Bathroom Reads

So.  Boredom strikes sometimes, and it cannot be fixed by music, reading, writing, meditating, or running.  Hitting YouTube will only lead anybody to waste hours for nothing.  What is my cure?  Craigslist.  The Best of Craigslist, specifically.  The posts found there can not only inspire one to write, but these posts can cause extreme elated moments, euphoric almost, and you may crap or pee yourself.  You cannot prevent unsuspected bowel movements (UBM), so my suggestion is to read the posts while you’re on the porcelain throne.  This will save you time and trouble for the future.

In all seriousness, these are actual posts taken from Craigslist.  I did not take the time to fix spelling and grammar.

I.  Personal Quality Versus Confidence

I have learned so much in such little time.  For instance, I learned how to properly post a Singles Ad.  I would have posted this here, but this is too long to post.  Find it here.  Due to the length, I suggest you reading it if you have a lot of time, or if you are constipated.

II.  Romantic Encounters

A lesson was learned as to why we don’t make eye contact in the subway while traveling through New York City.  This is also a long read.  This takes romance out of hopeless romance.  It’s simply helpless.  Another long read, and this involves subway romance… and Skittles.

No me gusta Skittles.  They’re awful.  They should be called Shittles.

III.  How To (Not) Pick People Up at a Bar

To the woman I accidentally punched  – m4w

It was last Saturday and I was at the bar. My shitty boss made me work late Friday and then early Saturday morning. Then I was laid off at the end of the day. Needless to say I was pretty upset and in need of a good long night at the bar.I got there straight from work at 6.30 and sat at the bar. You were a few stools down and there was a few people between us. About 11.30 there was only a few of us left and you moved down to the stool next to me and we casually chatted for the next hour before you started making advances at me. First off, I was very drunk at this point. That’s important for you to understand.Now, one of two things went horribly wrong here. Either I was so drunk that anything I said was impossible to understand or you were too drunk to put two and two together. You see, when I kept saying things like “thank you but I’m not like that” and “I’m not gay” it’s because I thought you were a man. So naturally when you(who I thought was a man) tried to kiss me I believed it was time to fight and I punched you. I admit I SHOULD NOT have tried any wwe moves after that but I’m not a very good fighter and I was in attack mode.Enter the large biker type guys playing pool in the back. If I would have known they were your brothers, I would’ve made out with you even if I thought you were a dude. Long story short, I hope that my 3 broken ribs and my missing tooth(it’s right in the front by the way) are enough to make us even. I would still like to be friends and hopefully we can look back on this and laugh one day. I don’t want to date but we can drink beer and lift weights or fish or something. Hope to hear from you.
IV.  Where to Buy Your Next Car
  Sick-Ass 88′ Mazda B2200
Dropped 88′ Mazda B2200, guaranteed to melt some faces.  In need of the prow to seduce the lady of your dreams?  Wanna stick it to the man from a few inches off the ground?  If the latter’s the case (and it most likely is) then this kickin’ chicken car is for you.  I bought this car in 2009 and immediately grew a mustache upon taking it for a spin.  This car WILL turn you into a man (or woman depending upon the buyer).  At the very least you’ll be transformed into something, maybe a bear (that’d be badass).Features: It might change you into a bear (anything’s possible, just saying).It’s got gears and shit- Unlike the ‘lazy good-for-nothing’ car culture of today, people in 1988 used 3 pedals like red-blooded Americans.  Keep this simple equation in mind: 5 speed manual= not a communist.Sporty racing seats- Nothing says, “I feel like I’m going faster than I actually am” like some quality seats.Steering wheel- You’ll need this.Wheels- They’re necessary.Four-cylinder engine- You probably won’t blow your neighbor’s Mustang out of the water, but you’ll have plenty of time to steal his wife while he’s busy filling his tank.  28mpg’s means plenty of time for cougar cruisin’.

It purrs like a kitten, literally.  With 111,958 original miles this car still has plenty of head-turning left to do.

Fabulous features not enough?  I’ll throw in my friendship to sweeten the deal.  You (the new owner of a fabulous yellow truck) will call me Nathaniel Dibbington.  I (Nathaniel Dibbington) will sit shotgun regaling you with tales of manly exploits as we sing songs, navigate the treacherous waters of the Tigris, and climb the stony Caucasus mountain pass.

If you’re interested, swing by and fall in love.  Also, the Mazda B2200 is technically a truck.  It has a bed and various truck-like components.

V.  Reality Checks
Drunk girl on my lawn – m4w
There I was, just yesterday, I can remember it so clearly. I woke up around 2 AM to take a nice fat leak when I noticed your squeeky giggle outside of my window. I looked out my window half naked as an odd mix of shock, disgust, pity and blush washed over me.Not only were you a stunning redhead just a little shorter then me with, what looked like, a curtain and drapery matching combo, but you were also taking a dump and piss on my lawn at the same time. For that I have to give you props, I don’t think I’ve ever achieved that level of toilet mastery.I immediately came out to see if you were alright or needed a ride home, seeing as this town isn’t exactly well suited for, what I’m guessing to be, an 18-21 drunk girl at 2 in the morning, but me coming out in a bathrobe and asking apparently scared you because you started running with a turd still sticking out of your ass and dove headfirst into my car, leaving a dent in it.I told you to hold on as I was gonna shut off the car alarm and get you an ice pack but I’m not sure if you heard. What I am sure of though is that you sat on the trunk of my car smearing shit all over it, took off your shoes, left your half full smirnoff bottle and ran like hell.Normally I wouldn’t let a girl shit all over my things and put a dent in my car until we’ve gotten on a first name basis but for you I think we could work it out. You know where I live.
VI.  How to Make a Great First Impression
Girl in my apt who saw me fall down my stairwell naked. – m4w
I dont know why this would be necessary, but we live in building located by Addison/Lakeshore.And I’ve seen you before and you have seen me.  About a month ago we had a talk as we both got our mail about getting a dog and my thought was; Hey, become friends with this girl, then woo her into a relationship and start a family, etc.Well today, or this morning rather, the worst thing happened and I am literally hating myself.Yes I am one of the few assholes who actually gets the newspaper delivered to my apartment (so I can clean my windows and start Bon Fires easier).  What’s more, I sleep naked.  Judge me all you want but it’s just what I do.  I’m like a caveman I suppose.  I’ll continue…Walking around this morning as I used my morning wood to hold up my IPad, I picked up some things here and there then looked out my eye hole to see my paper was delivered but about 10 feet from my door, right by the start of where the stairs decend.  It was early, so I didn’t fear getting caught and being as it was laundry day I just didn’t want to calculate the energy it would take to get sorta dressed just to get the stupid Trib.  And so, with my eyes still blury from my deep sleep the night before, I spring out of my door to grab the paper.  I had been planning to lean over and grab it and then run back inside.  You know that thing where you lean over and one foot comes up while the other stays on the floor?  Regardless of the dangers involved exposing your butthole this close to Boys Town especially if you work out as I do, it still seemed like a simple maneuver.Sadly, I did not execute it that well.  And though you are partly to blame, I am not mad at you.  Ya see here is what you need to know.  The minute, the exact minute I grabbed the paper, the door to your apartment at the bottom of the stairs shut, quite loudly I must say.  I was so caught off guard I kept leaning forward as my brain struggled to make sense of the physical nature I was involved in. Meanwhile, my body essentially decided to do a cartwheel, then a somersault, then a backwards somersault, followed by an almost flawless swan pose for a second or two (I just went with it), whereupon I concluded the fall down the stairs completely naked with botched backflip, one that somehow left your face in the area I use to excrete the byproducts of metabolizing food.Struggling to get up, as you screamed, I hit my head on the bottom of a fire extinguisher metallic compartment, and honestly, the alone hurt like a mother.  Bleeding at the crown of my eye, blood poured down to my forehead and face as my one foot caught in the railing as well as your Dolce Gabana Light Blue perfume made it extremely difficult to get off you.  Not sure how, but somehow, someway, my morning wood was still prevalent and I know this is the wrong time to make note of it, but right then and there I chalked it up to a recent increase I’m Fiber.

Who knows?

It doesn’t matter how this all ended.  And any way, the detective seemed more suspicious of the fact I still read that the newspaper more so than my bad luck, but no charges were pressed.  I heard you were taken to Rush Hospitals “Where PPO’s mean more” to be evaluated for some sort of shock or post traumatic stress which was ironic because in a way you were probably stressed out just from me falling on you naked! Right?  Noting this weird occurrence to our building manager, he shook his head and asked if I had read Of Mice And Men.  I said no to which he replied I should be treated like the idiot ae the end of the story.  I am guessing this was the novel that was made into Forrest Gump?  I dunno… Whatever.  Look, I live right upstairs.  Come over after work and let’s listen to some CCR and see where the Franzia takes us.

Your Neighbor,


VII. Spiritually Delicious Coffee Makers
Haunted 1960s coffee grinder
Relic burr coffee grinder from the 1960’s. Available for immediate pickup.FREE! with caveats. . .1. The finest setting is still pretty coarse, but if you use a French press, you’re in hipster coffee heaven.2. It’s haunted.Take a picture using Hipstamatic or Instagram in a low lit room with the grinder to your right, in line with and roughly level with your heart, and a ghostly image of Timothy Leary will appear in the frame. Also, I’ve woken up several nights to find the grinder had moved from my kitchen counter to my nightstand and was watching me sleep. The grinder has been known to go missing for weeks at a time only to reappear back in it’s original location on the counter. Despite the drama, I’ve kept it this long because it makes a fine cup of coffee when it’s around. Unfortunately, it scares my new girlfriend so I’ve been asked to get rid of it.I’d ask $1,500 for it, but California being a particularly litigious state I can’t afford to be deemed liable for destructive paranormal activity or demonic gates that open in your home, thus I offer it anonymously for free.3. Works best with Peet’s coffee.

Sorry, if it has disappeared from the spot on the porch, I can’t help you. I really have no control over it.

VIII. Picking Your Battles With Aggressive Driving
I saw you today driving a black SUV down Bastogne. I couldn’t help but be drawn to your skillfully maneuvered fingers as they plowed up your hairy nostril. The intensity made me think of a little dog humping the leg of some oblivious dementia consumed grandpa. The way you were digging in your nose made me want to call 9 1 1 because I just knew you were causing yourself some sort of brain trauma. But i knew you were ok once i saw you pull your chubby little finger from the crevice in your face and stare longingly at it. You studied your boogers with what seemed like an eternity, and then when you could not resist it anymore, the urge to jam your snot filled finger into your mouth consumed you and you ate your booger. You closed your eyes with ecstasy as you let its slimy grossness consume your soul.  Ok dude, seriously, you’re effin gross, and i pray i never have to come in contact with your booger eatin ass!!! BON A PETIT BOOGER EATER!!!

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