: <br> Justin Credible <br> 6969 Melrose Place <br> Los Angeles, CA 90046 <br> <br> Thank you, <br> <br> Justin <br> <br> <br> love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: <br> <br> Hello justin, <br> How are you doing today hope all is well with you? now i want to let you know that my company have send the check $4950 to you okay and all i want you to be doing is this you will be checking your (mail box)evry day because the check will be deleive trough (US MAIL) okay so you have to be checking you mail box evry day okay. <br> looking forward to hear from you soon. <br> thanks and god bless you. <br> love sandra <br> <br> <br> Two weeks later… <br> <br> <br> Justin Credible wrote: <br> <br> Hello Love Sandra, <br> I wanted to inform you that I have received the check for $4950 made payable to me Justin Credible from qchex.com. This doesn’t look legit but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt anyway. Please tell me what you want me to do with the left over amount. <br> Thanks, <br> Justin <br> <br> love sandra love_sandra_05@yahoo.com wrote: <br> <br> hello justin, <br> Please i will like you to wire the money to my traevel agent okay so he can arrange my flight tickets to the us.The weding I need to attend is almost here. Pls use Moneygram. <br> Wire to: <br> MARTINE OKORE <br> 21UNITY ROAD <br> OMOLE LAGOS <br> NIGERIA <br>