Austin's Best of Craigslist: 2012 Edition

Once again, Austin Post assembles the most creative, odd, and slightly disturbing craigslist ads that have been nominated as the "best of austin." Take a look:

Guitairst for Metal Band:

What I am currently listening to: All Shall Perish, As I Lay Dying, All That Remains, Chimera, Lamb of God
What I am into: Old Metallica, Slayer, Obituary, Death, etc
What I am NOT into: Total shit like Dance Gavin Dance, Like Moths to Flames, any kind of piss-poor, sloppy guitar and whiny "my vag is so sensitive to sand" vocals.

** READ THIS ** Take a few seconds and read what I am into. Now imagine you contacting me and eventually calling me, and asking if I would like to play some blues. Or some 60s Rock. Or some Stone Temple Pilots. Or some Nickleback. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, AUSTIN? NO! The title says "Guitarist for Metal Band", not "Guitarist for chicken fucking, bluesy-riffs, and sonic diarrhea".

About me:

1. I prefer older musicians. I am 31, prefer people my age or older. Sorry kids.

2. I work, live, and get in trouble in N Austin area. Unless you have lined up clean Asian whores for after practice, I am NOT driving to Music Lab. I am not driving farther South than Parmer. Period.

3. NOT looking to make this a career. I want to make bad ass music, play out a couple times a month, possibly smoke weed, and fuck Metal chicks. That is all.

4. Please be able to play your instrument. You know what, I should not even have to write this shit here, but fuck me ... this is Austin, so I seriously have to spell this shit out:
* You know how to palm mute and use this skill.
* You have enough gear to be heard over the drums.
* You write your own music that consists of more than an open note speed picked with occasional staccato bullshit slapped on.
* If you play blues, chicken-pick, own or play a Fender, tune to some ridiculous key or schema to hide your shitty skill level, or think that smelling and looking dirty makes you a musician... DO NOT CONTACT ME.
* If you feel that for ANY REASON mommy will not let you out to play, do not contact me.

5. I own a full stack, couple effects (DISTORTION, MOTHER FUCKERS!), several guitars, Zoom H4 if we need to record a practice, and some other shit. You know, the basic stuff to meet up and play some Metal.

6. The last band I was in, the other guys were usually drunk by the end of the 2nd song. THIS IS FUCKING STUPID! You know what their shit sounded like? Four drunk clowns murdering their instruments, and one guy trying to figure out how the fucking song was supposed to be played that day. Not a good time. Please keep your alcoholism and Heroin / Crack addiction to a minimum while we practice.

I am looking for some musicians around my age who like more technical sounding Metal, around my area, who are serious about putting some songs together and playing out a bit. Please have something I can listen to so I have an idea of what you are wanting to do.

If you are another guitarist who just wants to and see if we can put some songs together, I can do that, too. Maybe we can write our shit and then try and find the other guys.

AUSTIN! You have, per capita, the highest "Fuckwit to Musician" ratio on the planet. Why so many flakes? Ninty-Five percent of you weak cow-fuckers cancel because you need to wash your skinny jeans and polish your fake glasses. You idiots are not interested in making music, please don't waste my time and yours with your bullshit and excuses. Thanks.

Against all odds, I hope to find some decent Metal Musicians to hook up with and jam. Keep your fingers crossed.

Lifetime supply of hot sauce:

I have many, many boxes of hot sauce to trade for something equally awesome. 

You will probably need a vehicle to move these boxes. I'm guessing it's about 200 lbs of sauce; easily enough to crush a man. That's a lot of sauce. Sorry hipsters, but one of those messenger bags is not going to cut it.

So yeah, ask your friend if you can borrow his car in exchange for hot sauce, or get several bicyclists with trailers and promise to feed them (sauce) if they'll help move it.

Did I mention that there's a lot of it? Probably enough to fill your bathtub, just in case you wanted to take a bath in hot sauce.

This sauce es muy rico y piquante. I know. I tried some. Tired of those bland protein shakes? Kick it up a notch! For the rest of your life!

Things that I am looking to trade for:

-a sailboat
-weapons (real or fake)
-a nice girlfriend (for my friend Jesse. I already have one, thanks!)
-free tacos from your taco stand
-Sorry, no red paperclips. I already have too many of those.
Make me an offer! I'm open to just about anything awesome!

Broken and not sure if I can be put back together:

I just got out of a really bad long term relationship, so yeah i guess you can say I have baggage, My ex was very violent and abusive, yeah i am talking black eyes violent,not only that but i was lied to and cheated on too. so im very very shaky and am not completely comfortable with men right now, i feel like a abused puppy you see at the shelter who shakes when you pet them, i know half the guys who read this have already stopped reading and have moved on past me but if you read on im going to just going to word vomit this all out, I�m not normal but I am average, I�m not sane, but I�m not crazy. I probably make less sense than anyone you have ever met, I see people all day saying what they are good at, how great they feel about it, I am not that person, I need a companion in my life, I feel I need someone more than anyone, but I won�t get mine in the typical way, I am not going to sit here and tell you all the � wonderful� things about me, I am going to sit here and tell you everything about me which is annoying, weird, and just not attractive. If you feel you can handle the things I have to say then read on. I don�t have time to sit and make my life more miserable by wasting it with a self absorbed creep who thinks they are god, you�re not, because there is no god, only enlightenment. We are each just made up of the same cells as all things, don�t feel superior. Here is goes, if you are not running after you read this list, I think you have the reward of reading on to the good things I feel I have to offer another human being��. 

I am: 

Short tempered 
Somewhat lazy when I have no interest 
mostly sad and melancholy 
rude at times 
suffer from OCD 
easily obsessed 
still live at home 
hold on to things more than a normal human being would 
have a horrible phobia of foam 
I don�t work out 
im 6ft tall 
not fat big boned 
I hate being pressured in any situation 
HATE shopping 
will twist what you say just because I am a bitch although I don�t mean to 
getting over the �other� still 
have a drinking problem 

Now the things I enjoy, you can either like or dislike them entirely up to you, it is whether you can handle them: 

I like anime 
TALL guys 
chick movies 
the water 
all music 
raw oysters 
seafood in general 
tanning salons 
hot wings 
great danes 
tattoos and holes in myself 
the internet, ie facebook 
some moderate smoking 
super loyal 
very honest 
don�t mind the sunshine 
and more booze�.. 

so here is me, tall blonde and green eyed,please send me a picture as well with a description of who you are, last time i tried this i got a million responses but no one wrote about who they are, i need to know SOMETHING about you. :)

please help me win my wife back:


Well, this is weird. But thanks for clicking and reading. 

I don't even know what terms to use. Beautician? Stylist? I haven't been cool for 20+ years, so please just let me talk. 

I am a white man who is 46 years old. I'm a dad of teenagers. Middle class. 

My wife of many years and I are having big fights, and I want to woo her back. Part of the plan is to not look like the 46-year-old slob that I fear she sees. 

I'm no bumpkin--but I'm no metrosexual, either. Honestly, I'm clueless as to fashion, looks, etc. 

So what I'm hoping to find: someone (in my mind, it's a woman in her 30s who is young enough to be hip and mature enough to understand me) who will spend a day with me making me more attractive to my wife. 

If this sounds weird to you, please don't respond. If you find this ridiculous, please move on. 

But if you want to help a decent guy who is in love with his wife, please write. She's back in town on Wednesday--I want my hair and skin and clothes and whatever else to look awesome by then. 

I will pay $200 for 8 hours of consulting. You would need to listen to me about the things I know she likes (like curls at the back of my hair), and not try to make me look like I'm 20-something, or anything else I'm not. But I'm very open to a fresh perspective. And, of course, you would need to be respectful, and in earnest. 

When you get right down to it, we're all just really trying, right? I need some help. I'm no creeper--I'm not trying to meet someone, or whatever--maybe you're not a 30-something woman, maybe you're a 20- or 80-something gay man or whatever--I don't care. I'm just a middle-aged guy who needs some help in looking as best he can (which won't be much) to try to win his wife back. If you can help, please get in touch. 

It'll be a challenge: I have braces, and a bald spot! Well, you play the hand you're dealt. 

My wife is the love of my life, and I want nothing more than to be the best I can be for her. 

Thanks for reading--I hope you can help--

to the person who stole my laundry detergent:

Hello, fellow human being. I'm sorry for whatever happened during your day/week/life that made you feel that you had to take my laundry detergent which I set atop the washing machine at the 43rd Street/Duval laundromat, around midday, today. I am more saddened by the loss of my laundry bag--the perfect mesh drawstring complete with hefty shoulder strap--which you also abducted. Yes, I know that I set it underneath the "laundromat is not responsible for your personal property sign," but no, I did not place it there intentionally in order to test fate. Maybe that's funny or ironic to you, I do not know. 

I wonder if you think that I am naive by leaving my detergent unattended, or if you rationalized your kidnapping decision by thinking you were teaching me a lesson. Whether or not you thought you needed to steal my bag, by doing so, you create sadness and debt for your future self. I don't want that, because when we do bad things to each other, we hurt ourselves just as much as the other person. Despite the difference in our thoughts, bodies, ideas, feelings, values, homes and relationships, we are all part of the same everything. 

Indeed, you have taught me a lesson, and I want to share that with you: Today I learned that no matter who you are, and no matter what situation you are in, I don't want anything bad to happen to you. I hope that you use that laundry bag, or that it finds someone who needs it as much as I appreciate it. I hope that you use every drop of that laundry detergent, and that it makes your clothes so fresh. And thank you, for making me pause during my day, and think about you, whom I will probably never meet. 

I am grateful for you, and I want to show you by giving you a gift. I want to take the debt that you have created today, and absorb it into myself. I don't want any more pain to come into your life. I want to relieve you of your worries, your sicknesses and your suffering, because I am no better than you or different from you. We are exactly the same.

How to write a successful W4W personal ad

Austin Craigslist Date: 2009-04-06, 6:11PM CDT

Dear women of Austin:

I love you. As a queer myself, I know how useful the Internet can be in connecting with similar folk, and I have used it successfully. For that reason, I wanted to give you a few tips on writing posts that bring you responses from people of quality, people you may even find attractive.

We must begin with how the ad is written.

1. GET OFF THE CAPS LOCK. I know you're excited. The Internet can be scary, in a thrilling sort of way. But all caps makes you look insane. It conjures up the image of one of those people with no concept of volume or personal space, the type of person who thinks that you and she are destined to be together after one date, the kind of person that gets jealous when someone looks your way in the grocery store. Nobody wants that person. Nobody.

2. use the shift key. I will grant that I know some very intelligent people who have an allergy to the uppercase side of the alphabet, but it demonstrates lack of concern for others. This especially applies if the only word you capitalize is "I". There's some psychology there.

3. Spell-check, for Christ's sake. You are on a computer, you can find a spell checker. You might have a great personality, but the inability to spell simple words like "you" or "know" casts a knuckledragging tone over your whole post. You might even be suspected of being fourteen.

4. Punctuation. Use it, and use it correctly. There are only three dots in an ellipsis, like so (...), and I fear that at the current rate of use we will be facing record shortages within a decade. The same goes for the humble exclamation point, who never expected that he'd be forced into so many orgies. On the other hand, the comma is ready and willing to help break up your monster blocks of text.

5. No textspeak. Lol all you want, but it's not making you look anything but hysterical.

Next, we must discuss presentation.

1. Stand out. So you like the outdoors, music, dancing, and walking your dog. Congratulations, you are compatible with 90% of Austin lesbians. (The other 10% are too busy attempting to seduce their ex-girlfriend's girlfriend's sister's ex-girlfriend to read Craigslist.) Be more specific, and play up the quirkier aspects of your character. Being different can be a very good thing.

2. On the other hand, avoid alarming specificity. You may be absolutely sure that your dream girl is slightly butch but not really butch, between 5'6" and 5'9", with brown hair and blue eyes and cute glasses and really really loves Chuck Palahniuk , but you may be seriously limiting your chances of success with anyone if you put all that in an ad. This is true even if you are actually targeting your ex-girlfriend's girlfriend's sister's ex-girlfriend, and are too shy to actually, like, ask her out or something.

3. Don't be a bigot. "White or Hispanic women only" is a popular one. It makes the reader suspect the poster belongs to some sort of queer-friendly aryan supremacist group, one where they sew little rainbow patches on their hoods and robes. Similarly, the phrase "no fatties" has no appeal. Even if the reader is slim, she may feel disinclined to hook up with someone as deep as a midsummer puddle.

4. Don't be an obvious man. Not to say that dykes don't have any pubic hair preferences, but getting into the nitty-gritty of the downstairs carpet right away raises suspicion. Also, no one with half a brain is going to send you naked pictures and explicit messages right off the bat. Not any woman, anyway. Ruminate on that for a while.

5. Pictures. Most of us here have boobs and have had contact with other boobs. We are not terribly swayed by grainy photos of tits that may or may not actually belong to the poster. Anonymous bare boobies glisten with palpable desperation. There is also no need to post pictures of your face if you are only going to blur out all recognizable characteristics, unless of course you are hoping to attract tooth fetishists and compliments on your hair.

6. Partnered people: I understand the poly thing, believe me. But you all need to google "hot-bi-babe syndrome", please and thank you . Additionally, ladies, it is very obvious when your boyfriend is putting you up to posting here. Talk about yourself, not your hot pussy. That comes later (so to speak).

7. Spammers: You can at least take the time to make sure you change all the pronouns as you move from one section to the next.

Once you have this all down, we can move on to the business of answering ads.

1. Keep a lid on your neuroses. I once got a reply where the person, whom I had never spoken to before in my life, declared that if I did not answer her message she would conclude that I was shallow and judgemental. As it turned out, I was okay with that.

2. Describe yourself a bit. It's rather tiring to reply to messages that say nothing more than "I like your ad wanna chat?" Even the spambots and the lonely Russian mail-order brides are more talkative.

3. Abide by everything else written above.

A note on Missed Connections:

Missed Connections is a great place to vent. However, I think greater specificity can be a good thing. The more specific you are about the intended recipient, the less likely you are to have your post hijacked by nutjobs who get into heated dialogues with other nutjobs about things that happened with other people who are not the least bit aware of what's going on. If you are one of these nutjobs, go outside.

I hope these tips help you find the love, friendship, and pussy you are looking for. Good luck!

1978 Triumph Spitfire

Austin Craigslist Date: 2009-01-12, 1:32PM CST

Runs surprisingly well, transmission shifts nice. Brakes work well. Passes inspection, all lights, wipers and horn function. Minimal rust, solid rockers, good floor. It's a 20-footer. Lots of dings and hickies but complete. Originally had the rubber bumpers until chrome bumpers from an earlier car were installed. The alloy wheels are Minilite copies called Minator also made in England. The tires are good condition Kumho. The paint is dull so this could be a good beginner's painting project. The convertible top isn't perforated and has clear windows. Unless I happen to fix it prior to selling, the driver's door opens from the outside handle only, the passenger side only from the inside. The horn honks like it has a frog in its throat. I have no idea how many miles are on this car as the odometer has never worked. It marks its territory with a few drops of oil, doesn't smoke and has good oil pressure. The gauges all work, the dash lights illuminate, the heater blows hot in any season. The driver's seat needs upholstery repair. It comes with a tonneau cover to cover the cockpit without putting the top up.

Learn the art of "Shabby Chic". Most people having a mid-life crisis blow a king's ransom on a Porsche Boxster or late 60's Stingray - or - grow the obligatory cliche goatee + big gut and buy a Harley. We both know you're not that lacking in creativity. You want a car that says you take the less trodden path, that you're mechanically inclined and that you like to park anywhere without concern for door dings or theft. Voila! Here's your car: pre-dinged and invisible to car thieves, the thrill of top-down British motoring at a sub-Geo Metro price. You won't have to wear a bag over your head with this $2K purchase. Cheapskates rejoice: register it as an antique for once-every-5-years renewals, and no inspections. Surprisingly, insuring this car is peanuts.

Buyer's Guide for the Married Man (or) How To Justify Buying My Car to a Significant Other

There's no rational justification for buying this car so you'll need to stretch the truth. For example if you're a one-car household you could say it's the second car for commuting to a nearby employer or for getting groceries. You and I both know your employer doesn't look favorably on iconoclasts in tiny cars who arrive late and blame dodgy Lucas electrics. We also know that this is the wrong car for trips to Costco, but it's all about the S.O. (significant other) at this point. You can call it an economy car as it's a 1500cc 4-cylinder car that weighs about as much as a full dress Harley Davidson so your nose won't go Pinocchio on this point. You could also point out you've upped your life insurance to a cool $1 million dollars and this car doesn't have air bags & sits at the height of a big rig's lug nuts. Think outside the box. You can do it. Working together we are a team. (Bonus points: this car played a role in the unraveling of a particularly dumb marriage, and for that I am glad. I should keep it as a memento but feel it might help some other trapped person break the bonds of a loveless relationship.)

* Minlite alloy wheels
* Weber carbueretor
* Canon intake
* Pacesetter headers
* Monza four tip exhaust
* Air adjustable rear shocks
* Chrome bumpers

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-12-16, 9:27PM CST

A Letter from a Shelter Manager

I think our society needs a huge "Wake-up" call. As a shelter manager, I am going to share a little insight with you all...a view from the inside if you will.

First off, all of you breeders/sellers should be made to work in the "back" of an animal shelter for just one day. Maybe if you saw the life drain from a few sad, lost, confused eyes, you would change your mind about breeding and selling to people you don't even know.

That puppy you just sold will most likely end up in my shelter when it's not a cute little puppy anymore. So how would you feel if you knew that there's about a 90% chance that dog will never walk out of the shelter it is going to be dumped at? Purebred or not! About 50% of all of the dogs that are "owner surrenders" or "strays", that come into my shelter are purebred dogs.

The most common excuses I hear are; "We are moving and we can't take our dog (or cat)." Really? Where are you moving too that doesn't allow pets? Or they say "The dog got bigger than we thought it would". How big did you think a German Shepherd would get? "We don't have time for her". Really? I work a 10-12 hour day and still have time for my 6 dogs! "She's tearing up our yard". How about making her a part of your family? They always tell me "We just don't want to have to stress about finding a place for her we know she'll get adopted, she's a good dog".

Odds are your pet won't get adopted & how stressful do you think being in a shelter is? Well, let me tell you, your pet has 72 hours to find a new family from the moment you drop it off. Sometimes a little longer if the shelter isn't full and your dog manages to stay completely healthy. If it sniffles, it dies. Your pet will be confined to a small run/kennel in a room with about 25 other barking or crying animals. It will have to relieve itself where it eats and sleeps. It will be depressed and it will cry constantly for the family that abandoned it. If your pet is lucky, I will have enough volunteers in that day to take him/her for a walk. If I don't, your pet won't get any attention besides having a bowl of food slid under the kennel door and the waste sprayed out of its pen with a high-powered hose. If your dog is big, black or any of the "Bully" breeds (pit bull, rottie, mastiff, etc) it was pretty much dead when you walked it through the front door.

Those dogs just don't get adopted. It doesn't matter how 'sweet' or 'well behaved' they are.

If your dog doesn't get adopted within its 72 hours and the shelter is full, it will be destroyed. If the shelter isn't full and your dog is good enough, and of a desirable enough breed it may get a stay of execution, but not for long . Most dogs get very kennel protective after about a week and are destroyed for showing aggression. Even the sweetest dogs will turn in this environment. If your pet makes it over all of those hurdles chances are it will get kennel cough or an upper respiratory infection and will be destroyed because shelters just don't have the funds to pay for even a $100 treatment.

Here's a little euthanasia 101 for those of you that have never witnessed a perfectly healthy, scared animal being "put-down".

First, your pet will be taken from its kennel on a leash. They always look like they think they are going for a walk happy, wagging their tails. Until they get to "The Room", every one of them freaks out and puts on the brakes when we get to the door. It must smell like death or they can feel the sad souls that are left in there, it's strange, but it happens with every one of them. Your dog or cat will be restrained, held down by 1 or 2 vet techs depending on the size and how freaked out they are. Then a euthanasia tech or a vet will start the process. They will find a vein in the front leg and inject a lethal dose of the "pink stuff". Hopefully your pet doesn't panic from being restrained and jerk. I've seen the needles tear out of a leg and been covered with the resulting blood and been deafened by the yelps and screams. They all don't just "go to sleep", sometimes they spasm for a while, gasp for air and defecate on themselves.

When it all ends, your pets corpse will be stacked like firewood in a large freezer in the back with all of the other animals that were killed waiting to be picked up like garbage. What happens next? Cremated? Taken to the dump? Rendered into pet food? You'll never know and it probably won't even cross your mind. It was just an animal and you can always buy another one, right?

I hope that those of you that have read this are bawling your eyes out and can't get the pictures out of your head I deal with everyday on the way home from work.

I hate my job, I hate that it exists & I hate that it will always be there unless you people make some changes and realize that the lives you are affecting go much farther than the pets you dump at a shelter.

Between 9 and 11 MILLION animals die every year in shelters and only you can stop it. I do my best to save every life I can but rescues are always full, and there are more animals coming in everyday than there are homes.


Hate me if you want to. The truth hurts and reality is what it is. I just hope I maybe changed one persons mind about breeding their dog, taking their loving pet to a shelter, or buying a dog. I hope that someone will walk into my shelter and say "I saw this and it made me want to adopt". THAT WOULD MAKE IT WORTH IT


Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-12-15, 11:14AM CST

I need to get rid of this rat that has been in my car for weeks now.
it's cheweed through wiring for my gas gage and other things

Please let me know if you know how to get a critter out of a car
I've set up snap traps and glue pads down and even the Rat Zapper 2000 and

This rat is smart enough to avoid getting trapped.
rat inside a Tahoe
about a week with snap traps out
enjoys cheese and peanut butter

Hideous, Mean, Saggy-titted Cur

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-10-24, 11:35AM CDT

Okay, so about three months ago my roommate takes in this stray dog. She's horrible, and I'm a dog lover, so I don't say that lightly. I say that as heavily as possible. And please don't flag this post for removal, because there is a real dog whose life is at stake here, and although you may disagree with my not writing flowery Ad-Man prose about her, hell, I'm just being honest. This dog sucks.

When my roommate found her on the streets, she was malnourished and skittish and had heart worms. You know, I've read more and more stories about pets being abandoned lately because of the economy. I recently got back from a gay wedding in California where one of the grooms had just rescued a Papillon he found starving in a ditch. He was neurotic and defensive for like the first few days, but now a week later he has settled in, and is doing great. And the Papillon's doing well, too. But this pendulously mammaried cur - Elzora, my roommate calls her, though you might as well be meowing at her, because she doesn't know the difference - she is not like that. Not. Like. That. At. All. This is not the precious, precocious Papillon someone rescues from a ditch. This is the miserable, ugly bitch (I use the term technically) that you make a little scrunchy-face at while glancing at it askance...before calling fricking Animal Control.

Roomie, who seriously must have a heart the size of the state, felt sorry for her and took her in and he fed her and took her to the vet. Roomie and I are poor, but he treated her heart worms, got her shots, etc., all with the idea that eventually he was going to put her up for adoption here or take her to a no-kill shelter. (Roomie is also, evidently, a dreamer.) But then she's got behavior problems (which I'm getting to...), and is as ugly as a dead frog squashed by a semi (which I'm also getting to...), and has health issues likely stemming from past abuse (which oh boy, I'm getting to...).

Elzora, or "Mama Dog," as she is more frequently called, is supposedly an Australian Kelpie (according to the vet) though she looks to me like she's got some Doberman in her. But ironically, Kelpies are renown for their agility. Mama Dog is supposedly around 2 years old, but is as agile as a drunk granny on crack. (UPDATE: The hive mind consensus is that she is more Dobie than Kelpie.)

If you want to know what she looks like, she's a dead ringer for the Capitoline Wolf. Look it up on Wikipedia while the article is still accurate. So Elzora would be great if you had two infants, for example, that you wanted to abandon in the woods only to have them found Western Civilization. Without the two little baby statues beneath her, though, I have to say that the first thing you notice about Mama Dog is: nipples. Obscenely large nipples. We think she was probably used for breeding or something because there's really no other explanation. I'm not being cruel, I'm just saying. Because there's one nipple in particular that is really disturbing. The rest you could maybe overlook. But she has this one nipple that hangs really low, and it's fat, but then it gets really skinny, and then it gets fat again. It's like it's just barely hanging on, though it's not, and evidently there's nothing 'wrong' with it except how it looks. But man, that nipple is unsettling.

Having been used for breeding might also explain the issue with her hind legs. When she lies down, it's normally with her legs fully extended, off to the side. And she walks funny, like her back legs don't bend that well. The vet didn't say anything about it and she doesn't appear to be in any pain, so it may have come from being raised cramped up in a cage, or from always being lying down, nursing puppies, or maybe from giving birth so many times: who knows. She doesn't really run unless she sees a squirrel, but even then it's kind of limpy-gimpy. She loves to play with tennis balls, but because of the past abuse to her rear legs, she just kind of lamely bats them around in front of herself with her front paws. It's endearing in a sad way. I don't know: maybe she'd make a good pet for someone who wanted to teach their children that life is cruel and unfair and that people sometimes mistreat animals. That's not what I'd want to teach my kids, but who's to judge? Anyhow...Kelpie, yes...but the whole Agile Kelpie thing: Just Not Happening.

Finally, there's her temperament. She's loving and protective of her humans. Maybe a little too protective, as she can growl at strangers. But put her with a dog that's slightly larger than her and she goes nuts. Like, foaming at the frickin' mouth nuts. She probably would not be a good Dog Park dog, though we've never tried it. On the other hand, she would likely provide excellent protection from zombies.

One of my dogs, Chloe, is slightly larger than Elzora and Elzora hounds her constantly. She stares her down, incessantly circles her - she seriously will not leave Chloe alone. Again, maybe due to past abuse or her previous environment, I think Elzora feels like she has to establish herself as alpha dog for reasons of survival. But she's hindered because due to her hips she cannot engage in typical dominance behavior (mounting - yes, even females do it). So she growls and will attempt to corral the dog that intimidates her. If you try to stop her or get her to leave the other dog alone, she will start foaming at the mouth. Seriously. Eventually, Elzora goads the other dog enough that they will fight. She can't win because she's disabled, but she 100% will not listen and will not back down. She doesn't seem to be threatened by smaller dogs...but she would probably be best in a one-dog household.

On the positive side, she does appear to be house trained and gets along well with cats. And again, there's the thing with zombies.

But okay, seriously, if somebody doesn't take her off of Craigslist, then she's going to the pound, where it's guaranteed euthanasia. My roommate wanted to write a "nice" ad for her, but he's out of town, and frankly, he kept putting it off and putting it off because he probably couldn't think of anything nice to say about her either. He gave me the go-ahead to post an ad and if nobody responds, to drop her off at the pound.

PLEASE don't write any sanctimonious responses about all the things we really should do for this dog. My roommate's on disability and I've just moved to town and have yet to find a steady job - I'm doing landscape work currently, and the damn dog's not mine to begin with. But neither of us has the time or money for aggression training or cosmetic nipple surgery or anything else. Simply put, her time here is done and her only hope for a solution now is you. Don't write me with suggestions. Come get her and implement them yourself.



Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-09-23, 9:19AM CDT

I need original cell phone statements scanned and numbers changed then reprinted front and back!, if this is something you can do well and do in a very quick manner I need to speak with you asap... There are three to four bills that need to adjusted with numbers on pages, front and back.

I am dealing with a jealous boyfriend that wants to see my statements asap.

I am willing to compensate with a nice sum of cash!

I will come to your location and wait to have them done, must have a a nicer printer, I will supply the paper.
rocketship/boat/race car/fort/house/time machine

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-06-03, 7:03PM CDT

please come pick up our gently used rocketship/boat/race car/fort/house/time machine. don't spend your 600 stimulus clams on your kids. give dubya the finger while you invest it and get them this!!

it will be gone by thursday if no responses. i am 6'3" so it is obviously big enough to fly to the moon, cross the atlantic, win the indy 500, defend against invading raiders, do fake home remodeling projects, or travel back in time to tell your parents you don't want a crappy box.

Dear Cat,

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-03-24, 12:02PM CDT

Dear Cat,
I have some issues with you right now that I would like to hash out. And now is as good a time as any with you laying over my arms while I am trying to type on the computer. You don't even look comfortable and you can't breathe lying like that with your butt higher up than your head but your brain is the size of a walnut so I will forgive you.
First of all, the litterbox. Is it your goal to poop on the rim of the box? Because if it is, bravo! Mission accomplished, you can stop now. You have proved your point. It is not funny anymore, and I have run out of sticks in the yard to clean it off with. The box is big enough, and you are still small, so don't even go there.
Now... making pointless, incessant noises. If I take something away from you because I am tired of hearing it scoot across the floor for the last 2 hours, it does not mean to go find something else to mess with. I mean really where do you find this stuff? A wad of paper? A bottle cap? Is that really that fun to play with?
I put things on the coffee table because I want them there. I do not want you to knock EVERYTHING off of the coffee table in one of your mindless "tearing ass through the house for no reason" adventures every single day. Once in a while, it is amusing. Every day, it's not that funny.
Your ass stinks. I mean REALLY stinks. Like the worst poop you've ever smelled. Why do you smell soooo horrible? I thought cats were clean! I have never experienced this smelly, stinky cat phenomena with any other cat on this Earth. Why, God, did you give me the most stinky cat in this solar system? And Cat, why do you insist on showing me your ass? I know it stinks, but what am I supposed to do about it? Bathe you??? LOL! Remember the last time that happened? I still have the scars... Also, when you sit on my arm, please have the kindness to put your tail over your butthole so it doesn't come into contact with my skin. I might catch something.
Lastly, I am allergic to you. I know this isn't your fault, but knowing this, why do you insist on rubbing the whole length of your body on my face? Okay... I just pulled a CATHAIR out of my eye. No wonder my eyes are itchy if you are purposefully depositing your dander into my eyes! What are you trying to prove here? That you know I'm stuck with you? While you're busy carrying things about the house in your mouth to deposit them into some area that I haven't discovered yet- would you mind bringing me a peice of sandpaper to me so that I can alleviate the itching you've caused me? Oh- while we're on this subject, I need my hair ties back- I know you have them. Thanks.

Mom, I know you're there.

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-03-11, 4:38PM CDT

Mom, I know you’re out there, reading this.

How do I know you’re out there?

Let’s begin with that ad of mine that you recently responded to, shall we? You know the one I’m talking about. It was entitled, “Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me? m4w—22” That ad ran for three days before I got a response, and I can’t tell you Mom, how my heart fell when I saw the photo that accompanied the response. It was your Realtor’s headshot, the one on your business card. Even worse was the text of your response. I’m so, so sorry I know now what you’d do to me if we ever “hooked up.” On the other hand, Dad must’ve been a very, very lucky guy back in the day. I dunno, maybe he still is.

I guess, Mom, when I think a bit about it, that I should resign myself to whatever it is that you are doing. After all, you’re an adult and I’m an adult. I can’t tell you what you should do with your life.

But Mom, I’d like to raise a few points.

The first point I’d like to raise is that you’re still married to Dad. Please, please PLEASE tell me that you have his blessing. My mind is reeling now, hoping that you’re not the people who posted “Fun Couple Looking For Others MW4MW 57” I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that it is you. Now that I know you’re cruising CE, I suspect that there aren’t too many other 57 year old swingers from the Westlake area posting on Craigslist.

The second point I’d like to raise is that you owe it to whoever you’re trying to hook up with to be honest. I mean, I lived with you and Dad for 18 years. You’re not that fun.

Finally, I’d like you to stop responding to my “College Stud Needs a MILF m4w 22” ads. The only one who should find you to be MILF-y at all is Dad. For me, you are just an “M”. Got it?

Your son.

PS. I’m going to swing by at around 7-7:30-ish to do a load of wash, is that okay? I tried to call you at the office, but they kept telling me that you’re busy.

Awesome handstitched rug made from ex's fave shirts.

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-03-04, 5:20AM CST

Allright folks...I have this lovely, amazing rug made hade out of my evil ex-fiance's favorite shirts! My idea was this...I would cut them up and sew them together in order to make a mat to place under my cat's litter box. Seemed pretty deserving, right? But then I thought...when my ex left me for a 19 year old hussy, really he ditched Tony Montana (my awesome cat) as well, and Tony shouldn't have to walk on the ex's shirt day in and day out (even if it is only to do his kitty "business").

SO! I am offering you all a piece of history. This rug was made from 3 of my ex's most prized shirts, including an old school Beastie Boys shirt he got at a concert years ago. It really is something, and I spent a lot of time making it, so I don't want it to go to waste.

What do I want in return? Well, I'm pretty broke. Our breakup left me essentially pennyless, but whatever. I'm willing to accept anything in return (extra points if YOU have a tshirt rug made from your evil ex's shirt that you would like to trade). Here's the catch have to promise to abuse this rug. I mean straight up abuse it. Make it a front door mat so everyone can wipe their feet on it. Put it under your cat's litter box. Hang it on the wall and throw offensive things at it...I don't care. But if you could send me a photo of the rug once you've had your filthy way with it, I would be much obliged :D

This is a small photo of the rug in question. It is quite large, and if you want, I have a couple more shirts of his that I would gladly attatch to this rug, making it much larger. If you would like a better photo, please just ask, and I will send one your way. But please, serious offers only. This is a work of art, and I am quite proud of it.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.

I can't believe I ate ants for you - w4m

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-02-21, 9:27PM CST

When you had a small group over for bbq at your place I pretended I didn't notice the tortilla chips had ants all over them and ate them anyway. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of your friends and make them question the sanitary quality of the food they were about to eat. Now that I have gotten absolutely nowhere with you I deeply regret this decision.

Pheromone Assault - m4w

Austin Craigslist Date: 2008-02-19, 1:18AM CST

I was trying desperately to pay attention/stay awake during the lecture on Saturday, when, much to my surprise, I was visited by an erection. Not just any erection, but my very own. How could this possibly be happening in such a benign and sterile environment? The break rolled around. Time to get up, very cautiously, at that, collect my seemingly uncontrollable libido and refocus my attentions on...basically anything besides my package. Lo and behold, as we reconvened, again I was struck with the terror I haven't felt since I was sixteen years old. My only conclusion is that ovulation had someone spitting olfactory arousal like a garden sprinkler. Please, do me, and my member, a favor the next time your uterus is screaming for seed; wear a sweater, or latex panties, or a cellophane body suit. Anything to keep your hormonal telekinesis under wraps.

My Missed Connection with Hard-Earned Cervical Annihilation. - w4m

Austin Craigslist Date: 2007-12-17, 12:18PM CST

Okay, look: I know there's been a lot of buildup. All those sloppy drunken looks, rubbing thighs on beer-soaked couches, me all dopey-smiley watching you roll around on the floor and scream for your band. One time you showed up unexpectedly at a party, and I Febrezed myself in the bathroom so you would think I smell pretty. We go together like bacon and eggs. Like hookers and blow.

And then, finally, I mustered up the ovaries to openly proposition you. We rolled around in bed for a while. I fumbled for the goods, and scha-BLAM! Your next generation, all over my hand. It was cool, though. We were excited.

But this last time, we were relatively sober. I was in peak condition! I pulled my clothes off all slow-like, then crawled up the bed, making dick-happy noises, getting girl-juice on your leg. I had just enough Schlitz in my system to administer a truly impassioned blowjob without picking the lint from your belly button (it was distracting, but the sheer force of libido compelled me to let this slide). You got all thigh-quivery. I made my move.

Slowly, I pried my mouth away from your kickstand and straddled you. Sweet Mother of God, did you ever feel good! I began to slowly grind, kissing your neck, my hand in your hair...

When, all of a sudden, you picked me up by my hips and threw me. THREW me! I came crashing down on the bed to your left, a truly impressive mid-coital bodyslam. Cunthurt and bewildered, I am immediately turned to inquire, "What the fuck?"

You responded by spraying your boy-goo all over my tummy!

Okay, listen: I know I'm good at what I do. But three minutes is not acceptable. I've seen virginities come and go in faster time. And just going to sleep was pretty uncool, too. I'm a woman, and sex is a buyer's market for me. I shouldn't have to jerk off in my bathroom, fantasizing about the goddamn video store clerk while you sleep in my bed.

You gotta step up your game, baby. Or I'll find another guy with dumb tattoos to annihilate my cervix for you.

An Open Letter to Bi-curious Drunk Girls

Austin Craigslist Date: 2007-08-26, 2:57PM CDT

Dear Bi-curious Drunk Girls,

I have something I need to get off my chest. While it's been fun, the kissing and making out and such, something's got to give. You see, I know the minute you start talking about how you "like girls, too", or "think about women a lot" that you're eventually going to ask me to kiss you. I don't mind this at all. In fact, I generally enjoy it. Where I start having a problem is when I try to decide just how drunk you are.

I mean, I've been there, drunk that is. And I've been taken advantage of a time or two in that inebriated state. And while I'll be the first to admit I can be a real asshole at times, I try not to take advantage of other people. I consider nailing a girl who's had a few too many "taking advantage". Even if she acts like that's what she wants. Even if she drunk dials me an hour later. You know you didn't leave anything in my car.

I'm just asking for a little help here. So today, while you're relatively sober, this is what I want you to do:

Give me written permission.

That's right, put it on paper. Say "I (fill in the blank), being of sound and sober mind, give permission to the next hot dyke I hit on to nail me soundly. Sincerely, (fill in the blank again)." Then make sure you take it with you the next time you head out to get shit-faced.

It's that simple.

It will make me feel better about doing what I want to do anyway, which is you.


An ethical, but sexually frustrated queer

True Story: Battle Asses.

Austin Craigslist Date: 2007-05-02, 1:25PM CDT

Sorry, I don't have anything to post about layoffs or politics, but I DO have another story from the Public Bathroom. Enjoy.

You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my IT Computer Nerd business: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each others eye every now and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and I am on to your games.

I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on that makes the bathroom, smell like the inside of a dead monkey's colon, and nodded at me. I got you this time, fucker.

I give you my icey grin and nod back, then hurry back to my office. It's almost noon, and that's the time you like to run to the toilet and preform your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe in your country there is no commen sense that would tell you that lunch time = hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the high octane liquid shit attack you subjigate them too.

But I got you this time. Yeah fucker I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU! Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed brocoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese.

I never eat this shit, it's all greasy and fucking nasty, but today is the day I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almsot die. My stomach feels like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin's thighs at Church.

Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my face and arms is from running. She doesn't realize that it's a cold sweat induced by my severe sphicter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to the Death Ass Arena.

You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the fucking sinks. You stupid, socially retarded fuck. Fine. You have yet to begin your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle.

Your opening slavo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-shot closer. I laugh and show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs.

The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal fortitude for full out war.

You do not dissapoint me.

With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser at the urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots dissapear from my vision. My head clears. I am ready.

"AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Butt Log".

Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers the Indian Ass Gutter oder of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over.

The only thing I can think of is that you must has completly unzipped your ass to your elbow. That's the only way I could begin to explain the lumpy, creamy splashs falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shake with whole strawberries in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my throne, unsure if I will survive.

I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift up onto the toes and my legs start to shake.

"You want to play??" I growls. A low moaning comes from my stomach, like a dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly recal perfume. I hear you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can't get away, can you? No. You can't.

Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream. Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too late!

Oders pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled chicken assholes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice. Rosie O'Donnel's racid crotch farts. The smell of your mom's dank, hairy Middle Eastern armpits.

Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, Fucker!" I yell, and laugh again. You say nothing.

It's all over except for the clean up. Fuck with me again, you shit filled Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting.


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