As the Clinton-Obama love train gurgles itself into the last-push stumping grounds of North Carolina and Indiana, we’re going to spend the next couple of days doing some exit polling, Craigslist style. Because the real pulse of America lies somewhere between Craigslist and the American Idol voting lines. Unfortunately, none of the Junkbuzzed staff (including Junkbuzzed slaves, submissives, hangers-on) are masochist enough to watch American Idol. So it’s all Craigslist, baby.
We’ve only begun to crunch the numbers, but there are certain things that are glaring out at us already. For instance, according to our w4m polling in central North Carolina, we have ascertained that the women of the Tar Heel state are retarded, or they have possibly been possessed by evil Nigerian e-scammers. But, as always, we want to take the case to the people. Read, and choose.
“I love to listen & talk about deep thoughts and feelings . I am really all-natural and like being free too express who I really am.
Some adjectives too describe me are: good looking, sophistcated, amazing, alluring, and petite.
A dude that I would admire is a male who is shy & does not grumble over small matters. Although, the appreciation of his thinking abilities is a awesome plus, I adore a fabulous listener & someone who is just down to earth.
I love too dance and Im hoping too find a fantastic dance partner .”
Now here, dear reader (citation needed), is what you must do. You have to choose: real-life woman, escort-scam, or Nigerian? Vote early and often, here in the comments, or via email, at [email protected]. But go the extra mile - and prove your case, and win an autographed jpeg of a body part belonging to a member of the Junkbuzzed editorial staff!
LET’S GET A MOCHA AND TALK ABOUT THE BUBONIC PLAGUE
We’re not ones to bash anyone’s kink, considering that the Junkbuzzed staff is comprised mainly of people who like to hit, be hit, or both. But there are times when we as almost-rational adults need to put our feet down (we blog in spreader bars) and call out all the ‘Dark Ones’ who spend way too much time indoors, listening to old Bauhaus records and obsessively reading Anne Rice and Poppy Z. Brite books. We will, however, abstain from the obligatory mom’s basement cracks. Because we used to sort of like Orson Scott Card. Besides. Not everybody has basements.
Because, um…there are certain things that one doesn’t say when they’re trying to attract a mate. Take, for example, this hemoglobin-deficient buffet table of profiles from VampireFreaks.com, after the bat-metamorphosing jump. MORE>>
Hulking mutant John “Bradshaw” Layfield helps enact our latent homosexual ‘let’s-play-fight!’ fantasies each week on WWE television as part of the promenade of glistening HGHed-up queenies in tight vinyl Speedos who pretend to punch each other in the head. But now he wants to help the little guy – he’s hawking his own “sexual enhancement” potion, Mamajuana, which contains neither Cialis nor anabolic steroids. “We’re going after guys who want to take it, not need to take it,” he said. Well put.
And speaking of those guys “who want to take it”, there’s something else they’re going to have to learn to take, if they live in Florida. State legislators are moving to neuter the trucks and trailer hitches of their constituents. In related news, the saying “balls-out” moved quietly back into its cold-storage tackle box as a euphemism. And in developing news, Florida today sunk another inch closer to obsoletism.
Political chair-sniffing: Australian for ewwwwww.
Canadian strippers see jobs outsourced to internet; vow to buy webcams.
And finally, if you’ve recently had a lukewarm orgasm, or didn’t have one at all, look at its label: it probably said Made in China. And if it was an earth-shattering, mind-altering orgasm, well…thank your Mexican friends. Thank you, NAFTA, for last night!
Until last week I thought that a subway crush was a terrible tragedy resulting from a terrorist attack or pop star sighting while on the train. However, SubwayCrush.com has a different idea and hosts a bevy of missed connections style ads from train riders in any of the 5 boroughs (of course if you take the bus, you are outta luck).
The tagline of the site says it all:
Why do they call it a crush?
Because that is how you feel when they get off the train before you can say ‘hi’
Aww, if that doesn’t tug at the iPod strings, I don’t know what does. Just like most missed connections ads, there is a running theme of either creepy, pathetic, or creepy-pathetic. However, since dwellers of New York City are naturally hipper, smarter, and sexier than the rest of us I find myself intrigued. Sure I live 964 miles South of the last stop on the R train (thanks Google Maps!) but I can’t help but marvel at these glamorous people that travel to work in high speed, underground tin cans and amaze each other with their charm and wit. If they can’t get laid, how can I?
For instance, nothing woos the ladies, like telling them you hope they have a wand:
You got on @ 3rd ave. We made some eyes at eachother. You sort of look like a grown up version of the chick from Harry Potter. I’m pretty sure you cast a level 3 charm spell on me. Thanks for that.
How about some poetry in motion?
Are there chapter books under there? Handsome underwear? Will you take me to your lair? Do you have more stares to spare?
And of course, if Casual Encounters is too complicated and you need someone to suggest your mass transit route for you to be ready to hook up (roller-coaster style):
I will be in front of the subway station bathroom at Coney island wearing a Yankees shirt and shorts at exactly 4:30pm today. Any ladies that want a ride on my cyclone can get a free ride. Just say hi and lets slip into a stall and get roller coasting! (link dead but the funny lives for ever)
Remember kids, if you make it clever and leave your trench coat at home, you aren’t a creep at all!
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>>
Namely, the one your internet girlfriend puts up, advertising for a hit man. To kill your wife. Fatal Attraction meets You’ve Got Mail. I can’t wait for this one to be made into a Lifetime movie. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that the internet girlfriend will be played by Melissa Gilbert, with a smarmed-up Michael Gross taking the role of the e-landering husband.
. . . 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.
Oh, Ornella. You still make my boy parts tingle.
A little time-killer from the Keystone State Craigslist. See what sorts of trouble one missing d can get you into?
Damn you, fazzah!
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