My Craigslist Commentary 3

November 27th 2012

That’s right fools.

It’s time for


Round 1


Round 2


Round 3 Of Craig’s list Commentary.

As usual, if you have any genuine interest with the following candidates, please please let me know. I’d be more than happy to stay the hell away from you.

Seeking Adult Drunk Clown For 30th Birthday Party (A rare request)
“We need an Adult Drunk Clown (naturally) who is good at getting drunk and stupid. (These are the requirements for anyone to hang out with me in general, so I feel you.  No need to do any clown tricks,(But I have so many…) just hang out and drink a shit load. (So just be myself then.) We will be hopping around to different bars and want a clown to tag a long and drink heavily. (So how hard did you judge yourself after you typed out that sentence?)  He doesn’t even need to socialize with anyone, just drink.” (Adult clown lingering in the corner of your festivities without making any social contact whatsoever. Got it. I’ll bring catch phrase)
Woman to sit in my bath tub full of noodles, wearing a bathing suit (Well what a grand coincidence, I’m currently doing this in my own abode)   “I will pay you $1 (This offer is way too generous, I simply can’t accept) to sit in my bathtub full of noodles while you wear a one piece bathing suit (What are your policies on tankinis?) I will not be home, nor will anyone else while you do this. (This sounds like a pretty lonely activity) I will leave the key for you, and you will sit at your leisure. (Yes master) DO NOT bring any sauce. (What? Clearly you haven’t tried Ragu’s newest recipe) I will season the pasta after I return home prior to dinner.” (…wait should I bounce before then? Or…what’s for dinner…am I the seasoning?…idk I’m confused.)
I took your purse and felt a connection (Congrats)
“Tuesday night around 11:30. On 53rd btw 1st and 2nd. You came out of the subway and I followed you. (This is a very specific and familiar play by play.) You looked over your shoulder, saw me and started walking faster. (Well maybe things would be different if you weren’t wearing a ski mask and death gripping a dagger) I ran up, grabbed your arm, took your purse and ran away. (Hope you enjoyed my expensive retainers and 8 sticks of gum asshole) I’ve done many a snatch-and-grabs, but no one has ever stuck in my mind like you. (Was it my sheer panic or spontaneous violence that struck your fancy?) There was a quick moment when our eyes met that I felt something strong. (Potentially my knee in your man jewels) I think you felt it too. (Nope my jewels are good) If I wasn’t so shy (or so committing a crime) (fair) I would have asked your name. I, of course, later got your name from your drivers license. (How…resourceful of you) So Jennifer if you’d like to get together for a drink sometime get back to me.” (Well this blows, my name is Cletus. But whatever, I’m free for drinks.) Oh, and I can give you back your purse. Your credit cards are still there but I spent the cash (sorry). (So drinks on me then) And my room mate took your tampons. (Um..) I don’t know what he does with them but he always takes the tampons. (Really, I can’t wait to meet your friends.) If it works out between us I’ll totally buy you some new ones 😉 (Enough with the romance)
My teeth (…this could be about so many things)
“I left my Dentures in your Silverado last night. (This is funny in and out of context) I gave you my number but did not get yours. (That’s my signature move) Please call me asap. (Ugh) I need my teeth. (Wait why did I give you a ride in the first place?) We met in the parking lot of Margarita Jones. (Oh I see. Yeah, Margarita Jones is a well renowned denture snatcher) Get back to me asap please. Thank you.” (De Nada)

Yoga Mat For Sale. Used Once. – $1 (A little pricey, but okay)

Yoga mat for sale. Used once at lunch hour class in December 2009. Usage timeline as follows: (You really don’t have to do this…)

11:45a (Oh okay. You go. Do your thing) 
Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class package and purchase a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself. (I confirm with yourself too. That’s a steal, Leroy!)

Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It smells of breath, sweat and hot. (I could have done without that detail) Take spot on floor in back of room next to cute blonde. We will date. (You’re right, that’s usually how these things work)

I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. (This is on…the yoga mat you’re selling me….correct?) This is a problem because of the hot blonde to my left and our pending courtship. She will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 30 pounds before I propose to her. (Make that 2 displeased individuals)

The shirt and sweats have to come off. I throw caution to the wind and decide to rely on my wit and conditioning to overcome any weight issues my fiancée may take issue with. This will take a lot of wit and conditioning. (My friend Pocohontas threw some shit into the wind once. Worked out great. No worries.) 

Begin small talk with my bride to be. She pretends to ignore me but I know how she can be. I allow her to concentrate and stare straight ahead and continue to pretend that I don’t exist. (This sounds healthy, you should probably keep dating.) As we finish sharing our special moment, I am suddenly aware of a sweat moustache that has formed below my nose. This must be from the all the whispering between us. (That’s the only explanation)

Instructor enters the room and ascends her special podium at the front of the room. She is a slight, agitated Chinese woman. She introduces me to the class and everyone turns around to greet me just as I decide to aggressively adjust my penis and testes packed in my Under Armor. (Again, on the yoga mat you’re selling me. These fun facts are divine.) My bride is notably unfazed.

Since I do have experience with Hot Yoga (4 sessions just 5 short years ago) I fully consider that I may be so outstanding and skilled that my instructor may call me out and ask me to guide the class. My wife will look on with a sparkle in her eye. We will make love after class. (I really don’t think that’s true)

It is now up to 95 degrees in the room. We have been practicing deep breathing exercises for the last 8 minutes. This would not be a problem if we were all breathing actual, you know, oxygen. (fair) Instead, we are breathing each other’s body odor, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables. (Don’t worry, I’ll mention them later.) (<< Really…I’m good)

It is now 100 degrees and I take notice of the humidity, which is hovering at about 90%. I feel the familiar adorning stare of my bride and decide to look back at her. She appears to be nauseated. (Shocking) I then realize that I forgot to brush my teeth prior to attending this class. We bond. (I don’t think that’s what happened there.)

It is now 110 degrees and 95% humidity. I am now balancing on one leg with the other leg crossed over the other. My arms are intertwined and I am squatting. The last time I was in this position was 44 years ago in the womb, but I’m in this for the long haul. (hahahahahahahahahaha) My wife looks slightly weathered dripping sweat and her eyeliner is streaming down her face. Well, “for better or worse” is what we committed to so we press on. (How kind of you)

The overweight Hispanic man two spots over has sweat running down his legs. At least I think its sweat. He is holding every position and has not had a sip of water since we walked in. He is making me look bad and I hate him. (Fair ground for hate. I support it)

I consider that if anyone in this room farted that we would all certainly perish. (Morbid, but I can’t disagree)

It is now 140 degrees and 100% humidity. I am covered from head to toe in sweat. There is not a square millimeter on my body that is not slippery and sweaty. I am so slimy that I feel like a sea lion or a maybe sea eel. Not even a bear trap could hold me. The sweat is stinging my eyeballs and I can no longer see. (So you’re losing vision, feeling like a sea eel, smelling unmentionable odors, and adjusting your testes….on this mat you’re selling me. This is quite the bargain.)

This room stinks of asparagus, cloves, tuna and tacos. (Oh there’s more) There is no food in the room.(You totally set me up for that) I realize that this is an amalgamation of the body odors of 30 people in a 140 degree room for the last 55 minutes. Seriously, enough with the asparagus, ok? (Alright, alright my bad)

140 degrees and 130% humidity. Look, bitch, I need my space here so don’t get all pissy with me if I accidentally sprayed you with sweat as I flipped over. Seriously, is that where this relationship is going? Get over yourself. We need counseling and she needs to be medicated. Stat! (Yes…she…needs the medication.)

150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own. I have given up on attempting any of the commands this Chinese chick is yelling out at us. I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed. (The most appropriate next step) I lose consciousness. (Probably for the best)

I have a headache and my wife is being a selfish bitch. I can’t really breathe. All I can think about is holding a cup worth of hot sand in my mouth. I cannot remember what an ice cube is and cannot remember what snow looks like. I consider that my only escape might be a crab walk across 15 bodies and then out of the room. I am paralyzed, and may never walk again so the whole crab walk thing is pretty much out. (Too paralyzed to crab walk? This is the most tragic news I’ve heard in the last 2 1/2 minutes)

I cannot move at all and cannot reach my water. Is breathing voluntary or involuntary? If it’s voluntary, I am screwed. I stopped participating in the class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! I paid for this frickin class, ok?! You work for me! Stop yelling at everyone and just tell us a story or something. (I can do stories!) It’s like juice and cracker time, ok? (Yeah, no but I won’t feed you)

It is now 165 degrees and moisture is dripping from the ceiling. The towel that I am laying on is no longer providing any wicking or drying properties. It is actually placing additional sweat on me as I touch it. My towel reeks. I cannot identify the smell but no way can it be from me. Did someone spray some stank on my towel or something? (That’s my bad. It was supposed to be a joke. But then like…okay sorry I have no excuse. I’m an asshole)

Torture session is over. I wish hateful things upon the instructor. (I can’t wait to do business with you) She graciously allows us to stay and ‘cool down’ in the room. It is 175 degrees. Who cools down in 175 degrees? A Komodo Dragon? (Your wife apparently) My wife has left the room. Probably to throw up. (Oh okay never mind)

My opportunity to escape has arrived. I roll over to my stomach and press up to my knees. It is warmer as I rise up from ground level – probably by 15 degrees. So let’s conservatively say it’s 190. I muster my final energy and slowly rise. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Towards the door. Towards the door. (Go, Leroy, Go!)

The temperature in the lobby is 72 degrees. Both nipples stiffen to diamond strength (Diamonds you say? Oh wait never mind.) and my penis begins to retract into my abdomen from the 100 degree temp swing. I can once again breathe though so I am pleased. I spot my future ex wife in the lobby. We had such a good thing going but I know that no measure of counseling will be able to unravel the day’s turmoil and mental scaring.

Arrive at Emerald City Smoothie and proceed to order a 32 oz beverage. 402 calories, 0 fat and 14 grams of protein — effectively negating any caloric burn or benefit from the last 90 minutes. I finish it in 3 minutes and spend the next 2 hours writing this memoir.

Create Craigslist ad while burning final 2 grams of protein from Smoothie and before the “shakes” consume my body.

Note to self – check car for missing wet yoga towel in am. (This is a terrible note to end on.)