Best of Craigslist

Best of Craigslist http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best postings from craigslist.org, selected by readers en-us Copyright 2008, craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best of Craigslist Collection 2007-11-07T10:38:05-05:00 2 daily It's me! Every girl ever. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/471580402.html Knock knock Oh hi, how's it going? It's me! Every girl ever. I'm really looking forward to this date. I'm not nearly as attractive as you remember me being because when we met the bar was dark and you were drunk. Come on in. Let's start off with the unavoidable tour of my incredibly typical post-college-girl apartment. You'll notice that I went ahead and purchased everything that Ikea and Pier 1 have ever produced. There's my decorative birdcage over there even though I don't have a bird, and there's my gay wicker basket with bamboo poles in it. I don't know what the hell that's thing's all about, but I bought it. Hey check it out, I have more candles in here than a Roman Catholic Church. Doesn't it smell like Hazelnut!? If I were to light all of my candles at once you could see my apartment from space! I fucking love candles! Come on into the living room. Oh, I see you met my cat there. That's "Freddy Paws Jr." Why don't you pet him and act like you like cats even though you hate cats? There you go. Oh, he took a little swing at your eye there huh? Yeah, he'll do that. Hey, let's check out the kitchen. Hey look at my refrigerator. There are pictures all over it! Look at all these pictures of me and my equally vacuous friends from college! We were so crazy! You can tell we're really good friends because our faces are all pressed up against each other like that. And check it out, we're holding up alcoholic beverages to the camera in every single picture. That's to prove that we were partying. College was so fun! But of course I don't talk to any of these girls anymore because now they're all bitches. Let's go back into the hallway! Hey, before we leave I'm going to go in the bathroom for ten minutes for some mysterious reason. Why don't you sit awkwardly in my big, stupid, round papizan chair over there while you wait for me. It's like you're sitting in a hug! Be right back... Sorry that took a half an hour, I don't know what the hell I was doing in there. Let's go! Wow! Thanks for opening my car door for me! I'm totally going to blow that meaningless gesture out of proportion and delude myself into thinking that you're a really good guy because that's what I want to believe. Well, here we are at the restaurant. No thanks waiter, I don't need to see a menu, just bring me some expensive things. Hey I know, while we wait, I'll tell you all about my unspeakably boring job. I hate my boss. He's a jerk! I might get another job. Maybe something in pharmaceutical sales. Now let's talk about my family. I love my family. I want you to love my family. I want my family to love you. I want you to make love to my family! I want you to go golfing with my semi-retarded brother Travis. That would be so God damned cute! Wow! I can't believe I ordered all this food! I have no intention of eating any of it. No thanks waiter, we don't need a box. Just throw it out. Hey, I've got an idea, let's go to a bar and have an after dinner drink! It'll be great, it will be just like how we're drinking here, only it will be louder and we'll have to stand up. Come on! See, isn't this better? Oh hey, what a coincidence. Look over there! It's a group of my friends that I knew was going to be here. Let's go over there so that they can judge you! Hey, I have to go to the bathroom for a half an hour again for some reason. You can stay here and talk to my unbelievably hideous friend Christine! Christine's so ugly she scares kids! Talk to her! She has a job and a family that she wants to talk to you about too. Be right back. I'm back! Sorry I was gone for three hours, there was a line. I want to go home now. Well here we are at my door again. This was really fun for me and not you. You should pretend like we're going to do it again sometime! Maybe I'll see you at Target a few months from now and we can avoid eye contact because you never called me. Here, have this awkward goodnight kiss that's as empty as my soul. Good night!  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-07T10:38:05-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/471580402.html It's me! Every girl ever. text Dear SEPTA Train Passengers http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/416363656.html Dear SEPTA Train Passengers, Hi there. You may have seen me: I'm the chick with the sketchbook that sometimes sits next to you, or near you, on the train to and from work every day. You may notice me wrestling my sketchbook out of my backpack, earnestly trying to get some work done on the bumpy ride into or out of the city. You may have even politely craned your neck to see what it was I was drawing. How you doin'. Because we live in a polite society populated by less than polite people, I'm going to share a few things with you, of which you may not already be aware. These items may or may not apply to other artists, under other circumstances, so I can't say for sure. You may find these insights helpful. Feel free to take notes, or print them out, but whatever course of action you decide to take, please do try to follow them from this point forward. 1. It's OK to talk to me. I'm a nice person, but I'm also pretty quiet. You're more than welcome to say hello to me, ask me if I'm a professional artist or art student (I'm not, but thank you for thinking I might be!) or comment on my work. I can even take criticism, as long as you're not being a jerk. If I don't continue the conversation, it's probably because I'm really shy, or because I'm trying to draw. 2. It's not OK to talk to me TOO MUCH. I have a 30 minute commute each way. In that we've already covered the "I'm not a professional artist or art student" portion of this post, you can assume that I do not spend the entirety of my day drawing. In fact, those precious 60 minutes of commute time are the only time that I have to actually get in some drawing, and improve my skills. I am usually happy to answer your polite questions, and even joke with you in a friendly manner, but it becomes very frustrating to me when your "talking" time infringes upon my sketching time. 3. Don't be offended if I don't make eye contact See #2. Sometimes, no matter how often I say, "I really only have enough time to draw on the train", people just can't take the hint, and launch into lengthy, detailed, often horrifyingly revealing conversations with me. As yet, I have not been able to find a polite way to excuse myself from these conversations, except to resume my drawing, and hope that they will not want to converse too much with the top of someone's head. 4. Do not ask too many questions about what I'm drawing. This often becomes embarrassing for both of us, and tiring for me. You don't know how many times I've heard, "Is that a guy? Are you drawing a guy? Is that someone you know? Is that your boyfriend? What is he holding? Is that a golf club? Is he a golfer? Are you drawing Tiger Woods? This one time, my Dad met Tiger Woods..." Please stop. If you want to know what I'm drawing, you can ask me once, and end it. If you want to know what I'm GOING to draw, just shut up and let me fucking finish it, or I will beat you with my sketchbook. I am a decent artist, so if you try to guess TWICE what I'm drawing, and get it wrong both times, you're either being an asshole, trying to embarrass me, or are a complete fucking moron, and I'm really regretting having chosen the seat next to you. 5. I am not holding a turd The lumpy gray thing that I have in one hand is called a Kneaded Eraser. When you buy it, it starts out like a 2" x 1" gray square, and you have to work it and knead it with your hands. It's much more gentle on paper than a hard rubber eraser, and when it gets dirty you just knead it until you get to a clean part. It is not a piece of turd. When I take it out, you don't have to gasp in horror and inch away from me like I'm going to rub gray feces all over you. 6. Do not take my polite replies to your questions as an invitation to convert me to any given religion. It's alarming how many conversations go like this: "You're a very good artist." "Thank you very much." "It's really a talent." "Thank you." "It's really a blessing to have that kind of talent." "Um. Yes." "Have you welcomed Jesus Christ into your heart for blessing you with such talent?" You know what religion I am? I'm the religion that doesn't discuss God with freaky people on the train who can't identify what conversations are inappropriate for complete strangers. I regularly attend the church of Please Leave Me The Fuck Alone Already, Lady. 7. I am not a babysitter I don't always draw from "real life", sometimes I draw illustrations and cartoons. Just because you see a cute, fuzzy animal emerging from my pad, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not use it as a way to distract your child from climbing all over you, the seats, and other passengers, like a shrieking primate. "Look Billy! Look what she's doing! Billy, get off that man's lap and come here -- see what she's doing? Isn't that pretty, Billy? Why don't you ask her what she's drawing? Maybe if you ask nicely she'll draw something for you. Just sit still and watch her for awhile so Mommy can sob quietly into her hands." As uncomfortable as it is for me to have to talk to people while I'm drawing, it's DOUBLY SO to have to do it while your little hellion is bouncing up and down on the seat next to me or -- worse yet -- sticking his face three inches away from the paper while I'm drawing. I am not a babysitter. I don't even like children. Seriously -- go Google the world "Childfree", and I promise that you'll never want your child anywhere near me, ever again. If you insist on using me as a ready-made distraction so you can get two minutes of not wanting to shoot yourself in the uterus, I'm going to turn the page and immediately start drawing the nastiest, most explicitly pornographic picture I can think of, all for your little snotmonkey's entertainment. 8. No, I'm not drawing Simba / Lady / Tramp / Nemo OR ANY OTHER CHARACTER. I know who you are. You're the guy who takes his kids to the zoo, points at the lion, and goes, "Look, honey, it's SIMBA AND NALA." This is going to come as a shock to you, but Disney is not the end-all be-all of all entertainment. Just because I'm drawing a lion does not mean that I'm drawing "The Lion King." Just because I'm drawing a dog does not mean it's "Lady and the Tramp." I am by no means a great artist, but I am GOOD, and certainly good enough to draw easily recognizable animals and figures (my biggest problem is anatomical perspective, not drawing things that are easily identifiable. I got that down quite awhile ago.) If I'm drawing a collie, or a poodle, or a whippet, it looks like a collie, a poodle or a whippet, it does not look like a cocker spaniel. Just because I'm drawing ANY BREED OF DOG does not mean I must be drawing "Lady." And if I tell you no, it's not "Lady", it's just a dog, it's not OK to pause for five seconds, and then ask, "...Is it Tramp?" It is also not OK to wait an additional five seconds and ask, "Can you draw me a picture of Lady and the Tramp?" I swear I will stab you in the face with my pencil. 9. I am neither a priest nor a psychiatrist. If you start talking to me, and insist on dragging it out into an entire, excrutiating conversation, please try to keep it topical. Please do not start telling me about your last ObGyn appointment, body hair problems that you have, or the condition of your last bowel movement. Seriously. I'm talking to you because I'm really trying to be nice, not because the grotesque details of your life actually fascinate me. I think that about covers it! I don't know if any of this will actually help any other artists out there, but it's certainly gone a long way towards help me not want to kill people anymore. Thank you, Philadelphia!  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: SEPTA <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-09-07T13:07:59-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/416363656.html Dear SEPTA Train Passengers text Bare balls http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/414112031.html Until a couple years ago, I didnt pay much attention to grooming in the southern regions. Fastidiously clean, yes; tidy, not so much. Then one day, on a whim, I decided that things looked somewhat unkempt, and decided to clear some brush. Now, being of pale northern stock, Im not a very hairy guy; the hair I do have tends to be light and fine. In a pinch, I can skip a day of shaving and still be more or less respectable at work. But I suddenly didnt like the look, and decided shaving was the answer to this pelvic unsightliness. It was harder than it looked. The male regional geography is quite varied, and caused some awkward angles just to see what was going on, much less safely run a very sharp piece of steel over some of my most sensitive and treasured bits. I did this in the shower, and between the shaving cream and the water, things quickly got slick, what with having to pull things this way and that to get underneath something or just to have a taut area to work on. The result, while a vast improvement in looks (and feel), was unsatisfactory, still a little overall stubble, missed spots no matter how diligent, and increasingly impossible to operate the further underneath and around back I got. Also, it grew back rather quickly. I needed assistance. So, a couple months ago I started thinking waxing. Now, obviously there are issues here, the primary one being pain. After all, there are the constant popular horror stories as to how much it hurts. But more significantly, this seems to be the province of women, and probably gay guys. Am I becoming the dreaded metrosexual of the rapidly fading media fad? Clearly not, but still, this operation, if it were to be put into motion, must remain a closely held secret. But where to turn? I had seen a couple recurrent postings on CL under the Therapeutic Services section while perusing for a massage therapist. One in particular had a website that noted that they did Brazilian jobs, and that they catered to men as well. Finally, at the beginning of the week, I made The Call. I explained to the woman that I was a novice, and proceeded to ask a series of basic and stupid questions. She was patient, and gave me an appointment for Wednesday evening. I arrived at the building, and didnt see any signs. I went up the stairs to the second floor, and emerged in the waiting area of a beauty salon, with four bored, over-coiffed foreign stylists staring at me like a piece of meat. Clearly I was in the wrong place, but perhaps they had heard of the place I was looking for? No, but the one in charge, a woman of a certain age, took me in charge and led me through the entire salon, gathering attention from all the women present, both employees and clients. Out the back door, there was an Asian nail salon that did waxing, as well as a laser hair removal place. I assured her it was neither, but she took me back through the salon, introducing me to the manager in the process, and called the laser woman. After telling her there was a client here, she put me on the phone to establish what I already knew, that it was a false lead. I finally extracted myself from the clutches of the salon ladies and went back to my car, where I called the number that I had. It turned out that the place was in a closet with an unmarked door at the top of the stairs between the nail salon and the laser place. The technician opened the door, and I would have placed her as perhaps Persian, but her name suggested Hispanic. She was young and attractive, reviving yet another of my fears, one that has occupies me in regards to nudist camps and massages: that there would be a socially inappropriate reaction at a critical juncture. After filling out the requisite paperwork, she left me to undress from the waist down, and lie down with a small washcloth over the strategic areas. I wasnt sure of the purpose, but as a novice, figured I would wait and see. I really couldnt understand how she was going to work on areas without being able to see them, but figured maybe there was a intricate, painstaking, and completely ineffectual dance of the draping for forms sake similar to that in some massage therapy sessions. Sure enough, as soon as she came in, she flipped it up so that it was only covering the tip, and the started to point, discuss, and move things around. She would have me get a good grip and really stretch things out, but would have to show me how firmly and in what direction first. All this groping and flaunting, with a bright light and her face inches away, normally would have given rise to big problems, but I neednt have worried in this case. Between the surrealism and the pain, there was never even a remote danger of any of my parts getting happy. The actual waxing, for the most part, wasnt that bad, considering that someone was smearing hot wax on my sensitive bits and ripping it off along with all the hairs. The actual heat of the wax was more painful in most cases than the subsequent pull a minute later, though there were some moments with a greater concentration of hair that had me gritting my teeth. Periodically, shed have me sit up and shed ask, What about here? All in all, it was a bit odd to be sitting there in only a shirt calmly discussing the appearance of my genitals with a woman Id never met. Ive never even done that with a doctor. When we both agreed that the front was done, she had me flip over onto my knees and elbows, with my face in the table, and she proceeded to do here thing on the back forty. As I was aimed at the door of this tiny room, I kept wondering if someone would burst in looking for the storage closet and get an unforgettable memory. Throughout the procedure, she kept up a polite conversation about where I was from, my family, our cats, etc. The whole thing took just under an hour, and she charged me $150. She gave me some of the coconut oiled that she had rubbed into me, and told me that it should last from four to six weeks. Things this morning are still slightly tender in a couple places, which I suspect was more from the heat than the defoliation. But the look is fantastic. And even though I still get a jolt of surprise every time I run my hand there, it feels great as well. Id call myself a satisfied customer. Though Ill have to see whether I do it again. But still, I hadnt really imagined even days earlier that Id be spending my afternoon balanced on a rickety table face down, ass up while I paid a stranger to slather my crack with wax. On the other hand, I discovered an interesting Armenian bakery downstairs.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Somewhere else <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-09-04T21:58:31-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/414112031.html Bare balls text We met over a steaming pile of turds. . . http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/383398809.html Me- I was picking up my dog's shit, following the law, minding my own business. You- old woman who looked like a broomstick with a bad weave- who said to me mid-scoop "you shouldn't let your dog do that (poop), he should do it over there (points to middle of street)" I just wanted to say I should've gotten your phone number, but I was just too angry to ask. You see, I felt a real connection between us. The audacity of an old bag to yell at my (4 pound puppy nonetheless) dog for shitting, having the shit picked up and then properly thrown away, overwhelmed me with rage. And I like to surround myself with petty, trite people that fill me with rage. My shrink says it's 'constructive.' So how about this, give me your number and the next time my dog needs to take a shit I'll drop you a line, come over, and let him shit in your wrinkled crusty mouth. then coffee?   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: 17th St. <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-07-27T15:26:31-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/383398809.html We met over a steaming pile of turds. . . text I stole your crutches. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/347216705.html dear sir or madam: at approximately 00:30 on thursday morning, i was with a friend walking back from a night of drunken revelry when i spotted a pair of crutches leaning against the fence by the tennis courts. you are evidently very tall, as i had to adjust these crutches before i could mockingly, drunkenly use them. i apologize for any inconvenience i caused you and would be more than happy to return your cripple sticks. please respond at your earliest convenience. tell me what your crutches look like so i don't give them to a cripple-poser.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: 10/Lombard <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-06-07T18:50:37-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/347216705.html I stole your crutches. text Dear, guy masturbating in the bathroom stall at my work... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/290529230.html Ok, I get it. You had to rub one out. I know the feeling. Maybe it was thinking about that totally hot little minx in purchasing that got you going. Or you got some steamy email from your wife. Whatever it was, you just needed a little release. We've all been there my friend. But if I may be so bold as to offer a few tips? 1. Location Location Location - Maybe it was the bathroom closest to your desk. Maybe it has bigger stalls for more elbow room. But whatever the reason, the bathroom just off the factory floor is not your best choice. It is huge for a reason. There are about 80-90 workers on that factory floor at all times, plus about 30-40 office workers, and there's almost always at least one person who needs to take a squirt. 2. Silence is Golden - While we all might empathize with your situation, NO ONE WANTS YOU HEAR YOU SLAP YOUR SALAMI!! And we certainly don't want to hear the gentle grunts you were letting out. It was like being forced to listen to the audio of a bad gay porn soundtrack, minus the cheesy Casio keyboard jazz/funk fusion music. Keep it down, will ya? 3. Ms Manners says... - Ok, so you had a poor choice in bathrooms and you are just naturally loud. Even elemental problems such as these can be overcome by following rule #3. When someone comes into the bathroom....STOP!!! Seriously, I'd think that would be the easiest rule to follow. Did you not hear me open the door? Did you not hear me pull the ass gasket from the holder, tear off those 3 annoying pieces that hold the center in place, and sit down? Good god man, another man is taking a shit not 8 feet away from you. Shouldn't that take the bloom off the rose, so to speak? 4. Good fences make good neighbors - This is the most important rule of all. If you have been caught rubbing one out in the men's room, do not, under any circumstances, come out of your stall until all affected parties have left the bathroom. I'm never going to be able to get the picture out of my head of you going over to the sink right next to the one I was at, and looking at me in your mirror with a big contented smile while you're washing your hands. They don't make a body soap strong enough for the ick I felt after that. No amount of showering tonight will do it I'm afraid.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Chester County <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-03-08T12:20:47-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/290529230.html Dear, guy masturbating in the bathroom stall at my work... text free: the worst cat http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/280312344.html Do you like a challenge? Then take our cat. Please. I first heard about our cat about 6 months ago, when I had not yet moved to Philadelphia post-graduation as per my long-standing plans with my best friend from high school. My first impression of the cat was my best friend calling me on my cell phone and asking me how you could tell if a kitten was rabid. My friend had been walking through Clark Park late at night with a friend of hers when a thugged-out man who they took to be a mugger emerged from the bushes. He walked toward them, thrust out his hand and just as they were starting to freak out said with a kind of embarrassed air, "Can you do something with this? I found it sitting in the street and I didn't want to see it get run over but I can't take it with me." The guy had a tiny little two-week-old kitten in one hand, and my housemate took it home and fed it with a bottle and all that good samaritan stuff. She called me up a week later asking if I thought it was rabid because, in her words, "It chews on my fingers and falls over sometimes." I told her that in my experience that's how kittens basically spend most of their waking hours and thought she was overreacting. Well, the kitten wasn't rabid, but neither is he normal. Because he was separated from his mother so early, he's emotionally stunted and doesn't like getting petted and will tolerate it for a bit but then start biting and scratching. The only times I ever hear him purr are when he pretend-nurses on something soft; there's a scarf of mine he particularly enjoys making out with. Because my housemate didn't knock him around like a mother cat would have when she was nursing him in August he never really learned how to play nice, so when I got there in September, he was this tiny little bouncing ball of teeth and claws and aggression who would only react to attempted discipline with the cat equivalent of "Oh yeah? Oh YEAH?? FUCK YOUUUUUUUU!!" He is just not cowable, as ridiculously outsized as he was and still is. Now he is larger (about 8 pounds, I'd say) and less aggressively hyper but still kind of destructive when he gets bored. The cat also had a really horrible case of fleas for a while, which took us hundreds of dollars and a lot of sleepless, stare-at-the-ceiling-while-intermittently-slapping-your-arm-in-a-panic nights. He no longer has the fleas, through great effort on our part. I was not present the first time we took the cat to the vet, but my housemate warned him about the cat's temperament. The vet laughed it off, said he'd seen everything. When we picked the cat up, the same vet brought out the cat all sedated in his kitty carrier, and he looked pretty harried. "Well," he said, "He's certainly RAMBUNCTIOUS." Another story: when my friends first came over to meet the kitten, they were so amazed at how "rambunctious" he was that they suggested that he had to be the the result of some sort of bizarre and possibly depraved feral street cat/ocelot sex. So here's the deal: My best friend, the one who originally got the cat in the park, just moved out a couple of weeks ago, leaving the cat with my two housemates, who hate the cat with a passion, and me. She can't take him with her where she is now, so we're essentially stuck with this cat. However... We can't live with this cat anymore. My housemates hate him and always have, and are in fact in favor of just dropping him off at a farm somewhere and letting him live off the land. I have scratches all up and down my forearms all the time from his "playing" and people look at me funny. He appears to give off an extremely potent dander which particularly seems to affect men. I just went to the doctor and she says that I do not in fact have a persistent cold, and that I, along with every man my housemates and I have brought to the house in the past six months, am allergic to the cat. I have never been allergic to a cat in my life, which makes this particularly weird. So if you like a challenge, or healing troubled cat psyches, then take my cat. In the spirit of full disclosure: Things which may be off-putting about the cat: <ul> <li>He plays rough to the point that my hands and forearms are constantly covered with scratches <li>He doesn't really appreciate being petted other than occasionally being scratched under the chin when he's sleepy <li>He never really learned how to do the mutton-leg form of licking his own butt/genitalia (one leg straight up in the air), and so devised his own method, which is: sit back on his ass like a fat man, spread his legs and wash his junk directly AT you <li>When he wants attention or is bored, he will stare deliberately at you while knocking over things like glasses of water and ashtrays <li>If you have small pets suchas rodetns or fish, he will probably find a way to kill them. <li>He will stare at you intently while you're making out with someone on the couch <li>Gives off enough dander to kill a man (and occasionally a woman) </ul> Things in the cat's favor: <ul> <li>He is fixed, fully vaccinated and healthy <li>He never pees or poops outside his box <li>If you have any sort of pests, he will ruthlessly kill them <li>He seems to get on well with the female cat that lives upstairs when they occasionally meet in the foyer <li>He is absolutely fearless, which I find endearing (you can vacuum him and he just sits there and looks at you quizzically) <li>He is really, really cute - to demonstrate this, I have attached three pictures in decreasing order of age-of-cat and <a href="http://youtube.com/results?search_query=mekon+kitten&search=Search ">these two videos</a>. </ul> I realize that this description of the cat might not be the best way to get someone to adopt him. But I just wanted to have a policy of complete and total transparency about this cat, because... I genuinely think that he could learn how to be a good cat in a house where he's not left alone quite as much as he is in an apartment with two college students who are only home two or three days a week and one 23-year-old with two jobs that keep me out of the house most of the time and exhausted the rest of the time. I won't take him to a shelter, because he wouldn't ever be adopted with his behavior problems and I know they'd probably just end up putting him down. So take our cat... please. He comes with litterbox, litter, food bowls, food, a kitty carrier and our eternal gratitude. <img src=280312344.1.jpg> <img src=280312344.2.jpg> <img src=280312344.3.jpg> <img src=280312344.4.jpg>   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: fairmount <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-02-17T16:12:04-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/280312344.html free: the worst cat text 6 years ago tomorrow.... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/259843945.html I had a malignant tumor removed at the ripe old age of 16. In 1 month, I will have been cancer free for 3 years(I had it twice)--I'm still here, I'm still going to bug you, I'm still going strong and I'm not going anywhere! If you're going through the same thing, know this, there is life after cancer, there is hope to reach the other side, your hair does come back (mine came back black over red but what the hell, who wants to be a ginger anyway?), your life does go on and I'm living proof. A few tips if you're suffering through chemo.... 1. peppermints are great, they soothe your stomach and get rid of that gross taste, use them 2. Lukewarm mashed potatoes are easy to eat when you're having trouble, try a very little bit of garvy and small cut up chicken if you feel up to it 3. Suck on lemons to get rid of that awful taste in your mouth, they won't taste nearly as sour as they normally do 4. When you're feeling well, you'll have cravings like a mad pregnant woman, indulge them 5. Shave your head before your hair falls out, it hurts when it falls out and its a terrible knock to your ego 6. You're going to vomit, a lot, get used to it, once you do, it's not so bad 7. Your tastes change, beef will taste like rotten ass, avoid it 8. Fresh fruit can do wonders to make you feel better, especially fresh squeezed OJ with a bit of lemon juice 9. Keep busy, don't make the cancer your life, do as much as you can 10. Cannot stress this enough, go to penn, Go To Penn, GO TO PENN! Good luck to those who are suffering and congrats to my fellow survivors!   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-01-09T05:36:42-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/259843945.html 6 years ago tomorrow.... text To the black sheep, the outcasts, the lonely... http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/244840090.html I was looking out of my window today, watching the trees and the grass sway in the wind, and it hit me: it has been a little over a decade since I tried to kill myself. Even after I tried to kill myself, for several years after that I was still miserable and depressed and thought about ending it all, all the time. But something strange happened, something I didn't think would happen. Time went on, and all of a sudden, I was happy. Not just happy as a momentary feeling, nothing the result of instant gradification. I'm talking about happiness as a state of mind. I wake up most days, and I'm honestly thrilled to be alive. I look in the mirror and I can tell myself that everything is OK. Before when I did told myself that, deep down inside I knew it was a lie, and that perhaps nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing was alright. And as I sit here and type this, and I get all choked up and tears creep into my eyes, I know deep down inside that everything is alright. I am no longer lying to myself, it really happened. I never thought I could live this life. The happy, simple life. And I just wish I could go out into the world and find all the people like me. The black sheep, the outcasts, the lonely. I wish I could hug each and every one of them, hold them in my arms, tell them that everything is going to be alright. Tell them that all you have to do is survive, just keep going, no matter how much it hurts. One day it will stop hurting. You just have to hold on. But I can't. This is the best I can do. I know that horrible, black, endless abyss inside. I've been there, I've been so lost there. I used to live there. I remember looking around in the darkness and asking, praying, begging for things to change. It seemed like time would stand still and the pain would last forever. That I would never get out. But time goes on and will keep going on. And one day things will change, and one day you'll be looking out of a window, amazed at how fast time really does go by. And you will be happy. Please, don't do it. Please, just hold on. Hold on.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-12-06T04:05:25-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/244840090.html To the black sheep, the outcasts, the lonely... text RANT - 7-11 vs. Wawa http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/236161781.html 7-11 is trash. I know that isn't a groundbreaking statement, but for the sake of argument, I felt it was necessary to state that before we continue. That convenience store has given me nothing but trouble, and yet I return. It's like an ex who drove you insane but still calls occasionally, offering...uh, slurpees. 7-11 could never begin to compare with Wawa because Wawa is just too wholesome, even the ghet-to Wawas I inhabit. Wawa makes the hoagies, bakes the doughnuts, milks the cows, and has fantastic lemonade tea. I'm getting off the point. Let me repeat: 7-11 is trash. It's trash, but I still go. It's the home of many a bizarro energy drink. Truck-stop snacks line the aisles, offering a smorgasbord of midwest-style hick feed. Hostess cakes aplenty, their wax paper and flour waft is almost enough to send me screaming. Day-old hot dogs grill menacingly, biding their time until sweet escape is theirs. The free chilli and cheese nod to each other, knowing the truth about getting what you pay for. The front milk is laughed at by the rear milk, because their time on this planet is finite. Soon, they will be taken away and fed to an infant, baked into something, or poured down the throat of a sweaty construction worker. Chalk it up to the callousness of youth. Rear milk doesn't realize their time is coming. They assume they will expire before they are purchased, dying of old age being preferable to being slowly consumed over a period of days... It's a phenomenon that doesn't seem to phase the fountain drink/slurpee section, where a 24 hour rave is commencing. Available in many different sizes, colors, and flavors, they actually want to be consumed. Their sugar and caffeine content to be absorbed by late night clubgoers, the sodas do not want to be held back. They want to go to the party. The ringmaster is a lean, wrinkled gentleman who speaks a brand of english I have yet to understand. He distributes lottery tickets and other fool's gold. He stands next to a sign that reads, "UNDER 40 MUST SHOW I.D.". It makes me wonder, how do they know how old you are if they haven't seen your I.D. yet? That is one crazy psychic nicotine pusher. After retrieving my bounty, a hint of sadness always remains with me. I am satisfied, yet repulsed, because I know someday I will return. There is a Wawa down the street, but Wawa is like a spouse. Warm, loving, it's reliable, and comfortable. It will be there through the ups and downs. But 7-11 is like the transvestite hooker that does "that thing" you like. Not that I would know, it just feels like it.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> Location: all philadelphia <li> It's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-11-17T11:10:36-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/236161781.html RANT - 7-11 vs. Wawa text To the women who work in my office... I hate you http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/233015033.html Girl with the bright blonde weave who works in reception- I dont know how you got your job, you are so uneducated it makes me sick. Did you graduate grammar school? I think I would respect you more if the answer to that is no. I want to throw a rock at your face every time I walk by when you are answering the phone and you say something like who you callin for? or he in a meetin right now or my personal favorite, who this is? I bet the people on the other end of the phone want to throw a rock at your face too. I also cant stand when I get message notes from you that are written like so: Mr. Smith called hes wanting to kno wen he shuld ecspect the letter of aprovle. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? It amazes me that the only two things in your job description are answering phones and taking phone messages and you cant do either of those things! Tall girl in design with the short brown hair- You have horrendous body odor! Im not talking a little stench here and there I am talking everyday when you walk into the building people drop dead. I dont know how you dont notice it. Im going to buy you deodorant for Christmas. Fat woman who works in suite 19- I dont know exactly what you do for this company, but I know far too much about your personal life. When you talk to your boyfriend on company time, please refrain from telling him it felt so good when he slipped his hard dick into your fat ass! Yea I heard that, and so does everyone else that walks by your suite when you are on the phone. Its disgusting, and we dont want to hear about it, so keep your voice down. Blonde woman who works for accounting- I know that you are 30, not 25 and I also know that at the Christmas party last year you had sex with the bosses son in the broom closet and that he got you pregnant. Please dont insult me in front of our coworkers again or I will tell everyone. Hot girl that works in sales- When you wear that brown skirt with the white flower on the bottom and you sit down, we can all see that you dont wear panties. Boss old receptionist- My name is not, John, Jason, Jack, Jim or Jared its Evan. Middle age woman who works in reception- Your job is not that hard. You answer phones, put people on hold, and take messages. I dont care that you were up late cleaning the house or that you sat up all night waiting for you delinquent son to get home, that does not give you a reason to get rude with a customer or walk around bitching about how your job is so stressful. Half of us come in still drunk from the night before, but we never yell at clients, bitch about our family members or say our jobs are soooo hard. Pregnant bitch- There is only one of you, so no need for further description but let it be known that you are not the first person to ever get knocked up! You are not the first person to get heart burn, you are not the first person to get morning sickness. You are not the first person to pee their pants because the baby put too much pressure on your bladder and you certainly are not the first person who has had strange cravings for cheese and anchovies. Stop complaining about it! Little intern girl- You are so cute with your stringy brown hair, acne and braces but your coffee skills are lacking. All I ever want is a large black coffee but you seem to thing that I would rather a low-fat latte, or a caramel machiato, or even a Chai Tea. Nope I don't want those, I just want a damn black coffee! Also, you obviously don't know your alphabet because my filing cabinet is a mess. F does not come after R, sweetie. Do you want to flunk the class you are doing this internship for? No? You better shape your ass up and get me the right coffee then! Pretty girl who is head of the writing department- You are the only girl who works in this office that I can stand. You greet me every morning with a bright smile and a cheery hello. And you are so damn smart. No wonder you are 22 and head of the department that could pretty much make or break our company. One time I asked you the Circumference of the earth and you kew it! Usually I would think that is weird and dork but from you, I find it really hot. I also like that you are the only girl in the company that hasn't slept with someone that works with us. But for the record, if you slept with me, I wouldn't respect you any less. Hispanic girl who works in design- You wear way too much makeup, I hate that you draw your eyebrows on, and I'm pretty sure you have an adams apple and are a man. 35 year old secretary- You have a 20 year old son, and a 15 year old son... yet you dress like you are 16. I would be embarrassed to be your children. Oh and you look really stupid when you wear that plaid school-girl skirt with the white tights and hooker boots. This is an office... not a brothel.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-11-10T16:56:08-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/233015033.html To the women who work in my office... I hate you text MC with the person who stole my ipod and birth control. . . http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/217082626.html I think we should get married. Or at least date seriously, I mean, you already know so much about me, and the fact that you took such personal things means we have a lot in common. Take the ipod, for instance. You too, are probably a misplaced Red Sox fan, since you took it, cover and all. You searched through a lot more enticing things to get to it, so I know that you really love them as much as I do! That mere fact alone gives us a common ground upon which to build our relationship. Additionally, being that it was full of country music (embarrassing, I know, but I'm from a small New England town, but you already knew that) I'm sure that we could have tons of fun singing along to Tim McGraw and watching the Sox play. You love that dirty water too, don't you? I love the fact that you took my birth control pills. It's so responsible of you. I bet you don't want kids right now either, and are just working to ensure our future together. It can't be that you're an idiot and thought they were actual prescription drugs. I have so much more faith in a country music loving Sox fan! So, dearest theif of random things out of my purse: please contact me, no judgements. And enjoy the music. We should really hook up sometime if my birth control hasn't made you gain twenty pounds or have mood swings (I do have some standards for the men in my life). Go Sox!  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-10-06T19:58:22-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/217082626.html MC with the person who stole my ipod and birth control. . . text to the perv from nj in a bmw http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/213134450.html you: jerking off your limp dick in your car next to me me: ready with my camera phone on my bike go back to jersey  <img src=213134450.jpg>  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around delaware ave and dock st <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-09-27T18:53:08-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/213134450.html to the perv from nj in a bmw text Have A Happy Period http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/208351190.html Ok so Always, the brand that makes pads, is on this whole "have a happy period" kick. Now they put it on their pads, ya know on the little piece of paper that covers the adhesive side, yup in some nice little feminine script it says "have a Happy Period." I see that shit and I'm like what the hell...it's bad enough that they actually say that crap in commercials like i'm really gonna stop and think and be like...wait...I never thought of that...all this time i've just decided to be bitchy, and bloated, and broken out, and crampy and in tears during my period, when all along i could've been having happy periods. On the beach in a bikini (maybe an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot one), or in a coffee shop with my girlfriends who also have their period, but you wouldn't know it cuz we're all just so fucking happy about it. Forget the fact that I'm bleeding like a slaughtered pig, forget the fact that I now have to walk around wearing a fucking diaper hoping I don't bleed on everything, forget the fact that now I'm horny as fuck but can't get any and guys must know when a girl has her period and find us extra attractive cuz they always wanna try to touch your ass on those 5 fucking days a month that you've gotta wear this mini diaper and period panties, and when u ask them not to touch your ass they always gotta fucking ask why, CUZ I'M ON MY FUCKING PERIOD YOU MORON, forget the fact that I'm already bloated but craving french fries, potato chips, chocolate, cake...chocolate cake. Forget all that shit and have happy period. HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HAPPY PERIOD!!?? You can fucking suggest the shit, why don't you give some pointers. Maybe it involves a whole lot of valium, And you know normally I would think that some dimwitted dick came up with that slogan, but no I'm sure it was some high powered business woman in her navy blue skirt suit and stilletto pumps trying to show that she can make it in a mans world...I bet she doesn't have happy periods, i bet she takes fucking birth control year round so that she has no periods, so that instead of spending a week with premenstrual syndrome, a week on her period, another week with post menstrual syndrom and then another week dreding that in a week she's gonna be PMSing again she can have the time to come up with nifty slogans as if telling me to have a happy period is gonna make me buy your product more, like theres something extra special about your pad. Guess what bitch, you've got a product that people are gonna buy whether u advertise for it or not... it's like gasoline, or toothpaste, or condoms we're gonna buy it no matter what, we have to, we need it to survive . so FUCK YOU and fuck your happy period. and for the record, I am NOT having a happy period.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-09-16T23:34:14-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/208351190.html Have A Happy Period text I dropped my phone in the toilet. - w4m http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/199792278.html So we knew each other from before. And I came to see you, as promised. I was waiting for you to ask for my number; it seemed almost certain that you would. Then my friend came back and told me you had asked her for my number, but she didn't have her phone... this was an unorthodox method on your part, but okay, that's enough for me. So I got up to go to the bathroom, knowing that I would go past you on the way back. My friends wanted to leave, so I figured I'd just give my number to you and we'd catch up later. As I approached the women's room, I heard two voices emanating from within the room meant for one person. Man, cocaine gets on my effin nerves. Too impatient to wait for the inhabitants of said women's room to exit, I opt to just use the men's room. It is also a one-person bathroom, so I don't mind. I'm just going to pee in it; its not like its that important. Meh. So I go in and take care of business, being a tad more mindful of touching things than normal. Not wanting to place my cute little hand-woven clutch bag on the nasty toilet tank, I tuck it under my arm while I wash my hands. The hand washing is quickly followed by a need for paper towels, which this men's room ... quite miraculously... actually has? Yay!! I lean forward gleefully to take some, and hear an ominous *plunk*. Oh NO. But it has happened. My entire cute little hand-woven clutch bag has fallen out of the crook of my arm and into this filthy men's room toilet. I give a little resigned sigh... grimly accepting that there's only one thing to do... pull it out. Its a long, rectangular handbag, and only half of it is wet. I open up my poor, sodden bag and remove my quite recently purchased Razr phone. The screen is black. Hoping for the best, I put it in my back pocket. Now for the bag... Its half soaked, and of a light color. I realize that it would not take a mastermind to deduce what I had done. So I opt to turn on the faucet and soak the whole bag, figuring that it will at least appear somewhat normal at a glance. After doing this, I decide that I will of course pretend that this hasn't happened, give you my number as previously planned, and make a speedy exit before I am caught in this situation. Somehow, I don't think that "Girl Who Dropped Her Purse in the Toilet" is what I wish to be known as. Not exactly "alluring". My purse literally dripping wet, I leave the bathroom, saying a prayer of thanks to Bob and Barbara's for poor lighting. I walk up, and say quite frankly that I want to give you my number. You mention about calling me to meet up later in the week, I say that would be great, yeah, okay, bye. I get a plastic bag from the bartender, and leave with my friends in tow. So my phone is ruined. I use my friend's phone to leave a message stating that my phone is "broken" and please leave your number, you know the drill. But after I go to work the next morning, lo and behold... Resurrection!!! My Razr is back from the dead!!! Oh, little phone, I would kiss you if I didn't know the filthy places you've been! I gloriously re-record my message, leaving my normal greeting. I skip off to a concert that night, several hours later, and whip out my zombie phone to call my friend... aw CRAP!!! It's dead again. Dammit. Oh well. I eventually find my friend, and use her phone to check my messages. {insert creepy robot lady voice here} "You have... *two*... unheard messages. *First* unheard message..." Its my friend that I'm already hanging out with, wondering where I am. No need to listen to you, first unheard message. I decide to press the 7 key twice to delete the message while it's still playing and move on to the next, my impatience of course slightly increased because I'm eager to see if you've called. Girls can't help this. 7-7... "Delet-Deleted. First saved message." I pull the phone away and stare at it, wide eyed. You son of a bitch. Oh, you dirty, rotten, bastard of a jerk-ass phone... YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!?!? So I think I dealt with my other adversities pretty well. You can't get through life without a couple of phones in the toilet. But it more than sucks that I have no way to know whether you called the very next day and left a message I will never hear, or whether you never called at all, quite possibly because you may have noticed my mysteriously dripping handbag. Such is life.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around the story of my life <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-28T02:09:12-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/199792278.html I dropped my phone in the toilet. - w4m text Married means MARRIED you moron http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/187640237.html It's getting to the point where I can't even read those stupid personal ads anymore, not even for fun. They're loaded with married people, bitching about their spouses, and looking for something "better". I've got a few things to tell you: 1. "She" is not the reason your marriage sucks. YOU are. If you spent half as much time paying attention to her as you do trolling CL for sluts, your marriage would be a whole hell of a lot better. 2. Yeah, yeah, we've all heard it a thousand times. You're in a sexless marriage. First of all, that's probably a lie, because most cheaters are liars too. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, pal- if your wife isn't interested in sex, it's because you're not offering sex that's interesting. Married guys get awfully boring after a while. They do the same boring thing the same boring way every fucking time and they expect you to scream like a porn star. Seriously, you come home from work, totally ignore her while she chases the kids around for 4 hours, makes dinner, does the laundry, blah blah blah, and then you expect her to roll over with her legs open for another session of same-old same-old? When are you idiots going to learn that the best foreplay in the world for a woman is watching you take care of the kids, vacuum the floor, pick up the dog poo in the backyard. Or how about just listening when she talks? You know, it's not that fucking hard to stop thinking about yourself for five minutes and hear what she has to say. Think about it- way back when, when you were getting your brains fucked out on a regular basis- what were YOU doing differently than you're doing now? Planning dates, telling her she looked nice, acting like you're happy to be with her? A thousand dollars says if you do that stuff again you'll get the same result. 3. Your kids are NOT the reason you're staying married. If you were THAT miserable, you'd leave whether you had kids or not. If you're not getting a divorce it's because YOU DON'T WANT TO. For whatever reason. At least be honest and don't try to feed people that tired bullshit line about staying married for the kids. Contrary to what you think, it doesn't make you look like a poor suffering but honorable victim. You obviously don't care enough about your kids to treat their mother with enough respect not to cheat on her, and you don't care about them enough to spend time with THEM instead of some cheap whore, so cut it out with that crap. There is absolutely nothing honorable about putting your dick ahead of your kids. If you really really cared about them, you would put ALL your time and effort and money into saving the one thing that means most to them in the whole world- your marriage and their family. Otherwise you're full of shit. 4. We all know how bored you are. Poor you, someone should really come along to entertain you. What are you, fucking 12 years old? If you're bored with your marriage, it's because YOU'RE BORING, and have you ever stopped to think that if you're bored, she probably is too. But instead of throwing a temper tantrum like a 2 year old, she's at home cleaning out the lint trap on the dryer and washing kool-aid off the kitchen floor. Yeah, she's having a fucking riot washing your underwear and cleaning up cat puke. Marriage is hard work. Hell, life is hard work. Grow the fuck up and take some responsibility for yourself. You have a brain, USE it. Put some thought into your marriage and some effort into your life and stop blaming her and being a baby because life isn't fun. 5. You're looking for someone "younger". Sure you are. Dickhead. You think you look the same as you did when you got married? I'd bet not. Even if you do, you haven't spent the last 10 years having babies (the ones YOU wanted) and sacrificing your body for them. The next time you have to have someone stitch your asshole together because your just pushed a watermelon out of your butt, then you can sqwauk. If you ever spend 9 months with your belly stretched to obscene proportions, and manage to look exactly the same as you used to 6 weeks later, then you can bitch about how she's not attractive anymore. Until then, shut the fuck up. You have no concept of what she has sacrificed to give you the children you claim to love. You really think she wants varicose veins and stretch marks and saggy boobs? Get real. What she wants is a man who understands and values WHY she has varicose veins and stretch marks and saggy boobs. She wants a man who loves her because she was willing to make those sacrifices with her own body because she loves HIM. Instead, you criticize and go running off with the first perky 25 year old who gives you the time of day. Asshole. 6. And finally, if you're cheating on your wife, there's something wrong with YOU. If you're not happy with your marriage, exactly how do you think fucking some slut is going to fix that? Exactly how is that going to make anyone happy? Have you ever actually heard of adultery working out really well for everyone involved? Are you actually stupid enough to think that you're going to be the exception to that rule? If so, you are delusional and you need professional help. Affairs are disasters- not some of the time, not most of the time, ALL OF THE TIME. You guilt will drive you crazy. Someone WILL find out. You will NOT be able to keep up the lies and the deception. And it will all lead up to a disaster of epic proportions, which leads me to Lucky #7. 7. Here's what you can expect in the wake of your little fuck-fest: Divorce- this is where you lose everything- your wife, your house, half your income and possessions, possibly your job if you're stupid enough to be fucking around with a co-worker, your kids- EVERYTHING. You will LOSE IT ALL. Exposure- this is where everyone finds out what a scumbag you are. And they WILL find out. Your boss, your co-workers, your friends, your family, HER family, your neighbors, the parents of your kids' friends, everyone at your church. They WILL find out. Why? Because your now ex-wife will tell them. She will probably tell everyone she knows, and everyone you know, and she will feel good doing it. Consider yourself lucky if she doesn't rent a billboard. Otherwise, all bets are off. Be prepared. Your Kids- this is where you totally lose the respect of your kids, and you deserve to lose it. They will realize in pretty short order that you didn't care enough about them to keep your fucking pants on. They will see their mother cry and they will hate you for it. They will end up shuttling back and forth between their home and your apartment, and they will hate you for it. Every time they have to tell someone that their parents are divorced, they will hate you for it. And God forbid you decide to "introduce" them to your shiny new soulmate/fuckbuddy, they will REALLY hate you for that. If your kids are really young, you have a little time before all this shit hits the fan, but be warned, it's coming. They will forever see you as the moron who broke up their family. They will know that you can't be trusted, that you are weak and immoral and selfish. And they'll figure it out all by themselves, even if you never talk to them about it. Because your kids are smarter than you are at this point. So, go ahead and whine your pathetic bullshit about how you're a victim and your wife is a horrible shrew. Do your best to convince yourself that you didn't have any choice and your wife "drove you to it." Start with the rationalizations and justifications now, you're going to need a lot of them. Remember that the best defense is a good offense and start a mental list of all the ways your wife is deficient. Make sure to re-write the history of your marriage so that you can say that you were miserable from the first day. Be sure to tell your wife that you love her, you're just not "in love" with her anymore. Deal with your guilt by lashing out at everyone around you. Above all, take no responsibility for any problems YOU may have that caused you to be such a spineless bastard in the first place. Congratulations, you've just joined the Adulterers Club. See you in hell.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around past the honeymoon <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-07-29T04:17:29-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/187640237.html Married means MARRIED you moron text FART MAN SEEKS FART WOMAN - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/168139387.html Hi, I'm a 28 year old single black male and graduate student living in Philadelphia. I'm 6,0, nice body, chocolate brown in complexion, dark fade with a light goatie and deep voice. I speak French and English. I'm a farter. I would like to correspond with a sexy, single Caucasian woman between 23 and 37 years old with a big butt who farts a lot-farts more than the average person, farts long, loud and smelly. I want a woman who just can't stop farting and who considers herself a farter in every sense of the word, so we can get our groove on together. Please keep in mind that the farting part is absolutely the most essential quality I'm looking for in a mate. If you don't fit this description, please do not email me. I also want a mate who's into scat.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Philadelphia <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-06-05T10:32:46-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/168139387.html FART MAN SEEKS FART WOMAN - m4w text Philly through the eyes of Craigs List Haiku http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/149124888.html My Craigs List Haiku Killing time in the office Friday afternoon Schuylkill Expressway Better than Talladega This city kicks ass Inspiring rants and raves from racist slimeballs Philly characters My couch is broken But you can still pick it up List it on free stuff Strictly platonic new in town, looking for friends Good luck in Philly Strictly platonic Married guy looking to "chat" You are really sad Didn't get your name -- You were hot on the R3. He is a stalker. Philly, listen up. When you want cash, that's selling. Please don't post "barter" That crook on skilled trade, Delaware tax evasion. Just stop posting, dude. Fucktards and assbots? And poor spelling and grammar. Show your ignorance 4:20 alert Smokers and tokers abound. Can't see through THAT code. Diamonds in the rough Lots of junk and trash, but wait! Pool table! Free stuff. Best of Craigs List rules. LA, San Fran, Chicago -- smart and clever. TLC houses Lots of potential profits! Really just a shell. Barbies, baseball cards, firewood, china, and clothes. For sale today. Unemployed women satisfy sex needs of men in exchange for cash Eagles, Flyers, Phils Plenty of good seats still left. Quest for a title. Junk. Friends. Tools. Cars. Sex. 4:20. Houses. Toys. Jobs. Craigs List in Philly. Cross Section of Life. Beautiful and disgusting. Gotta love Philly! Manayunk, Main Line. South and West Philly, Northeast. We're all just the same.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around 5-7-5-ville <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-04-07T14:42:45-04:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/149124888.html Philly through the eyes of Craigs List Haiku text TAKE MY SON TO HIS PROM http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/147264786.html I won't go into the whole story, but my son got dumped by the girl he was going to take to his prom. The prom is in a few weeks and I want him to have a date. So here is the deal. Go with my son as his date. No expectations on his or my part other than going to the prom with him. He is tall, fairly good looking, but somewhat unexperienced with girls. He is not a geek as he played on 2 varsity high school sport teams for the past 3 years. What's in it for you. $500 cash for your time and I will pick up the cost of your dress, hair styling, etc. up to another $300. You will be picked up in a limo. Requirements are that you are cute and could pass for 17-19. Thanks.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: -1"> <li> this is in or around Bucks County <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests <li> Compensation: $500 plus (see ad) </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-04-01T13:35:14-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/147264786.html TAKE MY SON TO HIS PROM text Re: Why The Hell Is The Dog Getting Laid More Than Me? - w4m 35 http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/122608407.html Simply put its because animals dont complicate sex with feelings. Animals dont go out for a drink or dinner or whatever. Animals dont have a litany of reasons why they have not gotten out in a very long time. Animals dont say things like Please be under 40, single, good looking, professional or at least well read, D/D free, and available Saturday night. And animals dont say YOU HAVE TO SEND ME A PIC! When an animal is hungry they eat. They dont care much what they eat. Some dogs will eat themselves sick and will eat poisonous things too. When an animal is thirsty they drink. Again, not too much thought goes into satisfying this need. When an animal is in heat they mate. No talking, no dinner and a movie, no nice car, no nice shoes. They give off a pheromone scent and howl to let others know theyre ready. If youre truly a good-looking woman, whos busty, professional, with a big butt, and up for almost anything then the fault is yours alone. Id do you, and most of my friends would do you too. But being a girl is so very hard. You want to get laid, but you complicate things with history and emotion. If you make him shower and make him wear a condom you have eliminated 95% of the threat to yourself. If you carry a gun or a serrated knife then youve cut the remaining threat 5% down to 2%. So there you are, 98% sure hes safe enough to screw. And statistically speaking, most guys are clean and most guys are safe. Just like most guys just want to screw. We like women who like us. If you give it to us well gratefully take it. So whats stopping you? Youre a girl. You have to talk to him. Have to. Genetic compulsion. If you dont talk to him then youd be a guy. Guys dont talk to the hamburger they eat. If youre horny then screw. If youre thirsty then drink. You have to know if he can form sentences like an English teacher, because if he cant talk then he cant screw. At least thats what girls think. You have to know that he has a job, or is looking for a job. You have to know that he lives on his own or hes had a bad setback and is only living at home recently and temporarily because if hes not ambitious then he cant screw. I mean how good could that steak dinner be if the cow was a mammas boy and a slacker and couldnt conjugate Moos to save his life. If he was smart and sensitive, maybe he wouldnt be on your plate in the first place. No I dont work for PETA. No Im not a vegetarian. My point is that women dont want sex. Why is the dog getting laid more than you? Because the dog wants to get laid. Women dont want to get laid. If they did, they would. Women want safety and security and comfort and dependability. Women want a shoulder to lean on, a chest to cry on, a lap to sit on, and someone to count on. Women want to cuddle and talk and share secrets. Women want to go out and be out and stay out. Women want to see a great show, have a great meal, and dance at a great club. Women like dressing up and being seen, but when they stay in women like foreplay. Sex is like dessert, but foreplay is the true meal, the reason you came, the entrée, and the most fulfilling part of the dinner. Women can orgasm standing in the supermarket checkout line. They dont need men for orgasm. They have better toys then men do, trust me. Women dont want sex. Women want to make a deep quality connection with someone who will listen and respect them until death they do part, except when Patrick Swayze haunted Demi Moore. Even death cant keep them apart. How romantic is that? Speaking as a man, were more like dogs. We can be your best friends and were loyal to who feeds us best. Were trainable, if you take the time to train us, but when its time to mate, then mate. Dont have a headache, and dont plan a special vacation to Vermont next month. Step up or step back and let some other woman try. I know this is wholly unattractive now, but why would I cheat if you were giving me sex when I wanted it? Everything cant be blamed on women, but men dont complicate sex with feelings. We just want to get laid. Just like dogs. Well, I gotta be back to work. I hope this was more educational than funny. webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-01-04T14:42:08-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/122608407.html Re: Why The Hell Is The Dog Getting Laid More Than Me? - w4m 35 text Why I'm giving myself a vibrator for Christmas http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/120391123.html Well, once again it's Christmas, and I must admit I am not at all full of the spirit this year. Why? Well, you could say it's because my boyfriend and I split up, or that my parents got divorced and my dad got hitched to some woman he probably met on CL, or because I'm too fucking cheap to buy Christmas presents. Well, all of those things are true, but that's not what Scrooged me this Christmas. In fact, there's no Scrooging going on at all, because I'M NOT GETTING LAID. That's right, folks, I'm not getting any of the ho-ho-ho. No one, not even a fat man in a red suit, is squeezing down my chimney this Christmas. In the past six months, I've had sex exactly once, and it sucked. And I'm starting to get horny. Really horny. There are ominous internal signs of my horniness. My hypothetical "age range" has increased by about ten years in either direction, so that I now carry three accessories in my purse for the right moment with that special guy: condoms, Viagra, and lollipops. I've had sexual fantasies involving the hairy-chested bartender at my favorite drinking establishment, the guy who delivers produce to the restaurant I work in, my forty-five-year-old married boss, a character in a novel I read (an imaginary man! Not only imaginary sex, but imaginary sex with an imaginary person!), John Cusack, the guy at the gym who always wears a Rage Against the Machine T-shirt, and that guy who comes into my restaurant every day with his laptop and orders coffee. I can only pray that my preoccupation goes unnoticed by my friends and coworkers. So, you ask, why don't you just get it over with and get it on? It wouldn't be difficult. I'm attractive, in shape, late twenties, intelligent, decent sense of humor, up on current events, blah-de-freakin-blah. Not like any of that shit really matters to most guys, as long as you have a fully functional and disease-free female genitalia. Well, here's why I'm maintaining my abstinent streak and giving myself the gift that will keep on giving, an Aqua Rabbit waterproof vibrator: 1. My new vibrator will not start begging me for a blow job before I even get him out of the box. 2. My new vibrator will not ask me to "snuggle." 3. I will not have to make awkward post-coital conversation with my new vibrator. I won't even have to look at him. He'll be stashed neatly away in my nightstand drawer. 4. My new vibrator will not tell all the other household appliances that I like to do it doggystyle and be smacked on the ass with a wire hanger. 5. My new vibrator will not shut down just when I'm about to have an orgasm, and if he does, it's nothing that three fresh AA batteries can't fix. 6. There is no chance that my vibrator will give me an STD or impregnate me with a screaming, snot-tipped baby vibrator. 7. When I'm done, I can turn my new vibrator off and he won't grumble or try to lay a guilt trip on me. I won't have to endure ten more minutes of monotonous pounding while I stare at the ceiling and make up my daily to-do list in my head. 8. My vibrator will not steal the covers in the middle of the night or fart in bed. 9. My vibrator will not beg me to get a Brazilian bikini wax or any other costly procedure involving the ripping out of my taint hairs by a complete stranger. And finally, 10. Anytime I want to I can upgrade to the larger, more powerful Synergy model with oscillating action, six speeds, and five interchangeable attachments. My old vibrator will not threaten me, speed by my house at night with his stereo blaring, tell his friends I was a "psycho bitch," or call me up at 3 a.m. drunk and remind me of all the great times we had. You know why? Because he's a fucking vibrator. Merry Fucking Christmas!and I mean that in the best possible way. webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-25T11:32:45-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/120391123.html Why I'm giving myself a vibrator for Christmas text The 12 Craigslist Days of Christmas http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/119923643.html On the first Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to methat dude who pooped on a park bench On the second Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the third Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the fourth Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the fifth Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the sixth Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 6 Jews a-oying 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the seventh Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 7 hipsters sobbing 6 Jews a-oying 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the eighth Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 8 suits a-bragging 7 hipsters sobbing 6 Jews a-oying 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the ninth Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 9 spelling Nazis 8 suits a-bragging 7 hipsters sobbing 6 Jews a-oying 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the tenth Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 10 gays a-preening 9 spelling Nazis 8 suits a-bragging 7 hipsters sobbing 6 Jews a-oying 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the eleventh Craigslist day on Christmas, the OP gave to me 11 religious hypocrites 10 gays a-preening 9 spelling Nazis 8 suits a-bragging 7 hipsters sobbing 6 Jews a-oying 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench On the twelfth Craigslist day of Christmas, the OP gave to me 12 taints a-tingling 11 religious hypocrites 10 gays a-preening 9 spelling Nazis 8 suits a-bragging 7 hipsters sobbing 6 Jews a-oying 5 stupid cunts 4 Homophobes 3 Fucktards 2 nigger haters And that dude who pooped on a park bench webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-22T12:05:26-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/119923643.html The 12 Craigslist Days of Christmas text What I've Learned about Philly on CL over the Past 6 Months http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/119544375.html 1. Every person posting in Rant 'n Raves- whether the OP or someone responding to a post- is a repressed homosexual. 2. The English language now contains pejoratives such as "asshat," "fucktard" and other strange, twisted combinations of the words fuck, shit, cunt, asshole, pussy, tool, retard and dimwit that are used only on CL and nowhere else. I guess it is possible that these may be used in coded messages for the time and location of drug deliveries throughout the city. 3. I'm still not exactly sure what a "BBW" is. I just know that they post a lot on Women Seeking Men and that people who don't like them are allegedly insecure fucktards who are somehow in cahoots with the mainstream media. 4. Even if a woman on CL is not a BBW (whatever that is), the person is still stone ugly to almost everyone. An example would be Jennifer Aniston. Apparently, most men on CL would find her shallow, dead inside, not all that good-looking and hook up with girls much better looking than her every single weekend. 5. The same men who bitch about Jennifer Aniston follow up their supposed weekend escapades by answering Women Seeking Men ads from BBWs and then publically bitching about their rejections on Rant 'n Raves. 6. A lot of the dating pool in Philadelphia is very cheap. I have seen pages of debate on who should properly pay for a date. The tone of these posts suggest that potential couples have come to blows in two-star restaurants over who is picking up the $13 check for two orders of cous cous and a ginger ale. I have always assumed that it was the man who should pay, and that the man should be happy about it. If a girl insists on going Dutch, then face it- you are certainly not getting any from her any time soon. 7. A woman named "Cindy" posts a LOT on Casual Encounters, and she apparently has a lot of female friends who do, too. They're ALWAYS horny and always needs a man right away for good ol' fashioned NSA sex- even if you are broke, unemployed, not good-looking, drive a '76 Pinto and live with your parents. In fact, these types of guys REALLY turn them on! Who would have thunk it? It's funny, though- their reply e-mails always direct you to a pay pornography site and they never meet up with you. Hmmmm... 8. Philadelphia must have the highest concentration of grammar school English teachers in the country. This is why the increasingly rare post on CL that is actually funny, thought-provoking or intelligent is quickly followed up by at least a dozen posts chastizing the OP for misspelling the word "the" as "teh" in the fourteenth line of his otherwise perfectly spelled post. 9. Every male in this entire city is deeply obsessed with his own taint. 10. Every woman in this entire city thinks, like, their boyfriend is, like cheating on them or there is this guy that they work with and, like, they might be interested but they can't, like, tell because he's like 45 and he has a picture of his like 275 pound wife on his desk. Would he really, like, be interested in his 23 year-old secretary who weighs only 115 pounds and has, like, size DD tits? Like, what for? 11. The following people suck: niggers, jews, spics, fags, whiteys, dagos, crackers, wops, wetbacks, chinks, pollocks, South Philadelphians, Pats fans and JM. 12. Magister Ludi really sucks, too. (He really does, though.) 13. In addition to sucking, blacks don't tip. 14. Gay men will pay you for the pleasure of sucking YOUR dick. I always thought that the sucker- not the suckee- was the one to receive payment. Imagine being paid $50 for getting a blowjob? Man, I wish I was gay! I could pay my bills much, much easier! 15. Apparently, I am gay. Every post that may follow this one will tell me so. So will the 12 e-mails in my inbox stating, "I read your post on CL. Want to get 2gether for some hot action? Signed, Hairy Mike" 16. People don't like to shit at work- and when they do, they prefer to be alone in the bathroom. 17. Every husband in Philadelphia has no sex life and cheats on their wives. Unbeknownst to them, many of their wives are also cheating on their husbands. 18. Somebody, everybody or nobody has fucked someone named "Gretchen." 19. This post- like every other in Philadelphia- has no chance of ever making Best Of. Philadelphia posters hate everybody and everything so much that they could never vote anything Best Of even it truly was worthy. When was the last Best Of from Philly? 1999? (I'm not saying this is worthy- but even it was better than War and Peace, it would not receive any votes.) 20. People who post the V-word are very annoying. I guess you guys really are a bunch of "loosers." webmaster@craigslist.org 2005-12-20T16:42:59-05:00 Copyright 2008, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/119544375.html What I've Learned about Philly on CL over the Past 6 Months text Rant: Ode to the Nice girl http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/114087824.html Ode to the Nice Girls This rant was written because a nice girl finally snapped. I've read the tribute to the nice guys; this is my response. This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it. This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize wh