To the Crazy-bat-****-lady who picked up the free fridge
Date: 2007-11-30, 10:06PM EST


Dear Crazy-As-Bat-****-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 giving away a fridge, not a fridge with rope. Nor was I offering a fridge with padding so that the pleather seats on your piece of crap 89 ford pinto with no hub caps car don't get marked up.

2. What part of ' 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 Bumble**** on the coldest 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 11:30 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 **** 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 years ago, I used it for a couple of months, ok, I lied, I used it a whole year. The fact is, you're not buying a race horse, you're buying a used fridge.

4. No, I will not throw in a couple bucks of gas money to pick it up because your **** retentive eyes picked up the ittiest, bittiest hairline scratch with a microscope so it wasnt completly described. I'm not making judgements on you, but I'm pretty damn sure Donald Trump didn't send you across the state 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 dont have one in a diffrent color to match your other appliances, No, I don't know where you can get another fridge just like this one for your friend. Yes, I know it's in great condition, and I'm sure you'd like your other crazy-as-bat-****-mini-fridge-finding-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 guy that gave you the fridge

I met you at the bar last night, and we hit it off. Ya we were both a little buzzed, but you seemed as into me as I was into you. Things got to things, we made out a bit, and you ended up going home with me on the back of my motorcycle, which was awesome because that doesn't usually happen to me. I luckily had the extra helmet with me and let you wear my bike jacket while suffering the cold on the way home. I was feeling pretty happy and lucky to say the least.

This is where things got crazy.

I don't know if you slipped, or thought I was taking you home to kill you, or if your're just plain crazy and had a change of heart, but all of a sudden you let go of me MID-TURN and went flying into the bushes at about 10-15mph near the park by my house. I was so freaked out!!! when I looked back to see you fumbling in the bushes I could only PRAY TO GOD that you didn't hit the asphalt or something worse.

I really thought you must have been hurt at least a bit, but as I turned around to come check on you, you took off into the unlit park running full speed with my helmet and jacket still on! I parked my bike and looked for you for over 2 hours calling your name until I was so cold I had to go home or risk freezing to death.

WTF

Im sorry for what happened and I really hope your're ok, really I do, but seriously WTF. Running into a forested park in the middle of the night like that....I really can't begin to guess what you were thinking, and you weren't that drunk, but i suppose my "crazy-***** o' meter" wasn't working at the bar that night, and from the speed you took off I can only surmise that your're not that hurt. I would like my expensive bike gear back though, I hope it kept you warm during your psychotic episode, but it IS mine and I kinda need it to get around in the winter. If you could return it to the bar for me, check in with your shrink, and promise to never come near me again that would be great, cause you scared the #*$% outta me and are costing me alot of money.

Sincerely,
Very cold/poor motorcycle rider who will never let women near his bike again.

Reply to: pers-440243042@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-04, 6:34PM EDT


hi.........
one legged man missing his right leg. i am looking for a woman missing her left leg so she can help me find my balance in life.......i am looking for a healthy woman without athletes foot........lets hop to a movie .....or lets stay home and watch my favorite movie footloose and put our foot up and relax.........im not really into swimming........ive tried other dating sites but they always leave me stumped..........i like a woman that puts her best foot fowards...........i am a normal guy not into foot fetishes.

So about a week ago, I posted an ad on craigslist after some friends suggested it. With friends like these, right? 3 dates in one week is good progress!

"Date #1 - The Young'en"

This contestant seemed sweet enough, a southern bluebell type with big dreams and no clues, I’m just the stability she needs. Enter Mr. Hero. After talking on the phone for a while, she suggested we get together. Fine, I'm thinking, this is gonna be easier than I thought. We agreed to meet at Starbucks in Santa Monica by 3rd street, nice and safe and very public. I'm there maybe 5 minutes early. 20 minutes rolls by and I'm thinking, ok, she's a no-show so I'm outta there, tail between my legs and all. But as I'm leaving my cell rings and it's her. "I'm running behind, please wait for me!" Ok so fine, that's cool and I thank her for calling at least to let me know. I’m a nice guy, right? I understand sh** happens, so it’s really no problem. Another 20 or so minutes rolls by and I'm back to getting really annoyed, sh**, my hair was perfect today, too.

It's been almost an hour and my cell rings a second time.. "I'm sooo sorry, I'll be right there!" I give her an 'out', saying "Look, we can do this another time, it's no problem.." But she insists and is on her way and how she really wants to see me, bla bla. Another 30 minutes goes by, and yes, I have rocks in my head for waiting at all. But she finally calls a third time saying she's pulling up in a cab. I look out the window and, sure enough...

I wander outside and she's arguing with the cabby over... something. So I'm standing there and out from the back seat steps this girl who looks like she's just been run over. Repeatedly. Soaked, she’s sweating so much she’s actually shaking, what the..? She’s pale as a ghost – christ, this girl’s almost green. "Uh... you ok?" She's out of breath and looking really f***ing... bad. She's young, only 23 but looks like she's escaped from a meth lab. The cab's still waiting and she's basically leaning out the back door. "I just left the clinic and, well, I just found out I'm pregnant." Good times. Well what would you do? I say the only, witty, dumbass thing I can think of "Well, at least we know it's not mine!" as I crack a stupid f***ing smile.

So she says "I'm sooo sorry, I'll call you.." and with that, hops back into the cab and is gone. I'm thinking, this could only happen to me.

This girl had just been in town for a week. She'd come here from Pennsylvania to go to school or to pursue some other daydream, and was staying with her aunt and uncle. It turns out that she'd hit Venice Beach the day after getting to L.A. and hooked up with some dude down there on the beach. A real romantic type, I’m sure. She didn't even know his name. Hey daddy, if you're reading this, you might want to leave the country.

Two days go by and she’s calling, wanting to talk, it’s obvious she wants to talk to someone, anyone - and doesn’t know anyone else here. Enter Mr. Nice Guy to the rescue. So I take her out for coffee and she’s gobbling down every sweet thing behind the counter. “Cravings, huh?” In two days, it’s obvious she’s already packed on 10lbs. She brings up the subject of abortion, as if looking for an approving nod. I tell her that if she needs help with anything… She’s frantic, scared and so damn young.

Eventually, ill-conceived notions of Christianity take hold and in no time she’s packing her bags to go off and become a statistic. I picked her up at her relatives to give her a lift to LAX, cuz, I’m the nice guy, right? The whole time her aunt and uncle are looking at me like I’m a pedophile. “Can we go now?”

At this moment, she's back in Pennsylvania living with her divorced mother waiting to grow up so she can become a single mom. Thatta girl.

"Date #2 - The Sweet BBW"

I figure, why not. We'd talked a couple of times but it was one of those 2-3 hour deals, you know, where you 'connect'. I'm open-minded so when she says "I'm a big girl..." I'm thinking "Cool, just like a scooter - great fun as long as none of my friends find out." But I should have known it was never going to work, she’s a snorter. Big, huge laughs that always end in deep, rolling snorts. Christ. And she laughs at EVERYTHING, and ends every sentence in “sweetie”. She's throwing a party and insists that I go. I don't know the area but I Mapquest it and make my way there. How bad could it be? Sweetie..?

Since it's a party, I figure it'll be a safe environment. This quickly turns out to be a poor tactical error. There were maybe 25-30 people there and she'd ceremoniously “announced” that her big date from CL was going to show up. My reputation preceded me. The crowd’s friendly enough but everyone’s scoping me out, I feel like a leper at a nude beach. “Lucy” is one of those "I HEART BLUE JELLO" types, all polka-dots an sh** like that - fat, red lips and excessive amounts of bright lipstick – it’s not long before it's half-smeared all over her face and her size 16 rack is pouring out of her size 12 dress. What is that, razor burn? No, I decide later she’d dumped loads of those sparkles all over her ****. The bad complexion, caked makeup and profuse sweating is just.. I need to get the f**k outta there. To make matters worse, she's decided in no time that I'm "the one" and is all over me, the booze she's sucking back makes matters worse - now she’s growing *****.

If I can make my way outside, to mingle, I can plan an escape - time to scope out possible routes. I’m wishing I’d left a trail of breadcrumbs back to my car. There's a group of people in front of the house talking - that seems relatively calm. Maybe I can salvage this evening and hope that if I can stay safe enough, long enough, "lil miss sloppy kisses" will be unconscious soon or latch onto some other manbait.

There’s the hedge wall but it’s too high, the stone fence is low enough, I could just crash through the next yard, make it to the street and ninja my ___ around the block to the car. Need more options.

I'm generally pretty laid back and trying to stay cool, but I’ve run outside like my ___ is on fire but manage to compose myself at the last second. Nice entrance. I'm trying to get on the far side of this group so my back's not facing the door, I need to be on full alert, I’ll just hide behind this big dorky guy with the can of Coors and the Hawaiian shirt. I start up a conversation with this group and suddenly get out'ed.. "You're Chris, huh?" I'm so busted, this is starting to feel like a wedding shower and I'm the last one to know.

From outside, I can hear this loud, billowing laughter in the house, it's f***ing obnoxious. The kind of laugh that makes people pause for a moment and wonder, it’s like that uncomfortable silence when nostrils flare because a fart has been detected. These people are obviously somewhat used to it. I, on the other hand, am scared sh**less.

I'm finishing my beer and now have a decent plan, I got an escape route covered, I check my pockets - got my car keys covered, I'm not sure where I am but it hardly matters - I just need to get away. Too late. The screen door bashes open and out of the house pours Miss Crazy Eyes, tumbling her way out, arms flailing around, her hair is now a huge rat’s nest all matted and sticking out to one side. How can one person make so much noise? It’s like a stun grenade and everyone’s frozen at the calamity. Sweaty, rolling thunder bursts her way through our calm little group - all I can see is lipstick and facial hair.

This girl's arms were easily the size of my legs and she throws them around me and I'm sacked, I don't stand a chance. The empty beer bottle I’m holding goes flying and I now have 280lbs of lustpig on me, laughing and snorting like a drunken banshee. As I’m grasping for air, she’s suddenly reaching down and lifting up her $8 skirt to get at her $2 panties. I can't even breathe, I'm f***ed. Her drunken volume crashing into me was enough to knock the living sh** out of me, I’m blacking out, totally. Why the f**k isn't anyone helping me? In that moment, people in the group started to casually make their way back inside, as if to give us our 'privacy', we’ll just leave the love birds be. All the while I'm trying desperately to fight off big, wet, sloppy beer and Zima kisses. I start to gag, I can't decide what's worse - the stubble or the gawdawful perfume.

My arms are at my sides and I’m pinned, the mass is overwhelming. I'm looking for my 'happy place' and for a moment I suddenly imagine that I'm being ___-raped in prison. That was all the incentive I needed to help me conjure the Herculean strength it took to get out from under the kissy-face monster.

I ran, I ran in every direction. It didn't matter where I was going, I calculated in that moment that as long as I moved, she wouldn't be able to keep up. "Zigzags", I thought, "just like when a 'gator's on yer ___". Suddenly, my cell’s vibrating in my pocket like a crazed snake, I’m just scrambling and clawing at grass to make distance. Run around the block, over hedges, over nicely manicured lawns, desperately looking for my car and my escape.

I come screaming into the first Chevron I see - glowing, greasy salvation in the night. I bust into the place and must have looked like a crazy person, the people in line and the $5 an hour dude behind the counter just stop to look at me, another Kodak Moment. My shirt half ripped, bug-eyed, grass stains all over me and bright red war paint smeared all over my face. Into the bathroom at the back of the store, I rinsed, scraped and wiped off the lipstick, slop and stinky perfume using the bottle of Windex under the sink. I don't think I'll ever get rid of those little f***ing sparkles, though.