Monday, December 28, 2009

Why they don't call it deanslist

I am addicted to craigslist, but it isn't just about filling my house with other people's crap. What really sells me is the frequent misunderstandings or misspellings that put an entirely different spin on an ad.

They didn't call this site deanslist for a reason.

Take the moron who was selling a beautiful "arm-war" in the antiques for sale section. He got pretty pissed at me when I emailed him that I was mildly interested in the arm-war, but 1-2-3-4 wanted to declare a thumb war instead. He sent a scathing response, calling me an idiot for not knowing an arm-war was a beautiful piece of wood furniture that's used to store clothes and jewelry.

"Furniture? Bummer," I wrote back. "Oh, well, if I can't buy an arm-war or a thumb war on here, I guess I'll just have to settle for some indian leg wrestling in casual encounters instead."

The personal ads is where the best entertainment was anyway. Some people's ideas of missed connections are heavy on the missed part.

One dude had lunch at a local Hooters, and his eyes met "Heather's" briefly a couple of times at his table and he thought there might be some kind of connection. He was going to come back in Thursday for lunch again, and he might just sweep her off her feet right then and there and carry her out of there. Whoa, slow down Richard Gere.

Chuck Woolery wasn't around to break it to him softly that this wasn't really a Love Connection, so it took me about 2 minutes and 2 seconds to drop him a line.

No doubt there were a couple of connections: She took your order, and then she came back with a pitcher of beer and some wings. But that's it, you jackass. Yes, she was smiling. She works for tips, and let's face it, she's basically a pair of tight orange shorts and an owl T-shirt away from being a stripper. I did give him credit that he was somehow able to take his eyes off her cannons long enough to memorize her nametag, though.

Another guy posted he was looking for a "cheep date." I suggested the best way to start is to put down those binoculars and quit taking notes. What he calls "watching" the rest of us call creepy stalking.

Instead, he should hang a feeder in his backyard. Sugar water works nice to attract petite types, or if he's looking for something exotic, perhaps sprinkling some Froot Loops would help him hit the jackpot. But I also warned him that cheep dates can sometimes be looking for a pretty specific type, like mammoths with ridiculously long names who want to keep things so discreet you can only call him your IFWB (imaginary friend with benefits).

Then there was the gal who was looking for someone who is "drug and decease free." Well good luck with that. We all gotta go sometime, sister. I asked if she would she consider someone undead. Vampires like me are all the rage now. Granted, I'm not as easy on the eyes as Robert Pattinson, but I was pretty much decease-free as long as I stay out of the sun and Blade doesn't find me. Also, if she wanted to meet in person (preferably between 11 PM and 4 AM), she would need to promise not to break my heart, or even worse, plunge a wooden stake into it. Also, to get with me, she would need to like blood shooters, bats, caskets, and counting. A shitload of counting.

Then there's the person who posted that she was "board in St. Paul." Sweet. I told her I'm an 8-penny nail and I thought we'd be perfect together. I also hoped she wouldn't hold it against me that I lived in a small plastic bucket with 4,999 roommates. I was pure and had never nailed anyone else. If we hit it off and she let me nail her, she should know if I wasn't nailing her the right way, she could just pry me out and I'll try again, even if I'm crooked. If she got impatient the second time around, as long as I'm halfway in, she could always just lay the rest of me over sideways and it will still work, it just won't be as clean. I really hoped she'd consider a threesome with a Hammer, because it's really not going to work any other way. But let's face it, even the best screw needs a hand when it comes down to it. Sure, hammers are complete tools, but they're not bad as long as they don't try banging your thumbs all night.

But my favorite poster said she was into "roll play." Oh, me too. Especially hot roll play when I wrap myself in tin foil and make myself a baguette. If she wants to find herself in a sticky situation, I can make myself a super sweet caramel roll. I've even been told my sweat smells like Cinnabon. Or maybe we can switch it up and I can be a butter pat and she can be a soft croissant. Oh, baby, foccacia me hard!