The Best of Craigslist Thread

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^I did a For Sale thread on another forum using the cinder block ad as a model, got so many hits, but got me banned. Was a legit sale too :(
 
An Apology: To the Girl in the Parking Garage

Date: 2004-12-13, 11:29AM CST

It was late. We happened to be walking on the same path. I knew you were nervous--I would be too if I was a petite female, walking alone on a desolate and dark city street at 1:00 a.m.

You were about fifty feet in front of me. I was going to turn right. You turned right. Soon, I was going to turn left. You turned left. I tried walking slower to let you get ahead of me. Unfortunately, you decided to walk slower at the exact moment I did. I then decided to start walking very fast, so that I could pass you by, let you be in control of the situation by being behind me. You started walking fast at the exact moment I did.

I considered taking another turn or stopping for a smoke. Anything to let you get way ahead of me, to get me off of your path so that you could relax because I know you thought you were being followed by a strange man. It was cold as fuck outside though, so I continued walking toward my destination, a parking garage. I somehow knew this was your destination as well.

You walked into the sanctuary of the garage, and I paused to have a smoke. With the luck I was having, you were probably parked right next to me and the coincidence would press the situation enough for me to get maced, I thought.

The freezing wind helped me smoke my cigarette down to the filter in record time, but I thought my nicotine break gave you enough time to get to your car without some strange guy on your heels. I got in the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor, where I was parked.

The elevator stopped on floor 3. The doors opened. And there you were. You forgot where you parked. I wouldn't have been offended if you didn't get on the elevator, but you did. You shrank away from me, and I could your fear along with the strong fragrance of whatever alcohol you had been drinking all evening. You didn't push a button on the elvator. Of course, you were getting off on my floor. Shit.

I wanted to get off the elevator first to show you that I wasn't stalking you, to let you walk behind me for a change. Unfortunately, when the elevator doors parted you were off like a horse at the gate. You walked fast, I walked slowly. We were both headed in the same direction, again. It was at this point that I started to become a bit angry, not so much at you, but at the truths of society that helped to create this uncomfortable situation. So I walked slowly, and felt like the killer in a B horror movie who always catches up with the victim no matter how slowly he walks or how quickly the female victim runs.

To make things worse, a penny was stuck in the grooves of the sole of my shoe. You walked quickly, and behind you you heard the "clink-clomp" of my shoe and penny laden shoe hitting the hard concrete. You panicked at this point, I think. Thankfully, you I saw you turn left up the ramp, and I went right, toward my car.

The parking deck was empty of cars, save mine and one parked right next to it. I absolutely knew the car next to mine was yours. You were now wandering around the sixth floor I think, either avoiding me and waiting for me to leave or truly drunk and lost. I got in my car, started it up and let it warm up a bit. I wanted to help you. . .and then I saw you in my rearview mirror. Miss, whomever you are, please don't ever accept a ninja or spy job, because you are horrible at trying to conceal yourself from view. Maybe it was the bright pink scarf dangling over the edge of the ramp or the fact that you were perched right underneath a bright halogen lamp, but I could not only see you trying to hide, watching me in my car, but you stuck out like a turd in a punch bowl.

I sighed, put my car into gear, and backed out of my space. I backed out a bit too far, cut the wheel and found my headlights right on you, completely illuminating and exposing your already horrible hiding place. Your eyes looked haunted, like that famous National Geographic cover featuring the woman with the 'haunted eyes.'

The apology: I'm truly, truly sorry that at that point I flashed my brights and honked my horn at you like I was firing a machine gun. You jumped and, I think, screamed, but at this point the whole situation had gone too far for me. I also think you needed to sober up a bit more before you got behind the wheel of your car.

As I pulled away, I smiled and waved at you. You gave me the finger. I probably deserved your wrath at this point, but please: In the future, get someone to walk you back or take a cab. You stink at being stealthy. I hope your hangover wasn't too bad.

--Your Unintentional Stalker

my personal favorite
 
Tired of those boring "dinner and a movie types"?Date: 2009-11-19, 4:08PM CST

I'm looking for someone who will allow me to "act out" in public and can react appropriately. I'm tired of dating boring, tepid, insipid politically correct women. I want a liberal woman in the most true sense; not your messenger bag carrying, bike riding, garden variety gender-defender. Can you call someone a cunt in a public place without changing your tone and use the word to refer to your vagina in the same sentence? Do you agree with the opinion that women are terrible drivers, bad actors, and even worse musicians? Would you enjoy getting fucked by a man in a diaper? If so,

On our first date, you will walk me on one of those child-leashes while I wear a helmet and do my best to stumble into every bypasser at the mall. I will at some point throw myself to the ground and slam my head repeatedly into the hard surface while screaming "NO TOUCH ME DERE, SISTER!" over and over. You will smile nervously at the mall patrons and assure them that "It will be over soon; he tires easily."

After that, we will go and get ice cream. When asked which flavor I want, I will demand the ice cream attendant give me "all the ice creams". You will discipline me and tell me I can have only one flavor. At this time I will throw another violent tantrum until you bargain with me and I get two, three, or maybe four (this is up to you, since you'll be paying and rewarding me based on my performance).

When we have our ice cream, I will eat it sloppily and smear it into your hair while giggling (ice cream is every retards favorite thing, you know). You will get up to grab napkins and I will quickly take the remainder of your ice cream and throw it across the food court or while you clean me up, I will shove it down your blouse.

We will go to the video game store where you will "turn me loose" and pretend to talk on your phone absent mindedly outside of the store. I will harass the employees and ask them "OH! Can I have disth game?!" around a hundred times, once for each different game I see behind the counter. "Dat one" I will say as they try in vain to determine which product I am pointing out while staring at the ceiling or floor.

Ten minutes or so should be enough time for me. You will then come collect me, awkwardly apologize, and we will leave the store for the womens restroom where you will proceed to change my diaper in front of the changing station. I will get hard and you tell me "Bad boy, bad boy" while slapping my penis. If anyone says anything, you will tell them you "have to slap it because it's the only way to make it go away" or "this is the only way I can teach him a lesson."

When we leave the mall, we can go back to my place and continue roleplaying. You can teach me where babies come from and then we will practice making them in front of my video camera; the recording of which you will not get a copy. Condoms make my penis burn, so please be STD free.

Criteria:

1. Stay in character at all times. I will not leave character at any point and if you do, I will react aggressively. I'm a pretty big guy. Don't piss me off.
2. You must wear a very sexy outfit. A short skirt and a low-cut top. I want to see your ass cheeks and titties hanging out. Tease your hair and wear some perfume. Also, do not wear underwear. A video game character costume is a plus.
3. If I happen to improvise a passing out spell during a tantrum, when you're leaning over me pretending to revive me or whatever, I will be aiming to pop a boner. Once you feel it prodding, you will do your best to hide it nonchalantly while pretending not to notice. This is very important and I will expect your best performance to come of this because I will suddenly spring up, grab you, and begin to hump you. You will react as if this was a normal thing and tell onlookers "Just give him a minute, he finishes fast."

You are free to improvise your own dialog, but if it's stupid or it becomes obvious that you are pretending, I will loudcap you with retard yelps to distract from your ineptness. If all goes well, maybe we could meet up for a 2nd date. Maybe more.

Jofa_Helmet.jpg


  • Location: New Orleans
  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1473675020

 
You in the SNOW CARDate: 2009-10-29, 9:41AM MDT

Yeah, YOU.

Lazy, ignorant, non-snow-removing phucktard speeding through rush hour traffic on glare ice with 10% visibility.

What is your major malfunction, dipshit?

I see that you are driving a $40,000 luxury SUV, but you cannot afford a $5 snow brush?

It makes me HOMICIDALLY ENRAGED when I see a fucking SNOWBANK with a small patch of hazed over windscreen clear, weaving in and out of heavy traffic, leaving a blizzard of powder in its wake. Sometimes, if they tromp on the gas, half the snow on the roof falls onto the car behind them. Ice encrusted wipers pump furiously to clear away the snow blowing back from their uncleared hood, and if they step on the brakes an avalanche will block their vision entirely.

Fuck you, snow car . . . I want to kill you.

I saw dozens of snow forts zooming around Downtown this morning. Because it is too much work to warm up your car for a few minutes while clearing the snow with a brush. And they are going to be late to punch in . . . again.

Okay, phucktard, here is what you do. Stop popping those Prozacs, turn off your cellphone, and have a cuppa coffee. Then, go outside, clear the driver side door, open it, start your vehicle, turn the defrost on, relock your vehicle (with the spare key none of you yuppie fucks seem to have) and go back inside. Relax for a few minutes while the car warms up. Then, grab your broom and go out there and push the fucking 8" of snow off the roof of your car! After that, you can clear the rest, using a snowbrush and scraper to get the areas the broom can't do. There you go, nice squared away, warm vehicle with full visibility that will not be such a menace to every other motorist.

Sometimes I try to visualize what you are doing inside the snow car. I see you listening to shitty music at full volume while balancing a bowl of breakfast cereal on your lap and texting a friend about where you'd like to get drunk after work. I despise you, snow car. And you should be thankful that anti-tank rockets are so hard to come by.

  • Location: rebuilding my flamethrower
  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1442777790

 
http://philadelphia.craigslist.org/mis/1701584027.html

"You stuck my flash drive in your vagina"

You stuck my flash drive in your vagina - m4w - 25 (philadelphia)

Date: 2010-04-20, 3:04PM EDT

Reply To This Post

You stuck my flash drive in your vagina. If you are reading this, you know who you are. I don’t think this is a fad sweeping the city, so this one’s for you.

We met at a Millcreek Tavern. You said you were from Lancaster. You were beautiful, you liked me. It was perfect. But then…

We went back to my apartment. We watched The Breakfast Club. You had never seen it before. We then ended up in my bed, as planned. And had sex, as planned.

You looked beautiful half covered in my sheets when I left to use the bathroom. When I came back, this is what I saw:

You standing naked at my computer. You with your hand on the keyboard, not typing. You grabbing the flash drive.

The flash drive pops out.

You look at it.

You squat a little bit.

You insert it into your vagina, like a tampon.

I am speechless.

You proceed to get dressed, say you have to go home, and leave. The number you gave me doesn’t work.

I am confused. I’d like to see you again. I’d like to see my flash drive again.

Your name is Rebecca. You have long blond hair.

Please get in touch. I am a very understanding person.
 
this is a response i got today from someone on craigslist about the boombox im sellingFUCKING SCAMMER.... i think
Hi

l really appreciate your response to my email. I want you to consider
it sold, pls do withdraw the advert from CL to avoid disturbance,anyways
I don't have time to come over to take a look because of my
Business but you don't need to bother yourself with the shipment, I'll
take care of that by engaging the services of a mover, hence I'll be
sending a check and it will be delivered to you via United Parcel
Service (UPS), so I'll need you to provide me with the following
information to facilitate the mailing of the check....

Full name on the check.
Full Physical address to post the check
City, State and Zip Code
Home & Cell Phone to contact you.

Note that the payment will be shipped to your address via UPS NEXT DAY
AIR SERVICE and I will like you to know that you will not be
responsible for shipping i will have my mover to come over as soon as
you have cashed the check*( n.b ups does not deliver to a P.O BOX
addresses thanks )
 


I am a graphic artist and in need of a job. I have decided to fill this need the same way many people think the can fill their graphic design needs; with a contest!

Here is how it will work;

Send me one weeks worth of salary and benefits. I will keep all of the checks that are sent to me and use all of the benefits.

Whoever sends me the best salary and benefits package will win the contest and get the prize of two days of graphic design work!!!

Good Luck! I am really looking forward to recieving your payment packages!

  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
  • Compensation: 2 days of Graphic Design work

 
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