Best of Craigslist

Best of Craigslist http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best postings from craigslist.org, selected by readers en-us Copyright 2009, craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org webmaster@craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ Best of Craigslist Collection 2008-10-13T10:17:49-04:00 2 daily An Open Letter From Your Local Adult Store Clerk http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/877200282.html Dear Adult Store Shoppers, Maybe you want to buy some pornography or maybe you'd like to purchase some condoms, lube, lingerie, toys, games or whatever other merchandise we carry. That's great, and I hope you find what you want in the store, but please, avoid these pitfalls and be a good customer. 1. If you are a needy as hell customer who asks me to check movies before you rent or buy them to make sure you will like them, I will secretly hate you. All of our movies have people fucking in them. Usually 2 or more people! This much you should know. Now do the following: Look at the box cover. Is it appealing to you? No? Stop, put the movie away and pick up another and try again. Yes? Good! Now, turn over the box. Do you see those other pictures? If none of those appeal to you, don't rent the movie. If they appeal to you, rent it, take it home, wank to it, be happy. If it's not to your liking, shut the fuck up and rent another movie. I really don't care if it wasn't appropriate wanking material up to your fine and high pornography standards. This isn't a restaurant where you can send something back if you don't like it it's a porn store. 2. If you return movies that you rented with unidentified substances on them, you are a nasty motherfucker who should get hit by a bus. I get paid $9.00/hour, which is not enough to clean up your spunk. Wash your hands before you take the DVD out of the player, you nasty ass son of a bitch. After you return that nasty jizz covered movie, I will curse you loudly, put on 2 pairs of latex gloves, use copious amounts of cleaning supplies and then put a nasty note in your account about how you are a nasty asshole who can't return a movie the way we gave it to you - clean and DNA free. Then, everyone who works in the store knows what a nasty person you are. So for the love of Christ, wash your nasty hands and have some respect for the people who work here. 3. If you and your partner come into my store and you want to buy some lingerie, that is great. It's even nice if your husband/boyfriend/John/whatever wants to help you into the lingerie as some of the stuff we sell is hard to get on by yourself. But seriously, don't fuck in my dressing room. That is nasty and gross. Take your lingerie, try it on, buy it if you like it, take it home and fuck there. I wouldn't come into your place of work and fuck on your desk, so don't have sex here in my store. Don't try to be sneaky about it either. If I notice you've been in the dressing room for more than a few minutes, I'm going to come by and knock on the door to see if everything is okay. And if I hear moaning and grunting, I'm going to call the police. 4. Please treat our merchandise with some respect. In any other store would you open up boxes, rip off labels, or throw things around? I doubt it. Also, my store is not a club or a party. I know we are open late, so maybe you really do think this is a club, but I swear it's not. It's a store. We're here to sell things and make money. The things we sell are fun and great, sure, but this is not a place for you and all of your friends to come in and laugh and scream and point (and destroy merchandise, as mentioned above) for 2 hours and then leave without purchasing anything. 5. Don't hit on me or any of my coworkers. That is desperate and gross. Also, you're standing at my counter with 2 tranny movies, some desensitizing spray and a pair of panties. Do you really think this situation lends itself to me agreeing to go out with you? Nope, didn't think so. Also, don't stare at me or my coworkers like we're pieces of meat. Don't ask us inappropriate questions either. No, I won't demonstrate how the toys are used. I also won't tell you what it is I like in bed. And seriously, if you ask me to model lingerie one more time, I'm going to kick you out. 6. Additionally, just because I work at an adult store does not make me uneducated, a freak, a stripper, a prostitute or desperate. I am college educated (and currently in graduate school), well read and a pretty normal person with friends, family, a dog, hobbies, etc. I took this job for a variety of reasons, none of which I have to explain to you. 7. If I ask for your ID, don't give me grief. Take it as a compliment I'm saying that you look youthful and fresh. I can get in trouble and lose my job for letting someone under 18 into the store. Don't bitch about how you don't have your ID (I have to ask you to leave, sorry) or how you have to go out to your car and walk the terrible 30 feet to get it or ask me how old I think you are. You look like you could be under 18. Show me your ID and I'll leave you alone. If all of your friends show me their ID but you don't have yours, I'm going to have to ask you to go outside. Just because all of your friends are 18+ does not mean you are. I know it's a bummer, but it's the rule. 8. And finally, if you are someone who brings your child into the store, you fail at parenting and at life. Thanks, and have a great day. Your Friendly Adult Store Clerk <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-10-13T10:17:49-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/877200282.html An Open Letter From Your Local Adult Store Clerk text I will trade my sombrero for your kayak. http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/764637155.html So, you finally realized that kayaks are work. You would much rather replace all that sweaty paddling with a cool, shady nap under a wide-brim hat dreaming of nachos. You think about all the space in your garage that kayak's taking up and just start to count how many jars of salsa you could fit on that shelf. You remember last Cinco de Mayo when you showed up to the big party sans sombrero. Someone threw a bell pepper at your head. Don't you think it's about time you traded in that kayak for a nice comfortable sombrero? Okay. How about I also throw in a pinata with 300 dollars worth of loose change? Think about it...If you no longer need that 10-12 foot sit on top kayak, I have a sombrero that----and I'm not even lying-----would look stunning on you. You think you look good in that poncho of yours, you just wait until the ladies get a load of you in that sombrero. Meow, indeed. Call [DELETED] to talk details about what's been missing in your life (my sombrero). <ul> <li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul> webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-07-21T22:21:45-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/764637155.html I will trade my sombrero for your kayak. text GameStop Girl, I want to kill robotic zombie terrorists with you - m4w http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/603028751.html Dearest GameStop Girl, When I walked into your store that fateful Tuesday, I expected only to find a smattering of half-decent titles tucked back there amongst the used 360 games. Instead I found you, surrounded by a beam of light, halfway between Assassin's Creed and Call of Duty 3. Your gorgeous dark hair was radiant in contrast with the rainbow of colors on the deluxe Bioshock behind you. The Game of the Year held no interest for me when I saw you look up and smile, even though both could hold me in Rapture. You commanded the register when it was my turn to check out with the Orange Box. Yes, I was finally getting to play Portal. Lucky me, you said with the cutest smile. Lucky me, I thought, and then knew you had the Portal to my heart. I could care less if the cake is a lie, I'd still want to share it with you. Oh GameStop Girl, how you make my heart meter skip a beat. If you were being held captive in a mountain fortress by a ruthless mutant mafia gangboss and I had to fight my way through 16 levels of fire-breathing undead ninjas with swords the size of small ponies, I would find a way, even if, after every level, a small man continued to taunt me by saying that you were in another castle. EVEN IF. So, yes, GameStop Girl, I want to kill robotic zombie terrorists with you. You can even have the deluxe shotgun with explosive scattershot. I'll just use this knife over here. I'll do anything for you, just for the small, slightest chance that someday - someday - you and me could be a Wii.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Chapel Hill - University Mall <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2008-03-11T16:52:39-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/603028751.html GameStop Girl, I want to kill robotic zombie terrorists with you - m4w text overweight, flaccid married man on the prowl http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/513698200.html Yep, my husband, for the third time, is prowling the intertubes looking for some half-blind, brain dead female to tell him he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. He needs to hear this every day - especially when he's sitting in his recliner for the 16th consecutive hour watching the Sci-Fi channel with the remote in one hand and a bag of Chips Ahoy in the other, belching and breathing through his mouth. The lucky lady who responds to his plaintive whining will receive 27 pairs of XXL boxer briefs complete with skidmarks which he will expect you to wash, fold and put back in his drawer. In the bedroom you will receive five minutes of sloppy, wet, tongue down the throat kisses - but please don't expect him to brush his teeth beforehand...oh no. More than once a day is far too much effort for him to put forth, even if he's popped a Cialis and is hoping for a sweaty fuck before he rolls over and spends the rest of the night snoring and farting and drooling on the pillow. During relations the lucky lady will need to work diligently to get him semi-erect, using any and all means possible, with the exception of fellating him, which he does not enjoy. Not that you'd want to put your face anywhere near his smelly nether regions. If you're lucky, he'll get a wimpy little erection and you will have to jump on and pump away before it disappears. Don't worry that you will tire yourself doing all of the hard work, he will come in less than 11 strokes. So, if you come across his ad on whichever "married but looking" sites he is using these days, take what he says with a grain of salt. Oh, and tell him his wife says he's finally driven the last nail in the coffin.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-12-18T21:44:44-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/513698200.html overweight, flaccid married man on the prowl text PAYING FULL RETAIL PRICE! for your used widgets &amp;amp; whatnots http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/470023355.html I'm the Craigslist seller's dream customer... apparently. That Nintendo Wii that only sells for $249.98 brand new with warranty... what the heck, yours seems like such a bargain at $350 (~and~ you say it's "like new"), I'll take it!!! What's that...? You say you're willing to "sacrifice" your late uncle's 1960's Time Life "Romantic Moods" record collection at ten dollars apiece... I'll buy them all!!! Your child outgrew her dollhouse (losing half the pieces along the way) and now wants to sell it for exactly the same price as the iPod Nano she wants for Christmas (uncanny)... when can we meet, I'll be right over to get it?! That lovely $75 sofa that'll be "good as new" with a little Febreeze and a slip cover thrown over it to hide the pet stains... consider it SOLD!!! Ooh, there's that "Special Dool" listed again for only the hundreth time this month... maybe it'll sell this go round. No picture... no problem. That generic one line ad listing you posted ("email for more info") was enough to win me over. I love playing twenty questions!!! And speaking of games... "guess what ridiculous price I have in mind" (aka "Make Me An Offer") is my favorite!!! I don't even mind too much that you're gonna take two weeks to answer my email... I know you're busy and have much better things to do than actually "sell" the items you have listed here for sale. Ok... and so you don't really live in the Raleigh area like you posted in your ad. Sure, I'll drive two hours outta my way (at $2.99 a gallon for gas) to buy your widget sight unseen at twice it's actual value. I'm just the idiot you've been waiting for... drop me an email at ruouttayourmind@nc.lala.com   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Ralalalandleigh <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-11-05T19:16:34-05:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/470023355.html PAYING FULL RETAIL PRICE! for your used widgets &amp;amp; whatnots text Package Deal - Free Husband and Audi http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/377418096.html The title says it all I am looking to give my husband away, and yes, he comes with a 2003 Audi A-4, 3/0, Midnight blue w/ tan interior and teak trim, sunroof, and 6 CD changer. How can you beat that deal free! To sweeten the deal, Ill even throw in a 42 Flat screen TV, only a few months old, and the best watch dog on the planet. My husband is a great catch for the right woman. He is hard working, and totally devoted to furthering his already successful career. He has the most beautiful blue eyes, and thick dark hair. He is a really great guy, not to mention his car is awesome, so I want to make sure he goes to a good home. To insure that he is claimed by the right woman because there is a NO Return Policy -there are a few requirements that must be met: 1) You must either cook, or enjoy Bojangles and cereal a lot. He is able to cook, but simply refuses, and will blame his busy schedule for the lack of effort. 2) He makes a good living, and I promise not to ask for much, but he does have a teenage daughter who you will have to battle for his cash. 3) You must have a large amount of self-confidence. Otherwise you may find yourself becoming jealous of his computer and Blackberry. But dont worry, he wont bring them into the bedroom, so the sooner you get him in there, the better off youll be. A little hint as to how to do this easier, is to have a sporting event playing on the TV at the foot of the bed. 4) You must like dogs! As he will have the greatest watch dog on the planet on tow. This is the best dog you will never have to worry about those pesky door-to-door salesmen. However, I urge you to take some of my husbands money and purchase a steam-cleaner. 5) You must be emotionally independent and able to read minds. He does not feel it is his responsibility to provide any emotional support, or share his feelings or thoughts, in addition to providing a paycheck. However, I must say that for the right woman who does meet the criteria, the sex will be awesome! He is very talented with what I can only describe as God given gifts. He has a special gift, he calls The Boob Thing and it is mind blowing. It is the type of thing that he could make a fortune with, if he charged a fee. If more women knew of this mans talents I wouldnt have to be doing this women would be chasing him, and men would offer gifts of appreciation for lessons. So, there it is a husband, an Audi, a 42 Flat screen TV (only slightly used), the greatest watchdog on the planet, and tremendous sexual satisfaction all for FREE! Please respond if interested. If not, Ill see what else I have around the house to throw in.   <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: The Land of Discontent <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-07-19T12:37:56-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/377418096.html Package Deal - Free Husband and Audi text Me: "Long day?" You: "Smell you later." http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/357773836.html You: Math doctoral student with a minor in art, a taste for spicy Indian food, fantastic and wandering aimlessness in life, dusty blonde hair, and deep, pretty brown eyes; window seat on American flight #1490 from OHare to RDU. Me: Seeker of some degree no one's ever heard of with a minor in English, a taste for spicy indian food, sweat-soaked insulating long sleeved shirt from flying in out of the cold, smelly green plaid shirt, 4 days of stubble, greasy hair, shitbreath from the burrito I had at OHare (why not? I was there for 7 goddamn hours), and the type of body odor that can only come from not showering after spending all day in a car and the hot sun and drinking until about an hour before hitting the road for the airport (where I spent all day before seeing you). I probably had stinky feet, too, and I was wearing flip-flops; middle seat on American flight #1490 from OHare to RDU after spending all day chasing cancelled flights. I said "I've almost never talk to anyone on the plane." You said "I guess usually give off the message that I don't want to talk on the plane." Why haven't you called? Are you telling me you weren't drawn to my pheremone soaked clothing? Was it the big dirt stain on my shirt, or the way I kept getting tomato juice on my pseudo beard/moustache? Was it the fact that I was hungover and living off an hour of sleep and rattled off non sequitors like nobody's business? I've heard I have nice eyes. You don't like red? Is it because I awkwardly handed you my phone number as if it might be nice if you called, but only slightly more nice than hearing from Ed McMahon in the mail? Should I have blown some more shitbreath in your face while asking for your number? Are you saying that I didn't impress you with the book which I punchdrunkenly confessed that I only carried so I would look smart? The book was even called "The Idiot." That's what we English minors call "Irony." Was it the story of my horrible digestion problems in India? Isn't Delhi Belly sexy? The beer smell on my luggage? My attempts to express my admiration of you by saying "Yeah, that's really cool. I really think that's cool. That's just... cool," and then staring off into space because my brain just ceased all electrical activity due to the lack of sleep and sheer aggravation of spending a good part of the day waiting on the tarmac for the rain to clear up? Well... I'm sitting here, hoping you might call. I'd wish I could ask for a chance to make an improvement on the first impression by making for you a nice greek salad and some whole wheat sourdough bread, but when I got home I realized I'd forgotton to take out the trash, and I now have several generations of fruit flies on every surface in my house. How's your place? So... if my phone number didn't make it's way permanently into your trash can, I'd still love to get the chance to make a new friend in you. I promise I'll shower next time.  <ul class="blurbs"> <li> Location: Chapel Hill <li> it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2007-06-22T11:26:00-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/357773836.html Me: "Long day?" You: "Smell you later." text Profile Pet Peeves http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/217976616.html This applies to Myspace, Facebook, AIM profiles, and any other online medium where narcissistic young people like me represent themselves. If you have one or more of the following statements in your profile, I probably hate you. In no particular order: 1) People who say "music is my life," but don't play an instrument or sing at all. Kind of lazy, no? Let me clue you in: your only relation to music is that you consume it. You are to TV on the Radio what a geek is to Star Wars: a hobbyist. Don't pretend to understand music you have no idea how to perform or analyze just because you have a humanities degree. 2) People who say they enjoy "eating, hanging out, movies, going out with friends." EVERYONE DOES THESE THINGS. Do you like sleeping? Me too! We should totally hang out! 3) People who say that they hate "fake people and liars." It doesn't help that they usually spell it "liers." Who ARE all these fake people running around that I keep hearing about? If everybody hates fake people, then how can there be anyone left to be fake? Maybe the fake people just don't have Myspace pages. Yeah, that must be it. 4) People with kids. I don't mean to sound like a prude, but when you bring a life into the world, the part of your life that involved Myspace is over. Or at least it should be. It pains me to think of the rearing your child will receive when his mom's profile still lists "clubbing and going out" as interests and has "riding dirty" as its embedded song. And enough with those creepy calendars that tell us how big the kid you are expecting has grown to. I try not to think about what is going on inside a person's body until I've at least met them in person. (Side note: I haven't seen any yet, but it is inevitable that there will soon be baby Myspace pages, i.e. mothers setting up accounts for their babies and writing crap like "my mommy is typing this for me" in the "about me" section. These children will have all their relatives and playdates added as friends and will keep their accounts as they grow up and get old enough to use it themselves. They will never remember not having a Myspace page. This makes me fear for our nation's future.) 5) "You either hate me or love me." My attitude towards 99% of the people I meet is "don't give a shit." To presume that you could command either my hatred or affection is incredibly arrogant. It also means you're a drama queen who can't stand to be ignored for five seconds. 6) "wut's up" You goddamned fucking retard. One letter cannot possibly cost you enough time that it's worth sacrificing your dignity. 7) "I believe in (veganism, atheism, satanism, whatever). If you can't handle that, then you don't need to read any further." Pretty much the same as number 5. Stop trying to make your hobby sound like your life's consuming passion; I bet half your friends don't even know about your -ism and they "handle" you just fine. In fact, you're probably writing about it so confrontationally because you don't have the spine to say such things in real life to real people. 8) Jailbait. If you're 15 or under, then do us all a favor and get the fuck off of Myspace. Now. Unless you like long van rides with forty year old Harry Potter enthusiasts, no good can come of it. It's not just concern for your safety that makes me say this; you are going through the stupidest years of your life, and broadcasting them into cyberspace. If there was a google-cached copy of all the idiotic things I wrote in my friend's year books, I'd probably want to hang myself. Which brings us to... 9) Dead kids. Wow. You died. That sucks, it really does. Now could one of your surviving relatives have the decency to take your page down? I know it gives your friends a place to type that they "miss u so much" (Jesus the Jew, can't you even spell correctly for your friend's EULOGY??), but you're giving me the creeps, smiling at me from that profile picture like you're still among the living. Exactly how long is your grieving family going to leave that page up? Forever? Forever-ever? Ever-ever? I guess your friends will finally have some closure on your death when they move you out of their top 8. I just really hope that when I die, there won't be an eternal monument to all the terrible bands I liked right before I kicked. Well, there are more of these, but you get the point. Please, people, remember that these websites are just shrines we set up for ourselves. The more effort you put in to showing the world how unique you are is probably proportionate to your superficiality and egotism. Just tell me enough information to let me know if we could hang out. And don't worry, I'm not a fake person. Or a lier.  <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 2006-10-09T05:49:26-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/217976616.html Profile Pet Peeves text To the creepy security guards http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/210743305.html Leave the baristas alone. We will never fuck you. EVER. Stop making CONSTANT awkward conversation about absolutely nothing at all. Stop standing there smiling at us as we enjoy a mutually uncomfortable silence. Stop staring at us from across the lobby when you think we can't see you. Stop coming up with utterly transparent excuses to be on that side of the building. Stop pretending like you're looking at the food when we all know you never buy anything. It's not that you aren't pleasant, well-meaning fellows. We can tell you're just lonely and bored and, on the whole, probably not creepy rapists. I'm sure you do very well with the girls in bars. But we aren't girls in bars. Most of us have degrees or are working on degrees. We didn't take this job because we're retards who can't do anything else and will fuck the first man to make us feel good about ourselves. Nota bene: Most girls who work in coffee shops love nothing better than to sit quietly -- that means NOT TALKING, and especially NOT TALKING constantly and almost without stopping for breath -- with an equally quiet activity. A book. A crossword puzzle. A journal. The Internet. We do not enjoy being stared at during or unnecessarily interrupted from these activities. We certaintly do not put the "bar" in "barista." In accordance with this: I am not impressed, Mr. Security Guard #1, by the fact that your anthropologist sister is pre-med -- well, she was, but she changed her major, and then she left school and then she went back to school and decided she wanted to be an anthropologist after all, even though there aren't really any jobs for anthropologists, but she's an anthropologist, and she's pre-med... Oh, and also, her husband, he's a dentist, he went to Dentistry School because he's a dentist, and the reason this even came up at all is because you're pleased that you happen to know where the library is, and you learned that I, too, know of the library and the wonders contained therein, though as soon as I dropped, with the most artfully subtle emphasis, the word "boyfriend" into the sentence "My boyfriend and I went to the library the other night for this sci-fi book club," you complimented me on how smart I look, followed by an immediate and thorough inquisition into the student status and/or occupation of the aforesaid boyfriend, and where I met the boyfriend, and, oh, it's cool I met him in college, your sister, she went to college, too, she's an anthropologist... THIS WILL NOT MAKE ME FUCK YOU. I will NEVER fuck you. And there is nothing you can do to convince me. My Boyfriend? The one you were so eager to learn about? His name is on the same lease my name is on. It's also on the same joint bank account. And the same renters insurance policy. His penis and my vagina often occupy the same physical space. Thus, you cannot woo me, Mr. Security Guard. And please convey the same to Mssrs. Security Guards 2, 3, 4, and so on, and to the minute handful of male, non-security employees to whom this memorandum might be relevant. In particular, convey this to a certain jolly Baby Boomer who used to be a favorite of us all, until he approached my female coworker once she was alone and wistfully declared how he wishes he was a little younger and she, a little older. I'm sure she would like him to know that she, like I with you, was not impressed. NONE OF US ARE. Not my coworkers, not the trainees, not my supervisor. We are aware that we can't report you for sexual harassment because you don't touch us, you don't talk to us while we have customers or otherwise interrupt business, you don't directly come on to us in any discernable way OTHER than your sauntering, your chattering, your appraising eyes and crooked, approving smiles. Unfortunately, being creepy and inept is not a crime. But we are still severely disenchanted, nonetheless. So please, please: Do us ALL a favor. Relocate to an actual bar, where any one of the female denizens will be suitably wasted and vacuous enough to appreciate the enthralling plethora of inanities you will so ingeniously weave for her. She will surely find it deliciously cute that you pronounce the "th" in "smoothie" as a "v." She will be enraptured by your latest treatise on the current state of the weather. She will find your bafflement and awe at the sublimity of touch-screen monitors, such as the one we use at work, marvelously quaint, for she, too, will not know quite what year it is. But we DO know what year it is, Mssrs. Security. And we know much more beyond that. And we implore you: for the preservation of your egos and our sanities, invest your time and efforts elsewhere. Your cock is blocked; you shall not pass; we are not the droids you're looking for. And you, Mssrs., are definitely not our Jedi. Couldn't possibly be more sincere, The Misanthropic Brunette, on behalf of her look-but-don't-touch-and-if-at-all-possible-don't-even-look coworkers.  <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Downtown <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-09-22T11:53:57-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/210743305.html To the creepy security guards text Rant: Post Office http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/207219727.html Rant: Post Office Yet another 40 minutes spent in line at the United States Post Office. When I arrived, I simply wanted to mail a package (media mail) with delivery confirmation. Look who was in front of me: Old Fart with Hair in Ears: You must be 80 years old, if a day. Is this your first time to the post office? I figure it must be since you had the clerk list EVERY POSSIBLE METHOD of mailing your damn package! When the clerk finally stopped and looked hopefully at you, you then began asking the most inane questions imaginable: Is delivery confirmation the same as certified? Will the recipient be told the package is from me? (I still have no idea what he meant). If I send it next-day-mail will it get there in three days? Fat Woman with Dirty Feet in Dirtier Sandals: Heres a tip: have your package packed and addressed prior to getting to the window. You had plenty of time in line. Heck, you probably had plenty of time at home. Indeed, since you are grossly and morbidly obese with the filthiest feet I have ever seen, only exceeded by those black sandals (which I think were originally white), I imagine that you have had nothing but idle time on your hands for the past decade or two, except when eating. Why wait until you get to the window to address your package? Oh? Whats that? You werent sure what state Indianapolis is in? Oh. I see. I bet your friends or family in Indianapolis simply toss your package as soon as it arrives at the house. I sure wouldnt open anything from a fat fleabag like you. Fat Guy with Dirty Overalls: Passport Application? Where in the hell do you think you are going? We had to stand and watch as you asked the clerk about what every question on the application meant, including County of Residence, and then watch as you started to fill in the form with what appeared to be a black crayon. I mean, seriously, do you really think the U.S. authorities are going to let you leave our country and travel abroad, where foreigners can see you? Our reputation is bad enough. Of course, it is possible that you were with Fat Woman with Dirty Feet, and so think you need the passport for travel to Indianapolis. Im glad the clerk told you to move your butt and fill out the form elsewhere. Middle-Age Woman with the Wool Hat: Did you have to look at EVERY damn sheet of stamps in the place? Stamps are used to put on envelopes for mailing. Just ask for a damn roll of stamps and take whatever the clerk feels like giving you (usually American Flag). We are sorry that the post office was out of Quilts of America stamps; we understand that your soul pined for these quilt stamps which you did not realize existed until you saw the picture of them in the glass case next to the counter. However, did you have to explain to the clerk why you like quilts? Did you honestly have to tell the story of the quilts your grandmother used to have and passed down to you, or that they were airlooms, or that one quilt takes 100 years to make? (I actually doubted that last statement of Middle-Age Woman with Wool Hat; it seems like a long time to make what is essentially a blanket). Mexican-American Male with Relatives Back Home in Mexico: Jesus, how many money orders do you need? Ive been standing here for 10 minutes while the clerk prepares money order after money order. THEN we have to wait while you address the dozen or so envelopes to put the money orders in. I guess I enjoyed, to a reasonable degree, how you suddenly could not understand one blessed word of English when the clerk asked you to step aside so the next customer could be waited on. Instead, we all watched as you painstakingly addressed each envelope to your relatives back in the Old Country (using, I think, the same black crayon as Fat Guy with Dirty Overalls). Well-Dressed Gentleman with Briefcase: One Stamp? You literally stood in line for 30 minutes so you could check the postage on your envelope, only to be told you needed another 20 cents? And you paid with a Twenty? What the hell is going on? Pregnant Woman with Hyper Child: keep your damn kid by your side. I do not appreciate your child doing a war dance in front of me, or staring at me like I am the freakiest thing she has ever seen (which rather unnerved me and was a blow to my self-confidence, given some of the people standing in line). I do appreciate that when you reached the window that all you wanted was a Change of Address card, which the clerk pointed out were in a basket on a nearby table. Ah well, at least your child got the opportunity to irritate fellow human beings. Young Lady in Front of Me: You were pretty good-looking, so I was rather pleased that you were in front of me. I was also impressed, as Im sure everyone in the post office was, that you are one of the few in this land of ours to have a cellular telephone and that you have friends to talk to on said phone. I wonder, what do your friends really think when you call them out of the blue, due to your being bored standing in line, and ask them what are you doing?, only to not wait for an answer but to dive right in into a detailed description of your day? Take it from me, no one cares what you had been doing for the past few hours, especially since you appear to lead an utterly shallow, pointless life (ok, good, so you got some damn overpriced coffee at a Starbucks and then went by the cleaners, only to find out they do not open until 10 a.m.). Plus, when you finally get up to the window, and mailed your manila envelope for $2.62, did you really have to pay with a damn credit card? You didnt have three lousy bucks? Also, dont you understand the difference between a credit card and a debit card? Is that why you asked the clerk which is the one with the numbers (I think she meant that you had to use a PIN number to activate). Of course, when I got to the window the clerk spent five minutes trying to convince me to mail my book via next-day delivery instead of media mail. Meanwhile, the people in line behind me are glaring at me like I am holding things up. Sweet.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around fw-d <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-09-14T12:38:46-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/207219727.html Rant: Post Office text RANT: Old People Smell Funny, and Other Life Lessons From EMS http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/200282956.html It's a fact of life. The older you are, the funnier you smell. Everyone remembers wrinkling their nose at the occasional malodorous burst that your grandfather would emit from his recliner. We all have that one Great-Aunt who never quite got the message that bathing in lilac perfume not only didn't make her attractive, but was also socially inappropriate at funerals and baptisms. Eventually though we're all going to reach the age when our olfactory abilities are no longer quite up to snuff, and then we too will join the ranks of the Funny-Smelling-Old-People. In the hopes of brightening the lives of all of the various and theoretical individuals who will be involved in caring for us though, let me offer a few ground rules that I've thought up during the course of my intensive studies of the aged human. Rule Number 1: If you piss yourself, change your garments and/or bed sheets immediately. If unable to fulfill this task immediately alert your caretaker to the problem. If caretaker is a lazy fatass NA in a nursing home, threaten to cut some bacon off that bitch's ass if she doesn't get you some new drawers. This may seem like a no-brainer, but when you have no brain (quite literally, as the Alzheimer's disease has put millions of little holes through yours) you might need a little reminder now and then. This is a bigger problem with little old men than with little old women. These 80+ year old gentlemen have worn the same pair of tighty-whities since Churchill was smoking cigars and fending off Nazis, and by God you're not going to change that habit now. True, the tighty-whities would now be more appropriately called tighty-yellowies, tighty-brownies, or tighty-WHAT THE FUCKies, but the stench of old ball sweat, urine, and last weeks nursing home brand chili-con-carne is appealing and soothing to the most ancient of men. All the same- fellas, change it up every now and then. If for no other reason than to spare the young paramedic who's come to pick you up off the floor the overpowering stench of your manly musk. The gentleman I picked up last night had been on a "Nothing but asparagus, and garlic" diet for about a week based on the incredible odor that was released every time he spread his sizeable thighs. Rule Number 2: If you have a colostomy bag, wear it. ALWAYS. According to Wikipedia, a colostomy is "a surgical procedure that involves connecting a part of the colon onto the anterior abdominal wall, leaving the patient with an opening on the abdomen called a stoma. This opening is formed from the end of the large intestine drawn out through the incision and sutured to the skin. After a colostomy, feces leave the patient's body through the stoma, and collect in a pouch attached to the patient's abdomen which is changed when necessary." I don't know how much more detail I need to go into on this one. The implications of not following my rather simple directive are obviously severe, but sadly it's a problem that millions, if not billions of Americans face everyday. At least it seems that way to me. Letting shit literally run down your entire body, including into the open, gangrenous wound on your foot is just bad form. There's nothing at all Christian about doing that. As a matter of fact, didn't Jesus say "Thou shalt not let shit run down thy body", or something like that? I'm pretty sure I read that in Gastrocnemius 13:4. Of course if you do let all of this happen to you, you're probably crazy enough to latch onto the railing of the staircase with your old-lady claw hands, and contort yourself into an ungodly position. And did you just manage to get your head stuck between two of the support posts for the railing? You did? Good. Time to call the Fire Department. Rule Number 3: Do not, at any time, place your nasty old-lady hands anywhere near the paramedic's genitals. "Ma'am, with all due respect- please stop cupping my balls. I don't care if I do look like a guy you fucked in 1928" Yeah, I'd hoped to make it to at least 21 before I had to use that line, but unfortunately my chosen profession will afford me no such luxury. This rule doesn't have as much to do with terrible smells as the others, but it's still an important announcement for the geriatric population. Once you top 60 (and I'm being generous there) it is imperative to the psychological well-being of those around you that you adopt a perfectly asexual lifestyle. IMPERATIVE. To the younger folks reading this: work hard in school, and develop the anti-Viagra. Work hard to pass a Congressional measure requiring all old folks to take said pill. Rule Number 4: Ladies, take care of your teats. Everyone likes American Cheese- nobody likes Boob Cheese. There is nothing worse than boob cheese. It ruins my days, and haunts my dreams. It stalks me in my nightmares- sneaking up behind me all curdled and smelling like a septic tank with a yeast infection. It's a known fact that failing to lift up your titties and clean underneath (especially if they hang to your knees) will result in the spontaneous formation of boob cheese. Now before you get all spiritual and assume this is some sort of divine creation of new life let me assure you that if I didn't was parts of my body all sorts of little creepy crawlies would grow there too, and I'd have no part in their creation. Now many of you may be wondering why I'm dealing with old lady funbags in the first place. Well sadly enough a few years ago they decided that paramedics were intelligent enough to apply a few stickers to a patient's chest, look at a few wavy lines on an ECG, and determine whether or not someone was having a heart attack. This would be a good thing, if placing some of those stickers didn't require diving into the heart of darkness that is the underside of a 94 year old woman's 37lb breast that you have to start lifting from below her shin. I kid you not; this woman was scratching her left nipple with her big toe. So there you have it. Rules for not smelling terrible in your old age, and for making the life of your medical care provider that much better. Oh, and really, no matter how bad they smell old ladies are still sweet as can be.   <ul style="margin-left:0px; padding-left:3px; list-style:none; font-size: smaller"> <li> this is in or around Chapel Hill <li> no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests </ul>  webmaster@craigslist.org 2006-08-29T02:34:38-04:00 Copyright 2009, craigslist.org http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/ral/200282956.html RANT: Old People Smell Funny, and Other Life Lessons From EMS text