PART II: Hey, Ladies!
In part one of this Open Letter, we outlined the circumstances that may bring a normally lucid, forward-thinking (okay, we’re reaching) human of any sexual persuasion to the seemingly Salmonella typhimurium-drenched buffet table of Craigslist. Craigslist is indeed like a restaurant that narrowly tap-dances its way out of Health Board-mandated shutdown every few months, and only because the inspector really loves those fucking spring rolls.
Today, in part two, we address the women of Craigslist. Avec torque.
Ladies. Women. O, curves-endowed soul-searchers of the night. Uncle. We get it. Seriously. We get it already. You like tall non-smokers with Master’s degrees. Who love dogs, fondue, and cuddling. And you don’t want to see pictures of man-junk. Furthermore, it is said that you hate the drama. Fan-tastic. Got anything else to share? Mystery is alluring, dear reader (citation needed), but vagueness for its own sake is simply not going to win you any points in the great poon-up or post-off. Posts that put forth little more than “I like dogs and yoga LOL”, followed with a challenge for the menfolk (those hapless, witless wretches who will be first-responders to your lovelorn distress call) to be original, be witty, be clever, are doomed to horrible, flaming failure.
PART I: The Situation.
Boys and girls, pimps and hos, gather ’round the fan for a sec. It’s time for a little come-to-Jesus on the subject of date-trolling your friendly neighborhood Craigslist. Because it ain’t pretty, folks. You have stumbled, bumbled, and fumbled your way through ill-conceived form letters, capped-up hissy fits, demands of blowjobs and roses, and every spam-artist from NOLA to Nigeria.
This is what Craigslist is here for. Easily attained, NSA sex; used furniture; the occasional zombie sighting; and ultimately a refuge for the nerdy, BBW-sturdy, and sex-over-30 crowds. You prayed, you wept, you toiled and sweat, you wished upon a star domain and woke up to your wildest dreams. You are why Jesus turned a stack of moldy old Robert Heinlein novels into the internet.
So let us set things right. Let us lay down a few ground rules. A gauntlet, if you will, of style and sense. MORE>>
Craigslist is like the blue cheese of the internet. It’s a piquant Gorgonzola with a gentle hint of venereal infraction and oh-what-the-hell-it’s-Friday-and-I-ain’t-got-no-baby bi-curiosity. It goes well with anything acidic, like sarcasm, penicillin, and federal racketeering charges.
Craigslist epitomizes the you-can-too spirit of the internet, in that it takes on all comers (literally, figuratively, and esoterically), and sets them loose in the e-wilds of transactive fulfillment. How blue-veined your soul becomes is entirely dependent on the ph of your desperation. (And desperation is equal to or greater than the sum total of your grammatical errors.)
The beauty of Craigslist is in its simplicity; that, like in any blue cheese, the base fromage can be anyone or anything. For instance. Cute, HWP girl looking for a drama-free hepcat with tattoos who match hers? Penicillium camemberti. Stray dog in need of a quick, consequence-free nut? Penicillium roqueforti, all the way, baby.
Nobody gets it right the first time, folks. So please enjoy this practice quiz from your friends at Junkbuzzed. Match up the people seeking on the left with the people sought on the right. Think of it as the tree-cave from The Empire Strikes Back:
Luke: “What’s in there?” Yoda: “Only what you take with you.”
HINT: “Not Choosy” is assumed, not stated. And, uh…try not to lose your head.
We’re back with the Craigslist roundup, this time celebrating the cultural and sexual diversity of New Orleans. Jazzfest kicks off this weekend, and subsequently, it seems like much of NOLA would like to kick off an ancillary Jizzfest. This week’s hookups, lookups, and all shook-ups, in descending order of raunch, from the Craigslist that care forgot:
From Missed Connections, Michael Brown would like to offer some heartfelt closure. Meh, not such a heckuva job there, Brownie. And why is it that the furtive, desperation-sotted decrees in Missed Connections tend to be creepier than the preponderance of prick-pics in Casual?
The art of the barter in full effect: Jazzfest tickets for NSA sex. Would you fuck in order to see any combination of Tim McGraw, Billy Joel, Santana, Sheryl Crow, or Widespread Panic? Me neither. On the other hand, who wouldn’t gunch some ginch to see Irma Thomas?
More Big Easiness after the jump. MORE>>
It’s been seven slime-drenched weeks since the last primary. And today, the citizens of the Keystone State will be casting their votes. So we thought we’d find out what was on the minds of Pennsylvania voters. Not through any straw polling or exit data - we already know those can’t be relied upon. No, the true nature of want and need can only be found on Craigslist. So let’s take a look, shall we?
This man is so utterly atingle at the prospect of voting that he wants to do some straw-polling of his own. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is caucusing. Boners for Obama!
This sports enthusiast seems less concerned with the primary results than his primary goal of getting you drunk. So he can, you know, enter into a serious relationship with you.
More vaginal-humidity-inspiring frivolity after the jump! MORE>>
. . . Is a sure way to get the ladies (to pee on you).
April Goldden Showers Bring May Smiles - m4w - 53 (Reno/Tahoe)
Date: 2008-04-20, 10:42AM PDT
Anyone like to Pee on me??????????
So simple a request and yet emphatic what with all of the excess question marks. Ah spring, when a 53 year old’s mind turns to getting tinkled on by, well, anyone.
New Jersey has offered up irrefutable proof that the economy is in the shitter: blowjoblessness is at an all-time high.
This rather terse fellow is so desperate for a hummer that he is willing to step back one letter and settle for a gummer.
This poster might be giving the ladies the wrong idea, when he offers a chance to suck, bite, and then suck again.
AND FINALLY THIS YOUNG MAN IS SO DESPERATE TO NUT THAT HE FORGOT HOW TO SPELL HOW TO TURN HIS GODDAMNED CAPS OFF AND WHAT PUNCTUATION IS LOL
Ring the bells, wash your bits, and gather ’round the table: it’s time for this week’s Best of Douchelist!
Like Batman doing his scheduled watch in the Justice League’s pimped-up Super-Crime Accu-Weather Center, I have come across a perfect example of manly douchebaggery. I swear, not all of us are this douchey.
Well, not all the time.
Read ‘em and flag, after the jump. MORE>>
Okay, so Jim’s not dead yet.
From the single-tail carnal ro-day-o! that is Collarme.com, comes this entreaty for love, home appliances, and small creatures.
Oh My Dearest, where now is that tight warm place of yours, those fat, heavy garters, those soft, bulging thighs?
There is a spark in my pants more than six inches long. I will ream out every wrinkle in that slit of yours.
And it just gets better from there, folks. Check out the rest of it over at Collarme.com. (Free registration required - even if you aren’t into tit-whippings, consensual genital torture, and all-night paddlings, it’s still worth checking out for the entertainment value. Think of it as the Craigslist for the sexually deranged.