My Craigslist Commentary 11

June 9th 2014

They’re back.

Due to popular demand, my batshit Craiglist commentary posts are back and stranger than ever. Feel free to pre-game this nonsense with my past archives of

Women seeking sexy feet

The world’s most rogue roommate

A requested drunk clown for a 30th birthday party

An amputee for a Halloween costume

A required dragon slayer

To the chubby white girl at the Levittown Wal Greens

Casual guy seeking tits

Drunk girl on my lawn

To the woman I accidentally punched

2 dozen free goats

And post game it with this shit right here:

(Reminder: Blue = me. Not blue = not me) 

That burrito, jesus. But from where?  (Just so we’re clear, we’re not looking for the actual Jesus…just the burrito version. Carry on…)

I woke up with the remains of a burrito next to the sink. (Archive this for future bio updates on your tinder profile) It was everything. It had french fries in it, and avocado, and sour cream, and probably sprinkles of unicorn dreams. (so worth the extra $.50) It was at once crunchy and smooth, and hot and cold, and salty and gooey and chewy. I remember ordering “The Californian” from a menu with 800 other unnecessary alternatives. I watched as it emerged into this world one spoonful of love at a time and then beautifully origamied by a soulful Mexican man who will be the godfather of my future son. (Only Mulan can trump this “how did you meet” story #pretendedtobeaman #didntwork)
It was, quite simply, the finest burrito I’ve ever had the pleasure of leaving next to my sink at 3:00 in the morning. (preach) BUT FROM WHERE? Sweet Mary and Joseph I cannot remember where it came from. (Said Mary to Joseph when she spontaneously had baby Jesus in her oven) Please help. I was walking down a numbered street but don’t know which one. (This helps) As I walked east, it was on the lefthand (north) side of the street. There was a ton of tables inside, a burrito assembly line (neigh, a wish-granting magic factory) (truth), and lots of Mexicans so you know that shit was tight. (Tight shit= Mexicans no doubt)
I‘ve got no receipt. No signage on the bag. No memory. (This place sounds real) Nothing.
Let’s track down this nursery of culinary magic. (I get off at 5) I need this burrito in my life every day. Did I mention it had french fries IN THE GODDAM BURRITO? Where did it come from? Please help me, and then meet me there. I’m getting the Californian. (Didn’t see that coming.)
jesus burrito

Barn Kittens: Blood Thirsty Sisters Free to a Good Home  (All regular sisters to bad homes)

We have two kittens in need of a new home. Now, when I say kittens, I know you’re expecting two lovable fluff balls that you could bond and cuddle with. (Blame google images) I assure you that this is not the case. (That is bullshit)These sisters are two unstoppable forces of hell fire and lightning. (My sister and I get similar introductions at any and all family weddings.) They were born for the sole purpose of wrecking the day of any candy ass mouse, rat, or republican that is unfortunate enough to cross their path. (So a good work ethic then.)What’s that? (I didn’t say anything) You wanna pet them? (Nope.)
Good luck, Brohemian Rhapsody.

These little rage cannons (lol) will leave you feeling empty as they neglect you to further their search for prey. (Much like going out for “ladies night” but left in the dust by said friend Tori for the first mandal-wearing bro named Chaz) But if you can respect them and leave well enough alone, the sisters will keep your home rodent free and you’ll love them for it.

Name: Mew
Color: Calico
Bio: This cat is all business all the time. Of the two, she is easily the most vicious. She was born when the waves of Poseidon crashed upon the last saber tooth tiger. (So around 3 then…) The result – the living embodiment of fear in the eyes of all mouse kind. (I woke up like this)

Color: Russian Blue (Her natural color, I’m guessing)
Bio: The more stealthy of the duo, Lady Espurr prefers clinging to the shadows, (much like a balding guy named Ted circa 2am at the local bar) patiently awaiting the perfect moment to strike. (Ted…is that…you?) Though not quite as vicious as Mew, she is still a trained killer with a heart of ice and a hunger for murder. (Oh never mind, definitely Patrick)

These kittens are not kid friendly. 
They don’t like people. 
They feel no pain and cannot be reasoned with.

But if you need barn cats to get rid of rats and other such pests, they’re your girls.

Free crappy violin case

This is Ken (Hey Ken) (notice the leather patch embroidered onto his green coat). (Don’t tell me what to do) I’ve had him for yeeeears. He’s done me well (well….), but has not been treated as such. There’s red candle wax splattered on his top (rude) and one of his corners is coming undone. (slut) Still completely functional, however. What a trooper.
I don’t want him anymore. We got into a fight about the origin of watermelons last week and things haven’t cooled down since. (Discrepencies about fruit. Instant deal breaker) He doesn’t believe they originated in Southern Africa – instead, he refers to them as “space balloons.” (As will I from this day forth) But Kenneth, how would they float? (They’re space balloons goddamnit.) You know they’re too heavy. (Dream killer alert) Ignoring my question he knew he didn’t have an answer to, he scooped up the nearest watermelon (I dont have any watermelons at my house. (tragic) He ran all the way to the grocery store! (Ken: an abused violin case bee lining for watermelon. Ken.) and began serenading it with the “She’s so heavy” bit from The Beatles’. I said, “Go home Kenneth, you’re drunk.” (And epic) Then he looked directly at me… and continued singing. (It’s a good song. You’re not mad.) I said “Kenneth! That is no way to talk to a lady! You’re adopted.” (Seems like an appropriate time to drop that bomb) And I walked away. (Even better)
His drunk ass ended up in my yard at 3 am the next morning, he had gone out drinking with his other rejected violin cases of “friends”. Was it worth it, Kenny? “Please help me find my birth mom”, he said. But his words were slurred so it sounded more like Plfjdhahejfjdhanwbirthmom. (The language of love)
So here we are. Did you ever give birth to a lower quality forest green violin case apparently named Ken some 15 years ago or know someone who has? This is where you come in. (I’m baaaaackkk.)
violin case