Ever read the "Best of Craigslist"?

[TimTaylor751647545500]

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/wdc/388723055.html

 

Pregnant doctor lady who looked at my blister - m4w

Date: 2007-08-03, 6:01PM EDT

 

You were doctor who looked at the blister on my foot. You're pregnant with another man's baby. I would raise it as my own. I love you. My girlfriend will not be happy about this but she is out of town.

[craig71188]

Dear Crazy-As-Bat-Shit-Lady:

 

I am honored that you chose my ad for a mini fridge out of all the ads you could have chosen. It makes me feel good that my mini fridge will be supplying you with the ice cold beverages you've obviously become accustomed to.

 

Next time you answer one of my ads, please note the following:

 

1. I am not Home Depot. If you travel thirty minutes to pick up a bulky 40-pound object, please come prepared with the necessary items you'll need to secure it to your vehicle. Yes, I have rope. I have a lot of rope. I have many different colors and sizes of rope. No, you can not have my rope. The ad said I was selling a fridge, not a fridge with rope. Nor was I selling a fridge with padding so that the pleather seats on your piece of crap car don't get marked up.

 

2. What part of 'buyer must pick up' in the ad was confusing to you? Yes, I have a vehicle. No, I don't want to haul your fridge all the way to East BumbleFuck on the hottest day of the year. No, I'm really really sure I don't want to do that. No, really. I'm sure.

 

3. Please call me only once with ALL your questions. I left for the day, and had 5 messages on my answering machine, the last one was at 10:30 pm. Frankly lady, you were sounding a bit too crazy by the end of the day. It's a fridge. A small metal box that keeps shit cold. I don't have the fridge's family tree. For all I know the fridge's was conceived by a slutty young Maytag that graced some hillbilly's side porch. I don't know the exact age of the fridge. I bought it a few months ago, I used it for a couple of days, ok, I lied, I used it a whole week. The fact is, you're not buying a race horse, you're buying a used fridge.

 

4. No, I will not knock $10 bucks off the price of the fridge because your anal retentive eyes picked up the ittiest, bittiest hairline scratch from across my driveway. I'm not making judgements on you, but I'm pretty damn sure Donald Trump didn't send you across the country to pick up a used fridge for Trump Towers. Though I'd wager the whole concept of the mini-fridge bar is a familar one to you.

 

5. Yes, you can unplug a fridge without any harm to the fridge. Believe me, the fridge is fine. The manufacturers have figured out a way to extend the life of a fridge that has been unplugged. Yes, I'm absolutely sure of that. No, you did not have to leave 2 messages about your concerns with the fridge being unplugged, and frankly it was a little embarrassing having the same conversation with you in my driveway where my neighbors could hear.

 

6. No, I don't have the operating instructions. I can write them down for you though: Plug fridge in. Open door. Put crap inside. Take crap out when it's cold. Eat or drink crap.

 

7. I am not a fridge pimp. I don't have any more fridges at that price. No, I don't know where you can get another fridge at that price. Yes, I know it's in great condition for the price, and I'm sure you'd like your other crazy-as-bat-shit-mini-fridge-buying-friends to have one just like it, but this is all I have. Here's a thought, there's this online classified ads website. Yeah, you may have heard of it, it's called CRAIGSLIST. I dunno, maybe, just maybe, in this great land of ours, there's another mini-fridge being advertised there.

 

8. Please remove my phone number from your address book. I think our relationship is over. Oh, and if you've added me to your AIM Buddy List, please delete me. Please. I beg you.

 

 

Yours truly,

 

The mini-fridge seller

[Vulcan900]

Wow, ^^ that made me LOL.

[copperhead]

oh shit, I forgot to see if Caxide's post made it.

[Buckeye1647545503]

Potato Cannon

Date: 2007-08-06, 11:21AM EDT

 

 

It's 8ft long. My neighbors figured out what was happening so I need to get rid of it today.

 

 

Location: Park Slope

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

 

PostingID: 390476890

[Buckeye1647545503]

From your pizza delivery girl

So after about 2 years of being a pizza delivery girl, I’m fed up!

 

1. First off, lets put in a simple fact: Pizza delivery is considered a hazardous job by the US government. They are third most likely to be murdered on the job, right after police officers and taxi drivers. Myself being a 22 year old female, that risk is approximately 5 times greater. Although I’m not in the US, Canada has plenty of latent axe-wielding maniacs, disgruntled computer geeks that haven’t stepped out of their house in months, crazy cat ladies, pig men, and other potentially dangerous creatures. That brings me to my next point…

 

2. If I drive 10 km out of town to your trailer park, and you open the door in a sleeveless plaid shirt, and then ask me to come in, don’t get offended if I don’t. Don’t get offended if I take off running either. You might be a decent guy, but I’ve seen enough cliché axe murderer movies to know better.

 

3. Chances are, though, if you’re the creep in the plaid shirt living in the trailer park, I will probably like you a lot more than that family in the mansion in the most affluent part of town. Because, you, scary redneck friend, are probably going to tip me close to 30% of the order. Whereas foreign mansion family will end up giving me a 20 on a $19.80 order and generously tell me to keep the change. Ever wonder how some people can afford to live in a 6500 sq ft house with a swimming pool? They don’t tip.

 

4. That brings us to tipping. To the lady that asked me if I was in school, and upon my affirmative reply gave me a quarter, and said “I know how hard it is to be in school and work so hard” – Thanks!! You were pretty young too, and of course living in one of those mansions. I thought you’d know better. To the guy who told me I was really cute for a pizza delivery driver and left me no tip – thanks!! My cuteness won’t pay for nursing school. To the Korean broad that waited for me to count out the nickels and dimes and then got mad because I don’t carry pennies and thus couldn’t give exact change( 3 more cants), who then called my boss and told him she was “lipped off” ( think she meant ripped off) – Fuck you!

 

5. If you tell me you can’t afford to tip when I get there, you can’t afford delivery.

 

6. If you can’t afford delivery charges, you can’t afford delivery. To that guy who called the pizza place and asked us to deliver 2 towns over (we’re in Coquitlam, he was in maple ridge) and asked us to take off the delivery charge too because he can’t afford gas for even himself: Fuck you, you selfish prick. Clearly you know the price of gas these days, and you’re probably smart enough to know that the petroleum pixies don’t come and fill my tank every night, so don’t tell me it’s my loss when I refuse to deliver to you.

 

7. Lets put down some blatant honesty: I’m not hot. I can maybe pull off cute on a good day, so I don’t know why I suddenly transform into a goddess when I come to your door with food. Clearly you’ve been watching way too many pornos.

 

8. #7 goes double for rainy days. Apparently runny makeup and flat hair mixed with pizza are major turn for the lazy Dom asses of Coquitlam. No I don’t need a towel. No I will not come in to dry off. I can’t give you my number. What? No, really, I’m not into that.

 

9. Don’t get mad at me if we made a mistake on your pizza. Chances are you knew we were going to make a mistake if you check the pizza at the front door. Also, most of the high school kids I work with don’t have a clue as to what a quadrant is… “I want pineapple in quadrants 1 and 2, and ham in quadrants 1 and 4 and half of quadrant 3 with pepperoni” Gimme a fucking break!! . And who the hell orders pizza in quadrants anyways?

 

10. Don’t get mad at me if your pizza is 45 minutes late. I was trapped on some guy’s front porch while a bear was sniffing around my car that now permanently smells like a pizza. Yes, a bear. And don’t act surprised, we live in the middle of fucking nowhere. And don’t leave me no tip me because I’m “a liar”. If I wanted to swing by a friend’s house on my way to your place, I’d say I was caught in traffic, or something more believable than a fucking bear!

 

11. Speaking of traffic… The neighborhood where I work is predominantly foreign (I wont say what nationality but you can probably guess where bad drivers that happen to be non-tippers come from). So if I’m late because a hummer that has “environmental consultants” written on it (ah, how I love cliché’s) runs a red and almost kills me, pardon fucking me if I have to pull over for a few minutes to collect myself, thus making your pizza 4 minutes later than the promised time.

 

 

Okay, I’m off to work now. Be nice to me!!!

[351mach11647545510]

Take me in the weeds

 

Date: 2007-08-14, 10:19PM PDT

 

 

My dearest Casual Encounter,

 

We met on Craigslist. You were the one with the sensual, alluring title - "Ram your cock inside me and spurt your hot load!". I knew you were the one for me by the way you typed in ALL CAPS and listed enough conditions to make a contact attorney proud. Your policies of "FACE PICT *ONLY*! NO COCK SHOTS!" and "NASTY, OLD PERVERTS NEED NOT APPLY!" really resonated with me. And you chose me. of the 357 responses you received, you chose mine. I like to think it was my charm, wit, and carefully crafted prose. That or the Abercrombie and Fitch model I chose for "my" picture.

 

We both were in relationships, but we needed something more. We needed each other, if only for that one afternoon. So I took off work early. Wasn't feeling well; going home to rest. You just left a note on the counter - "out shopping". Why wouldn't he believe that?

 

I lust you, but I don't trust you. I can't let you know where I live. You don't care, but he could be home any minute. And I certainly wouldn't want to be around for that. Motels are so cliché. (OK, really we're cheap.) Besides, wouldn't it be totally hot to do it outside, totally exposed to the whole world? I'd never done such a thing before. Neither had you.

 

So we met at the park at 4. The sun was just starting to go down. The light though the trees was sublime. You in your easy-access summer dress. The shine of your hair. The look in your eye. I wanted you. I needed you. I simply had to have you.

 

But where? Had to be close. No time to wander around when sex is imminent. Somewhere out of the way. Others can't see. Up that hill. In the trees. Underbrush all around. I pull it aside for you as we make our slow progress trystward. You do the same for me. Then an opening. Nestled into a copse. Surrounded by scrub brush. Perfect.

 

The blanket goes down and 3 seconds later your tongue is in my mouth. So warm. So soft. So wet. I can no longer think. All the blood is in my cock. I reach my hand down your pants. It's like my toiletry kit fresh out of Miami baggage claim - a hot, wet, sticky mess. You moan and I'm inspired to keep going. First one, then two fingers. Thumb on your clit. It's not long be you're there. I keep kissing you the whole time, but really I'm staring at your face. At the look of pure pleasure. Then you go silent. Your body tenses and arches and I can feel the intense contractions inside you.

 

You reach for me and I'm ready, clothes off in 6 seconds. After witnessing your performance, I'm already close. Really close. You stroke me. You lick me, and less than a minute later I black out for the longest 5 seconds of my life.

 

Back into focus, and my gaze lands upon your face. We exchange an awkward look, like we're back in high school and aren't sure what to make of all this. You pull your hand back looking with concern at the mess on it. I pull out a Kleenex and push it at you while I use another to deftly wipe off my stomach.

 

Nothing left to say, so I get up and start putting on my clothes. You pick up the blanket. I make one last effort on the way back to the cars; I gently brush the cruft out of the back of your hair. You turn half-way toward me and give me a tight-lipped smirk.

 

That was yesterday. Today I am itchy. And swollen. I have splotchy rashes on my body But my cock is the worst. It's bright red, raw, and about 50% bigger than normal. Now I know the secret of those spammers who claim to increase your girth - poison oak.

 

I'm sorry, Casual Encounter girl. Sorry if I got poison oak on you like you did to me. Or worse, in you. I'd like to say it was worth it, but I can't. Not now. Maybe in a few days this will be more funny than painful. I hope so. But I do know that next time, we're splitting the cost of the motel.

 

 

 

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
  

PostingID: 397398685

[Mongoose]

Damn this one had me cracking up, the ending is classic.

 

Date: 2007-08-06, 4:28AM EDT

 

 

when you got up in the morning and got dressed, you chose to wear an outfit that partly reveals your boobs. you have a mirror. you knew. i didn't force you to wear it.

 

in fact, when you bought this item, you knew that you were going to wear it, in public, and it would be revealing your tits a little (or a lot). make no mistake, i applaud you for this. but what i'm getting at, is that we both know you were showing off your rack. don't lie, it's not very subtle. and don't pretend it's a fashion thing. it's a hooter thing.

 

so when you buy the top, and wear it, in the summer, in public, and you're going to stand in front of me, guess what.

 

I'm going to look at your boobs.

 

first off, you should be flattered. i looked at them because they are nice. you should be upset if you were showing off your knockers and i didn't look at them. actually, them being nice is why i looked at them repeatedly. the first peek was more of an instinct. guy-instinct. we can't help it. after that, we just want to see as much of it as we can. to us, boobs are like the Godfather parts I and II. we can watch them over and over and never get tired of them.

 

anyway, yea, i looked at your cans. a bunch of times, actually. now, i understand no one likes to be stared at. this is why i did in fact look around the rest of the metro to see if there was anything else interesting to look at. unfortunately there were no other hot babes, no bums, no cute babies, no one was wearing a Slayer reign in blood tour shirt. nothing. so i went back to your melons. sorry. it was a boring ride, and they were right in front of me. but i think you forget that i was nice enough to focus on your funbags, as opposed to alternating between them and trying to make eyecontact. now that would have been ungentlemen-like. i realise no one finds true love over a pair of jugs on the orange line. it's just not realistic. so i kept my head down, stood in a position as to be not overly obvious about my staring, made sure i didn't get a semi (i got real close once, but i handled it), and tried to be as polite about the situation as possible.

 

so anyway, i just thought you should know my point of view on what happened. i am not a pervert. i was just a man on a metro. a man who saw something that pulled his mind out of the daily routine, and i held onto it dearly (not literally, ofcourse, though that would have been pretty sick). but as you can tell from this long posting, i do feel slightly bad about my behaviour. so to make up for it, i have decided, with pain in my heart, to release you from my spank bank.

 

i think it is fair to say we are even now. i think i did see a hint of slight animal lust in your eyes when you gave me that annoyed look and got out of the metro. so if you are reading this, baby, i'd really like to take you on a trip... a motorboating trip.

 

 

Location: mtl

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

 

PostingID: 390332730

[DeathSandwich]

Ask a silly question

Date: 2007-05-03, 2:34PM EDT

 

 

I have 2 dogs & I was buying a large bag of Pal at Big W and standing inline at the check out.

 

A woman behind me asked if I had a dog.

 

On impulse, I told her that no, I was starting The Pal Diet again although I probably shouldn't because I'd ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IV's in both arms.

 

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pants pockets with Pal nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry & that the food is nutritionally complete so I was going to try it again.

 

I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was by now enthralled with my story, particularly a guy who was behind her.

 

Horrified, she asked if I'd ended up in the hospital in that condition because I had been poisoned. I told her no; it was because I'd been sitting in the street licking my balls and a car hit me.

 

I thought one guy was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard as he staggered out the door.

 

Stupid b*tch...why else would I buy dog food??

[spoolin_s14]

/\ that's classic

[Kevin R.]

Chris' wins.