CLP #5: My Soul Hurts, Where's My Sharpie?

Craig's List Project #5
So, after a bunch of threats, some inspiring legal reminders, and some major soul searching, I've decided that it is too heartless of me to put these women's pictures up without their consent. What's the solution, you might ask? Well, for some reason, a single skinny black line covering one's eyes turns slander and internet fraud into good clean family fun. Legally, I'm as innocent as a penny pinching grandma, but I'm sure that in the grand scheme of things, I'll burn for this. That's okay, I like BBQ.

CLP #4: In The Meantime...

Craig's List Project #4
I've been told I'm an a-hole, a jerk and that I'm brutal. I agree, but the experiment must continue to it's bitter and ill-conceived, yet genius conclusion; a real date from a Craigslist posting. I will eventually put up a real ad for my-lonely-self on Craigslist and ask one of the people who responds to it to go out on a real date. I know that I am condemning myself to either of the following situations.

1) No one will respond to the ad and I will feel shattered because a business man with the entertainment value of a pile of rocks and a basement-dwelling, video game designer are, in fact, cooler than I am or ever will be.

2) I will go on a date, end up being bored in the first 10 minutes and tell her about the experiment. As a result, I will get a pitcher of ice water poured on my head, slapped in the face, stuck with the bill and never hear from her again. I will then live the rest of my life as I had lived it up to that point, but living with the shame in knowing that I had been rightfully slapped in the face for being a douche-pump.

3) I will be found out. Not necessarily about this project, just found out in general. I have many secretes and any one of them could destroy me.

4) I will lose interest in the project, spend days repenting for all of the lying-to-women I've been doing and... wanna ride bikes?

5)Meet the woman of my dreams, fall madly in love and live happily ever after.


I'm TOTALLY counting on #5. But in the meantime, here is my most favorite song of all time, ever. It's been stuck in my head since the wedding a month ago and was the theme music for the bachelor party. Enjoy!

CLP #3: Mr Boring Is Quite A Catch

Craig's List Project #3
Does no one get it? I’m concerned about the results from my experiment. Mr. Boring seems to be a highly desirable guy, which is odd to me because I tried to make him as bland as possible. Here are some of the points I made sure to include when creating him. These points were supposed to make him seem like as much fun as playing with belly button lint while trapped in a 3 hour line at the DMV.
1) The phrase “I work hard and play hard” has always pissed me off and been immediately indicative of an idiot. Now, adding that playing “hard” includes golf, the only sport where you are supplied a little car to get from one end of a lawn to another, shows just how “hard” someone is willing to play, or work.
2) I mention being “athletic” or “fit” EIGHT TIMES in one paragraph.
3) I ask for an “attractive” or “athletic” woman FIVE TIMES in the same paragraph.
4) My favorite movies are all Oscar winners for best picture.
5) My favorite TV show are all Emmy winners
6) I like “fun things” and my idea of “fun places” are Jersey and Vegas.
7) “Smart is good, also” is the last sentence in what I’m looking for. Obviously after all five of the “attractive” requests.
8) I’m “tired of the club scene,” but want to “get decked out and hit the clubs.”
9) I call women “Hot Stuff.”
10) After a list of 34 adjectives about myself, I causally mention that I “don’t like talking about myself.”

I posted Mr. Boring at 4pm on Thursday, but by 9pm on Thursday there were already over 150 Men Seeking Women post ahead of mine. These guys buried my posting under a pile of “tried of the club scene” and “I’m looking for a special lady.” I thought no one would ever find my mystery man, let alone have the patience to read through this monotony that was my personality, let alone find it attractive to be called “hot stuff.”
But I was wrong. Here are some of the responces.

"Hey my name is Vicki I am 25 single no kids not married blah blah...
I live in the city I have a normal job not looking for a one night stand and any of that non-sense... Umm here are a few pics if you like you now where to respond."
Vicki



This was honestly what I was expecting. Someone who a) doesn’t use any punctuation when trying to impress a guy. b) Saves time by writing only two blahs rather than the standard “blah blah blah.” c) Actually types “Umm” in an e-mail and even takes the time to capitalize it. And, d) misspells “know.” I attached the picture she sent because I've always wanted to know what people who don’t use commas look like. I figured you did, too. Now you now.

"Hi, I Am 21. Film Major And Waiter. From Ohio. If Interested Reply.".
I honestly knew more about this girl when I didn’t know anything about her. I don’t think I want to know more about her, even though she uses commas and periods.

Here’s where things started to bum me out. There are people that really want to meet a person as boring as the one I made up. These women really put themselves out there, but like the heartless bastard that I am, I have to squash their dreams of meeting Mr. Perfectly Bland.

"i saw your ad on craigslist and was ABSOLUTELY intrigued. sounds crazy to say, but you sound exactly like me. we really have a ton in common.

i am 25, 5'10", love being active. i have a great job in sales and love my convertible. i am very goal oriented. love getting dressed up, wine, vegas, travel, etc. anyway i can tell you more when we go out for a drink ;)
check out my pic and send yours, look forward to hearing from you!"

Rachael


Awwww, isn’t the precious.com? Don’t you feel e-butterflies in your e-stomach? And there was this nice lady, also.

"Hello,
So I just read your post on craigslist and you seem to be a decent guy. So I will tell you a little about me. First off I just moved to Chicago from Iowa about a month ago, and I throughly love it thus far. I'm very much into physical fitness and sports I like to stay in shape, my weakness is running. I've been running on lakeshore everyday since I got here rain or shine:) The rain being just as fun. Theres obviously so much in the city I have yet to see, but I've met a lot of pretty cool people and I love to go out to dinner and for drinks. I'm an all around girl I love everything from a good book and glass of wine to beer, pizza and football with the guys. I'm attaching a picture and hopefully I will get one in return."
Lindsay


She seems sweet. Both of them do. Too bad I don’t give a fuck. Too bad I’m going to post both of their honest and endearing attempts at meeting a new guy in the city up on my blog for countless people to laugh at. Well, maybe not countless, more like 7. Too bad I’m a heartless monster and will include their pictures on this post in case either of them have friends or coworkers or (better yet) x or future lovers that read this thing and then these ladies will have to move to a new city due to the humiliation of being suckered by a fake yet believable craigslist ad for a boring guy set up by a nutcase with no pants on at noon and with nothing but free time and house plants on his hands. It’s too bad, cause they seem so sweet.

These women seem so average in text form. No jokes, no edge, no attention grabbing qwarkyness or wackiness. Just the facts.

"Just thought that I would say hello. Read your post and you seem like a great down to earth guy. Didn't know if you were looking for someone downtown or not.

I am 29, 5'2 and 105 pounds. I do live in the suburbs. If interested I would like to hear from you"



Boring!

All the responses have come to me by now. I’ve gotten all the “forced-smile” pictures from strangers that I could get by putting a suit on a hook and throwing it into the proverbial sea. By the way, this is the actual image that I used in the craigslist ad. Judgments have been slung around like pudding cups in a high school cafeteria food fight and I’ve got chocolate mud on my face. They judge my ad to see if I’m “the one”, or close enough to “the one” that they wont puke. Meanwhile, I judge them due to the fact that they responded to a fake craigslist ad that I couldn’t make more uninteresting without mentioning how much I dislike “bad stuff”. I’m sure that I’m the villain in this, and would be guilty of whatever lawsuits were filed against me for leading these women on, but come on. You’re reading this, and you are getting at least a hint of a smile from these fine, if not bland, women’s pain. You are a heartless monster also. So we are even.

There was one shining light that I should share. Even though this last person fell for a trap, they were a lot more conscious of what they were reading vs. what they were looking for.

"You are a professional, what type of business? You mention you don't like clubs but then you said we should get decked out and hit the clubs - what's the deal?"

Someone’s thinking. Well, there is only one logical thing to do next, and it isn’t to put on pants. I’m going to post another ad on craigslist, but rather than use a suit on a hook as bait, I’m going to use this.

CLP #2: Mr. Boring is up and personalizing

Craig's List Project #2
Mr. Boring has a personal ad. This is it.

Hello ladies.
I am an athletic professional 29 year old looking to meet the right girl. I, too, am tired of the club scene and I want to try something new. I work out weekly. I’m friendly. I work hard (I wear a suit to work everyday) and play hard (golf and running). I like fine wines, the Cubs, running and biking on the lake, Itallian food and I love the central air conditioning in my condo because I like to keep my place cold. I’m tall (6’4”) and am fit and attractive. I am an interesting person, but not a freak show or chauvinist I take vitamins everyday and eat healthy foods. I love my family and I’m a nice guy. My favorite TV shows are: Family Guy, 24, Lost, Heros and the Daily Show. My favorite movies are: The Departed, Crash, Million Dollar Baby, Saving Private Ryan and American Beauty. I like meeting new people and doing fun things. I’m a down to Earth kind of guy and at the same time, I’m a successful and shred businessman. I make sure to have “downtime” for trips to Vegas and New Jersey and other fun places. I like doing athletic activities and have been told that I have a great body. I’m outgoing and polite, strong and sensitive. I don’t like talking about myself very much. I’d rather talk about you. I’d like to meet an attractive, slim, athletic woman, between the ages of 24 and 28. You should be fun loving and outgoing, ready to end the work week with a night out on the town. Let’s get decked out and hit the clubs. I’m really looking for a attractive woman to run and bike with, eat good food and drink fine wine, and someone to lounge in the wonders of my AC chilled condo. You should also be cute and drive a fast car. Smart is good, also. Get in touch with me, hot stuff.



We'll see what kinda response he gets from the ladies, the ladies.

CLP #1:Craig's List Play-Doh Shop of Horrors

Craig's List Project #1
So here’s my next idea. I was recently on Craig’s List and found a section for personal ads. Men Seeking Women, Women Seeking Shallowness, Idiots Seeking Attention, Sledge Hammers Seeking Brick Walls, that kinda thing. I have found many things on Craig’s list in the past, from roommates and bandmates, to free sofas and cool wine bars, but I was amazed to realize that people can actually post want ads for companionship. It’s like doing a google search for the meaning of life (I must point out that I did this google search and found this link for The Meaning of Life – A Rational Philospohy which ended in a little chuckle, quite a chuckle indeed*) and believing that the results are the ultimate truth (which in this case, they just might be**).

There are so many varieties of hopelessness in these Craig’s list personal want ads. I looked mostly at what women were looking for in a man. My immediate reaction was “They are all searching for perfection in a relationship on a free website which I’ve used to get stinky free furniture and messy roommates.” My next reaction was, “why don’t any of these ladies post their picture when they are trying to attract the perfect man… online?” It crossed my mind that they might be recognized by co-workers or friends, but I wouldn’t be slowed down in my search for perfection if someone in the next cubical knew that I was actually looking for perfection. Then I thought that all these posters might be physically hideous, which could be true since conventional wisdom dictates that ‘all the good ones are taken’ and if that statement relates to the no-cost internet dating scene at all then it means that all the six foot, built-like-an-Amazon, sexpots were taken by the first coke-bottle-glasses wearing web searchers who used a plus sign in their online life partner searches (ex: “boobs + low standards + hot”). Or maybe these women were afraid that posting pictures of themselves would result in them being objectified as hot pieces of ass, or that their online suitors would begin to care less about who they were and what they listed as their interests and favorite TV shows and would care more about the face that was attached to those interests and glued to those TV shows.

And then, as if on cue, I had an epiphany. It occurred to me that not posting a picture lead to a bit of a chase. “Your picture gets mine” is a common ending for these want/need/fulfill ads and if your picture isn’t good enough then you aren’t gonna get one back. These women want the upper hand when it comes to harvesting the dregs of free on-line dating. Then it occurred to me that these women aren’t doing on-line searches for Mr. Perfection, they are looking for some Joe-Schmoe-average guy. They are putting out their bare minimal requirements for their own happiness within a relationship and hoping at least some of the points they put out there are characteristics that the afore mentioned Schmoe either displays prominently in their life, or partially, or can fake convincingly well in an anonymous response e-mail. It’s like building a house of cards with someone with Parkinson’s disease, you’ll be happy if you can get even the slightest resemblance of a foundation for a relationship.

So I decided to prey upon these women-seeking-men. I would create three different ‘men-seeking-women’. The first would be a direct response to what the majority of the ads asked for; a professional, athletic male, interested in walks, wine, and wealth, but as boring as an wet sac of dead rats. Then a man base upon my own interests and quarks; relatively lazy and interested in beverage temperature regulation and zombie impersonation. And, finally, a man that would represent contention for the lowest rung of the dating society; a basement dwelling video game addict that uses acronyms in their spoken language (ex: ST TNG, MMORPG, and the dreaded LOL and TTYL (that shit drives me bananas)).

Be warned. The characters are being made. You might ask, “What’s the point, dipshit?” Well, honestly, there is no point. I just want to see which of these characters will get the most responses, and what the content of the responses will be. As I develop these on-line dating personas, Mr Generic, My Inner Grown-Up Child and The Awful One, I will post their profiles and whatever responses each of them get. So stay tuned ‘cause it’s about to get interesting, if not time consuming.

* it's not a bad link, it said "not found" when I tried also
** Chose your own foot note. If you chose this foot note, turn to page 26, where you will die a horrible death. To chose a foot note that actually pertains to the context of this post, turn to page 93, where you will die a horrible death.

Ian's Bachelor Party

Ian and Catherine. Aug 11th 2007.

I’ve known Ian since the first day he beat me up. He and I played Lacrosse against each other in high school. That’s probably when he beat me up, I didn’t know it at the time though. We really met at Skimdore College, once all the bruises had healed and internal hemorrhaging had stopped. Eventually, I ending up living on his back porch in Boston, then down the street from him in Cambridge, then nowhere near him while he was in Raleigh, and then in the room down the hall in Chicago. Then he met Catherine, broke our lease, moved out with me and in with Catherine, and I haven’t seen that same Ian since.

Now, wait a second. I know what you are thinking. “Oh God! This is another one of those, ‘my buddy met a girl and now I never talk to him because she is sucking his free-spirited soul away with a straw made of sledge hammer while tap dancing on his credit rating and holding his balls hostage in a mason jar of formaldehyde.’” No. That is not what I am saying. I know that Catherine is the best thing to ever happen to Ian. She is amazing. She rescued the Man from the Mess and made him a better man. But yes, I do miss the Ian I knew in college and the years beyond; the one that would stay up until 6am drinking lighter-fluid and eating dog food, the one with a scraggly and tangled mess of a beard, with little chunks of breakfast caught in the mustache, the one that would tell endless stories about barfing and farting, the one who could lose any object of any size in his room because the mounds of dirty laundry all over his floor were so deep that they were actually inches above his bed, the one that would sleep til noon and not put on pants til 5pm, the one who received the nickname “SwampThing” due to his odor and cleanliness habbits. I miss that Ian, but that Ian had to die. And had to die brutal gory death. That being said, what death is more brutal and gory than getting your head bashed in with battle hammer of true love and devotion. Catherine wields such a deadly weapon, hell-bent on the gruesome destruction of the dreaded and stinky SwampThing.


Yeah, I miss SwampThing, but now Ian has a job, and uses a razor and wakes up with the sun, which I just can’t seem to ever want to do, and now he has a beautiful and wonderful wife and a bright future full of love and companionship. Way to go, asshole. Look at the examples you’ve set for all your slack ass buddies. You’ve got a house, a dog, a wife, a deck, a back yard, a fucking garage to park your fucking car in so that you don’t get $50 fucking Chicago fucking parking fucking tickets (FUCK!), and you’ve got an all around pleasant odor and demeanor. Fuck off, dude. What’s this douche-baggery? We are not as good at life as you are, fucktard. Slow the fuck down and wait for me to at least get a reason to wake up in the morning, while I still can claim a grasp on youth. You and your fucking happiness.

This is how things went down in the final days of Ian's life as "Swampthing".

We went to Saratoga for the bachelor party, we being Ian (the blushing groom), Brad (a college buddy and fellow trouble maker), Chris (Ian’s brother), Christopher (Catherine’s cousin), Noodle (a 6’6”, 120lb heir to the water noodle fortune), James (a co-leaser with Ian in an abandon building that became known as the Fort) and I (I refuse to submit any details about myself that will be self incriminating). There we partied like idiots, but not before taking an afternoon bachelor party field trip to the local Gelato shop. Do we know how to party or what. After that delicious treat retreat, we swaggered our bachelor-partying-having-selves over to the non-stop madhouse party that is Borders books. I managed to take these quick pictures before things got totally nuts in the periodicals section.

After that exhausting jaunt through an expensive ice cream shop and the whirlwind extravaganza that was the bookstore, some of the boys needed a nap. Holy crap, are we old or what. After emptying out our colostomy bags, pressing our pleated pants, cleaning our dentures and polishing our best penny loafers for a night out on the town, the boys all met up on the porch, where lounge chairs were lounged in, good times were shared, jokes were made at Ian's expense, cigars were smoked...



and Brad was slapped in the face


Then we were off to DA’s for drinks. There, we shot darts, shot pool, shot shots, drank drinks and got all around obliteratedly belligerent. And like all good bachelor parties, things started to get a little homoerotic.









And then Brad got slapped in the face again.

In fact, everyone got slapped.



Christopher seemed to enjoy a bit too much. Look how bright and soft his eyes are. We might have discovered and unleashed the masochist in him.

Rock, the bartender, decided that I needed to be part of my very own wet tee-shirt competition, which I won.


(How bout that sweet mustache, eh?)
I later threw Brad and Noodle over a fence so that they could come in the ‘backdoor’ of the hotel. There was no backdoor to the hotel. Noodle smashed a $150 table with his face, Christopher and I had breakfast at 4am, Brad sucker-punched me in the nose first thing in the morning and I won $15 at the horse track. The hotel has black listed us, as have many of the restaurants, bars and women in Saratoga. What better way to usher out Swampthing and usher in Mr. Merritt than to destroy his reputation, his liver and an expensive hotel room.

And what better woman than Catherine to be his bride. They are amazing together... but I don't think she would have liked us had she met us on Caroline St in Saratoga. What a great fucking party.


Oh yeah, everyone seems to asks if there were strippers or hookers at this bachelor party. Now, we couldn’t let our boy, Ian, join the ranks of the married without getting him his own stripper. At the time, I was told no photography but I managed to shoot one picture during the show. Enjoy.

Bull Balls and Onion Rings

I ate bull balls at a Rodeo. I was no where near as excited as this little lady was, but I couldn't say no to um.


In order for people to eat bull balls, they are pounded flat, fried, and served with shrimp cocktail sauce. Once that is done, they are called Rocky Mountain Oysters. I ate them. They look like this...

I ate them at a Rodeo in Colorado called the Greeley Stampede. I saw kids ride sheep.
I saw belt buckles and bought one with an angry rattlesnake on it. And I ate balls damnit.
So the next time someone tells me to "eat balls" I can tell them I already did, with cocktail sauce.
I also ate Crocodile, but I don't think anyone cares about that. Bull balls, now that's something to tell my grandkids about.

Descent and Water Slides

I had a dream last night that I was protesting the war in Iraq at City Center in Montpelier when the US Army of the future showed up. The US government had become a dictatorship under W and Dick and they decided to send gun ships to attack the 20-30 protesters in downtown Montpelier. The attacked the peaceful crowd with the Millennium Falcon, which really bummed me out because I like the Millennium Falcon. Then they sent in hundreds of paratroopers and handcuffed us all. Someone got shot. We were taken to a water park when the troops were training on waterslides and having an all around good time practicing for war in a water park. Then we had a picnic in a coal mine and played group games with a parachute just like I did in preschool gym class. I think everyone was drinking wine by the end. I should protest the war in Iraq more often.

whoops

I think this is fucking funny.

Let the Media Sit and Spin

Breaking News: Something Happening In Haiti

things to do when you are single

Tonight I'm going out with some friends. One of which is the guitar player in the tin pan ally band, Sons of Susan which I've been playing with for a few months. His name is Nathan. His girlfriend is going to come out tonight also. We are all going to see a band called Sex Fist. They are a bluegrass band, and strictly bluegrass. I'll also be meeting the lead man from a rock band I used to be in, Moxie Motive. I'm going to ask him if I can become his booking agent. So tonight is a double date between Nathan and Katie, and me and a x-bandmate. Last time I talked to this x-bandmate, things didn't go so well and I quit the band and haven't talked to him since. I'm nervous like I'm actually going on a date with him. Fucking musicians. Nothing is ever simple. Should be a fun night. You should check out sexfist.

Tonights quote

"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you were in my way."
-Alan Carlson

A blog is a sledghammer, if it's any kinda hammer. Maybe it's a jackhammer. Maybe both. Maybe not.

I wrote something depressing the other day. Just a few sentences that crossed my mind, then my fingertips, and froze me for a good 20 minutes as I just read and reread and rereread what I had written.
“You know when you are looking through some old boxes and you find a old photo of yourself smiling innocently at time when you had really tapped into something good, and you can see in that 10-years-ago smile that there wasn't anything coming down the pike at you to be afraid of for at least 10 years or so and now that you're there, you notice that you don't smile like that anymore.”
Not a suicide note or anything, but clearly depressing. It’s the truth in that photo’s ‘then-and-now’ contrast that has thrown doubt into the validity of the standard guidance councilor question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” What the hell did I want to do with my life while I was smiling away like that? Smiling like I didn’t know a damn thing. I wasn’t thinking about taxes, about a job, about the rent or the bills. I was in the here and now right then and there. Think about it. A good day for me used to be getting as many laughs as I could. Now, to get a good laugh, I tell stories about the days when I used to have days that made me laugh. What I’m trying to say is, life isn’t as funny as it used to be.

The blorst of times

Today, I didn't do much. I put away my electric blanket. I paid some bills online. I played a game that involves a monkey kicking a coconut. Check out my high score. Life is hard.
5092 Monkey Meters

Fuck it, mofo. Fuck it.

Fuck it. I like swearing in pubic so I'm gonna do it publicly, on a blog. Publogicly.
Fuckin' fuck shit ass twat cock motherfucker felching douche fist bitch cunt dick fuck monkey fucking asshole licker cock sucker donkey puncher.
Freedom of speech is being taken advantage of by a drunk right now, but remains unscathed. Unity creates ignorance, ignorance is untidy, thus unity needs a diaper and the diaper should stay on for a week, at least! Fuck you, asshole!