Monday, October 22, 2007

CLP #9: - Semicolons Are For People Who Don't Get Enough Fiber

Craig's List Project #9

Well, that was a surprise. The ladies that responded actually impressed me, they had complete thoughts and complete sentences and twisted senses of humor, just like me. I assumed that anyone reading my most recent post would be tempted to write back to me, they might write two or three sentences before realizing that it would 'be a gross miscalculation of self preservation to allow that many red flags to go unheeded.' That's what buzzes though my head when I think of talking to me. Actually, that only buzzes through my head after I've ordered and eaten multiple shinny, sweaty hotdogs that have been rolling for God-knows-how-long in the local 7-eleven's hotdog roller. Regardless. What I didn’t assume was that these people would be cool. Here are some highlights, now etched in e-stone for all freak shows to see.

“Your post gives me hope. [It] was so horribly refreshing that I couldn’t resist responding...that, and you are tall and lanky which I love.” At this point in my life, I’ve figured out that I could scream to the world that I am a baby-seal-beating, puppy-eating, Scientologist, Republican, clown-suit-at-the-gun-range-wearing scum bag and there would be someone winking back at me, whispering “I think that’s hot, baby.” I’ll never understand it. Onward! “Why am I on CL? For the same reasons you are. It’s easy to look at it as a last ditch effort or a place for all of the a-holes…” Ahem, very easy. “…but maybe not. I will be happy to continue this interaction after I am off of work and at home in my sweats and having my left-over Chinese food.” And just like that, I’m interested. It’s not the standard, “I’m smart and sexy and love to wear a silk teddy while making bacon for my lover’s breakfast at 3pm,” bullshit. That is the standard, right? This is a down to earth, “deal with it” type of response. The exact kind I wasn’t expecting. This lady has prioritized cold, left-over Lo Mein before me, and that’s a good choice. Being lower than Lo Mein means you can only go upwards, so I decided to write her back.

After sending her this picture of me head first in a snow bank, which is a result of Shawn's blizzard-shopping-cart-driving skills, while still reserving the right to “crush her dreams like I would a sandwich made with Wonder Bread,” she respond again. “Who has time to put with mornons? I don't. I will now go and fester in my cube, which is really more like an icebox. My office could double as a meatlocker. You are welcome to squash my dreams like wonderbread. I prefer [you] to tear off the crust [of my dreams] and roll it into a tiny ball of [crushed dream] dough.” Either she has called me a moron and is a butcher, or she thinks I’m a genius and likes playing with her food, or both, all of which turn me on in some strange way which I’m sure has an abbreviation in the Casual Encounters section. Regardless. I don’t think I’ll hear from her again, as I had to work in Rhode Island for the week and received this discouraging message while I was out of town and not responding to the world outside of my national touring wedding band. “Did I become a Wonder Bread Sandwich?” No. You are not an easily crushable, porous, starch based vending machine product that no one really wants but will buy in a heartbeat for $1.75 during lunch hour delirium. You are so much more than that. Onward!

Here is my favorite response.
Lady - "I have no interest in dating you, but i think i love you!"
Obsquatch - "I love that you love not dating me. We are so good not together and just perfect for ourselves. I'll always wonder about what we never thought about sharing with each other."
Lady - "I think that you are going to be the best relationship that I have never had! I think it is better for you to know now, that I drive a REALLY fast car, and I only date men that have lots of money and own a condo with a rooftop deck so i can watch the cub games. Thanks for trying though!"

You will plague my dreams, woman of my plagued dreams. Onward!

”Dear A-hole (as you've not included any sort of name)
I must say, your post def[initely] brought a smile to my face. Although, what a naughty trick to play! I just thought I'd drop a line and say thanks for making my otherwise soul sucking morning a lil more entertaining.

[Expletive Deleted, and by expletive, I mean her name, which is Jessica]
P.S. As a fellow truck driver, I can sympathize with your loss...I can only imagine the heartbreak that would follow the loss of such a great machine.”

I wrote her back, stating that she, as a fellow truck driver, might be the only person who correctly perceives my new car as a ture and dear loss. By some mystery of time and space, Jessica and I started discussing alternative weight loss programs. Including the following:

The Inferno: Dante’s Diet. Like in the 8th circle of hell, dieters/falsifiers are forced to run in a river of shit while being whipped by demons for eternity. This targets the abs and the hamstrings while strengthening the core and gives you a great cardio work out. Loss of soul and eternal damnation are potential side effects.
The Prometheus Weight Loss Program: The Stolen Fire Of The Gods Burns Away Your Blubber Overnight. Eat everything you want, carbs, sugars, fats, everything! Never work out and still lose weight due to a giant eagle ripping out your digestive track every night while you are chained to a rock. Act now, supplies are limited. Call in the next 10 minutes and get a second intestine-eating, giant eagle free!
Drinkin’ Drano: A Time Tested Cult Classic Weight Loss Program Are you not a rocket scientist and still want to lose weight? Well, you don’t need a degree in aerospace engineering to understand the fluid mechanics of this program! Drink Drano, lose weight. A nice spin on the traditional laxative method.
Honestly, I came up with these by myself, Jessica didn't provide much support for my breakthrough weight lost ideas, but she was trying. And that’s what counts here, public humiliation. Onward!

Durring this whole process, my true love did reveal herself to me. Grace plucks my heartstrings completely unlike anyone else has ever plucked me before. She is elegant and feminine, yet stern and probably able to pummel me. We had a fleeting romance, sweet nothings posted on the wings of butterflies and then it was over. My “dirty skanky-ness” drove her from me and in a fit of passion and rage it was declared that, “you [meaning I, Obsquatch] be dumped, bizzo.” Grace, I’ll win your heart yet.

1 comment:

  1. (sniff) well, you sort of seem like you might be contrite-ish, or contrite-esque, or at the very least contrite adjacent.

    Perhaps a game of pool should decide this?