Your Pathetic Cries for a True Alpha-Male Have Been Answered - 26 (Seoul)
Date: 2009-12-30, 12:34AM KT
Like a lot of people, I’ve come to Korea for the money. Now, I’m no bum, but reparations, class-action lawsuits, legal fees, and a steady supply of replacement kidneys starts to add up. I needed a little extra cash, so I came here. I would have asked my mom, but I of all people know that asking mother for anything is like asking a favor of the mafia – she’ll never let me forget about it, and my girlfriend is beginning to run out of fingers since I decided to start betting on the Denver Nuggets. My mother still thinks I owe her from the time she was supposed to have triplets and, instead, out I popped fourteen pounds heavier and an only child. What she’s always failed to realize is that instead of paying to raise three kids, she only had to pay for one, which is like a net profit of one kid.
I’ve noticed a lot of gynos post here seeking real he-men. Macho guys. Hard-drinking, hard-fighting, hard-loving man-mountains. Let me tell you, most of those guys are listening to John Mayer and admiring themselves in a full-length mirror wearing lady’s lingerie. I’m the real deal. If you don’t believe it, just let me tell you about the day I had today, starting with the airport:
“Thirteen.” I say to the cute girl at the check-in counter, adding with a wink “Inches, not bags.”
“Sir…you can’t check all these bags.”
“Why not, it says right in you commercial ‘no extra fee for additional bags’. You know, the one where one colored guy is talking to another colored guy about how he needs to get from Chicago to Boston in time to see his colored daughter’s recital? That one.”
“Well, perhaps you don’t need all these bags. Your itinerary says you’ll only be away for a week.”
I clench my jaw and glare. Reflexively, my hand slides down my thigh for the length of pipe I always keep there.
“What’s in all these bags, anyways?” She asks unsteadily.
“Cheese.”
“Cheese?”
“Yeah, you know – cheddar, Swiss, jarlsburg, parmesan. There’s no telling when some god-forsaken savage country won’t have a proper selection of cheese. It’s all I eat.”
As I say this a tooth falls out and bounces across the counter towards her. I pick it up with a tissue and put it in my breast pocket with the others.
“Don’t worry, I’m a fourth of an once under the total weight for it to be subject to import duties. I’ve read my airport policies. Maybe you should, too.”
“Well sir,” She glared with poorly-concealed indignation, “perhaps you could make some space by clearing out some different luggage…”
“Uh uh. Bags nine through eleven have all my glue. With any luck, it should be enough to get me through the safety instructions. Hey, I just realized I said nine-eleven in an airport. Remember 9/11? Huh, remember that, when all those planes got hijacked and all those people died? Wasn’t that totally lame?”
“And the other bags?” She gulps fearfully.
"Mostly hypodermic needles."
“Oh!”
"For my insulin, of course. It’s always important to stay well-insulated up there at 30,000 feet… if…you…know…what…I…mean."
“Yes, of course.” I can hear the plastic of the counter cracking where she is digging her nails into it.
“So, you see, I really need every one of those bags. Of course, if there’s a problem I could always alert your manager to the fact that you’ve addressed me by several racial slurs since we’ve begun this conversation.”
“But that isn’t true!”
“Yeah, but is it worth the hassle?”
“He’d never believe you.”
“Excuse me, sir!” I call to the portly she-male type gaying it up a few feet away. “I want to make a complaint. Your employee has repeatedly referred to me as ‘Shiloc’ and insisted that I should not be taking a flight to Korea, but rather a cattle-car to Auschwitz.”
“Fine!” She hisses, stamping my luggage tags. “Just go away!”
The flight isn’t much better, I’m afraid.
I plug the cheap headphones into the armrest of the seat. The classical station is the only one that plays anything even resembling music. The rest are playing what sounds like a mixture of light rock/smooth jazz/Motown/delta blues/trance. It’s like having the entire cast of a Hair Club for Men commercial urinating in my ear. Partly from boredom, and partly from rage, I decide that the only way to make this flight less boring is to make my own entertainment. Twenty minutes later, I’m reciting my version of the battle of Agincourt to the enthralled passengers.
“Excuse me, sir.” Says one tranny-looking runt from row 11 – I have taught the other passengers to address me as sir or, failing that, Cardinal Vice-Doom. At first they were reluctant, but by now the memory of what happened to the others is still fresh in their minds. “But I was a history major in college and I don’t remember Agincourt being a battle between an army of samurais from the future and a horde of genetically-modified salamander people.”
I nod and say “I understand your concern and appreciate your willingness to speak up” as my finger glides over the button to depressurize the cabin in the vicinity of row 11.
A colon-cramping eight hours later and the plane finally lands. I make sure to shove my way to the front of the aisle to be the first to get off the plane. Overall, it wasn’t a terrible flight, but the re-circulated cigar smoke and glue-fumes has made the cabin feel a little claustrophobic.
I approach the customs officer and give him my heartiest hello. Still, I’m a little nervous – I always am around authority figures, because they’ve never gotten my sense of humor.
“Anything to declare today?” He asks condescendingly.
“Yes. I’ve been taking heroin and shooting little children from the jungle-gym in the park.”
The officer’s face flashes crimson. I slap myself on the forehead and chuckle at my mistake.
"Ahem, sorry. I meant I’ve been shooting heroin and taking little children from the jungle-gym in the park.”
Soon, all sixteen of my bags are lying open on the ground being torn apart by customs agents, who are making a huge deal over every little crossbow bolt and phial of ketamine. Meanwhile, I’m shackled to a chair while the customs officer asks me questions in a never-ending stream of verbal excrement.
“So, I’ve been looking up your file and it seems like you have a pretty lengthy criminal record.” He shrilled petulantly.
“Only a few traffic violations.”
“Really?”
He drops the file on my lap. The legs of the chair bow. I begin leafing through it, trying not to smile at all the fond memories contained therein.
“Why, this must be some other Dermitt McFury! I’ve never even been to half these places. Panama? Sounds like a made-up country to me.”
“I think the most disturbing thing is your many drug violations.”
“Slander! I never touch the stuff!”
“It says here you’ve been arrested 26 times on drug charges.”
“You misunderstand. They say ‘drug charges’ because I drug the kids from the sandbox to my van.”
“Either way, we’ll have to detain you… indefinitely.”
Suddenly, I turn to the page detailing my escapades in Kuala Lampur (spring break 03’). Suddenly reminded of what to do in these types of situations (arrested in a third-world country), I narrow my eyes at the customs officer and smile. He’s Korean, so his eyes are already narrowed, though I’m sure he reciprocates the gesture.
“Isn’t there just a fine I could pay… like, maybe right now? No use wasting our precious time with paperwork.”
The cop looks at me with understanding and we start talking business.
The last step is to get tested at the hospital. I hate hospitals. They’re full of sick people, and sick people are bad at two things: producing white blood cells, and staying out of my way. After what seemed like an eternity of shouting and shoving and hostage-taking, I’m finally face-to-face with the doctor, a short, tidy, hermaphroditic-looking Korean. He plunges the syringe into my arm and begins drawing blood.
“Hey, who put all that blood in my scotch!” I shout in horror.
Again, he is not amused. Authority figures – whether they’re cops, doctors, parole officers, or high-school teachers whose coffee you’ve been secretly urinating in for the last ten years – never know a good joke when they hear it. It’s like being a humorless cadaver is one of the job requirements.
So, the doctor comes back a little while later with a blustering red face. His hands are trembling a little. He’s brought two burly orderlies with him who have syringes full of, by the smell of it, sedatives.
“Mr. McFury,” The dykey doctor stutters, “you have every sexually transmitted disease known to science, and a few postulated to exist only in species of tropical fish.”
I wonder if this is a good time to bring up the fact I was just fired from the aquarium. I decide against it.
“Additionally, you appear to be stealing prescription pads from my desk drawer as I’m talking to you.”
“Go ahead,” I shout, “sic your goons on me. I guarantee you, whatever sedatives they have in those needles, I’ve got twice the amount of amphetamines in me to stay alert and fighting.”
“No, Mr. McFury, you misunderstand. These shots are for me. In the five minutes since meeting you, I have caught several of your communicable diseases. I’d put you in the ER, but I doubt you’d survive the trip across the hospital.”
“So, does that mean I can go?”
The doctor sits down and wrings his hand. An orderly gives him a jab of sedatives while he fumbles in his desk drawer for a bottle of Vodka.
“Yes…sure…whatever. I don’t care anymore. I can’t… can’t feel anything.”
Twelve hours, five murders, and two suicides later I’m finally in Korea. Now, you may be wondering what I gave the customs officer in exchange for my freedom. I gave him my cheese. My goddamn cheese, every last scrap except the emergency chunk of pepper-jack hidden in my rectal cavity (they never check there thoroughly enough). So, I’m pissed off and ornery and in dairy withdrawal – a perfect time for you to get an epic bang. So, if you want a real man capable of real cocksmanship, hit me up.
* Location: Seoul
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1528830177
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
So This is the Post That Got Me Banned From Craigslist in Korea...
Come to Me Prince of the High Heavens! - 26 (Here)
Date: 2009-12-22, 1:47PM KT
So, I’ve been up for three days and now find myself typing this message, not wholly of my own volition. I suppose I’m lonely and could use somebody to be with me… after all, that’s why I started this whole thing, so I could finally meet a man. It wasn’t even the money. The money is nice, don’t get me wrong, but I really just wanted to get noticed, to be looked at with the same kind of lust I saw guys looking at the pretty girls in bars with.
I have a lot of free times on my hands since I don’t work. Okay, I DO work, but not what you would call a traditional job. I’m a test subject for Pfizer. I make about five-hundred dollars a week taking their new, experimental diet drug Dioxymorphil. Dioximorphil. It’s funny when you say it out loud. Dio. Spanish for God. Morph. Means change. Change. Have I changed into a god, or is this just one of those coincidences? I’ve been noticing a lot of coincidences lately.
“Looking for women, age eighteen to thirty-two, twenty to forty lbs overweight, for clinical test study”. That’s what the ad said. 500 bucks a month, nothing to sneeze at. I don’t sneeze anymore, by the way. I’ve just noticed that. My sneezes have gone the way of my ability to feel cold or have my period. I am no longer in possession of such human frailties. I’m becoming…something more.
The weight has just melted off since I’ve started the Dioxymorphil. I’m thin now, but strong. Just yesterday I slipped on a patch of ice and caught myself on an iron railing. When I looked I saw my hand had crushed the railing. And it isn’t just my body, either. If I stare, long and intensely, at anything it will, in time, smolder and burst into flames.
I see now that I am Tiamat.
I need a man to be my Apsu. All the world is my womb, and my oceans but amniotic seas. I am the womb of monsters, which shall crawl from all my dark places and abyssal seas to dart and gambol upon my body, to suckle upon the teats of nature from which flows my everlasting life. I need my Apsu. I need to open my earth-womb to you of the sky, and from that congress there shall be born Marduk, child of both earth and sky, champion, usurper, destined to wage battle upon me and slay my children and break my body into the firmament beneath your feet and foam lapping upon your mortal shores. It is a sacrifice I am willing to endure, for it is my destiny to be made into this new world, to have my flesh rendered clay to sculpt a new age of sky, sea, and earth.
Damn. Lost another tooth. Need more Dioxymorphil. Why won’t Pfizer call back? Is it because of the fire? It wasn’t my fault. That man shouldn’t have talked to me that way, shouldn’t have been so rude… ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudddddde. That’s no way to treat one’s mother.
Come to me, my sky-clad all-father! My womb awaits your princely seed and the son who shall overthrow us! Help me set the cosmic order straight! Dioxymorphil!
Where Did That Post Go?
Recently, guest contributor and friend of the blog Exploder did a post which you may have discovered has mysteriously disappeared. The victim of the post found out about the blog and asked that the post be removed, as she believed it contained too much personal information which could be used to identify her. While I make every effort to protect the identities of our victims, some details are too important to leave out and still retain the integrity of the post. So, in keeping with the wishes of the young lady, I have removed the post.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Can Anyone Alleviate This Loneliness?
Can Anyone Alleviate This Loneliness? (Seoul)
Date: 2009-12-14, 11:19PM KT
Is there any way to alleviate this ache in my heart, one that longs for the company of a true friend? Too many times I have stared into the faces around me and seen mirth, astonishment, disgust, and fear. I wish for someone with whom I can feel comfortable and, in turn, will feel comfortable with me. It is to that end that I am reaching out here, hoping against all odds that there is someone out there with whom I can forge a real friendship. If all of this seems a little melodramatic, allow me to explain the circumstances which have brought about in me this terrible ennui.
My story begins many years ago… how many, I’m not entirely sure. There are large gaps in my recollection due to not always having been as keenly self-aware as the being you see before you today. I remember a tranquil and joyous childhood, roughhousing with my brothers and sisters, gamboling in the high grasses, and swinging from branch to branch before my weight became too great to allow for such endeavors. I remember one day lolling about the foliage at the riverside when I was approached by a creature I had never seen before. It was tall, nearly hairless, and carried about it all manner of implements my young mind could not comprehend. It seemed a friendly enough fellow, however, so I approached it with the uninhibited curiosity of youth. It held out its paw to me and said:
“Candy”
Timidly I snatched the colorful bauble from the creature’s hand and retreated to a safe distance to devour it. It was sweet – sweeter, in fact, than even the mangoes my older brothers shook from the tress after the monsoon rains. I approached the creature again, and again it held out the treat, repeating “Candy”.
This time, however, when I went for the sweet delicacy the man-creature withdrew its hand and repeated, with a tone of encouragement: “Candy”.
“Can-de” I mumbled back. I still don’t know why I said that. Perhaps I knew by some long-forgotten instinct that my asking is what the man wanted of me, and that he would surrender the prize if only I pleased him. The man did seem pleased, as well as astonished. Hurriedly he dug in his outer-skin and produced another shiny bauble which I hastily devoured. This bauble, I found, was quite different. Within moments my eyelids were drooping and I was drifting away into a slumber deeper than the waters of the Lethe!
When I awoke, I was rocking and bobbing quite uncomfortably in the hull of a ship. My captor introduced himself as Lord William MCaulley, chief primatologist of the London Academy of Natural Science.
The sea voyage was long and arduous, though I was never bored. In fact, Lord MCaulley spent every waking moment at my side, and I learned that by repeating what he said I would be rewarded with toys and sundry delicacies. Soon, I knew that if I were thirsty I should say “wah-ta”, and if hungry I should say “fud” and so forth. By the time I was taken to the cellar of his London study, I already had the vocabulary of a three-year-old child, thanks in no small part to Lord MCaulley’s erudition in the study of linguistics.
Those were my halcyon days, I believe. Though I missed my ancestral home, everything was so new, so fascinating, that I could not tear myself away from my studies. I was learning not just language, but reason as well – with every new word, a nascent mental concept was ascending into existence, and soon I found myself becoming aware of the reason for things, the scope of the world, and my own identity, things that I never could have pondered back in the cloud-wreathed jungles of my past.
Reading and writing were made available to me. Three years after my abduction I was reading The Times and discussing the latest cricket matches with my friend and mentor. It was on one such fateful day he said: “you are ready”.
The next day I was greeted by three men, all venerable in age and status, who came to stare at me from the other side of the iron bars.
“Hello.” I said. “My name is William Jr. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And you.” Said one of the men, clearly taken aback. “Tell me, what color is a tabby-cat.”
“Why orange, sir.”
“And who is the King?” another one of the men put to me.
“Edward, sir, long life to him.”
And so the questions came for hours until finally the old gentlemen unruffled their coats and turned to my mentor, saying:
“Really William, this…thing you have here is no more than a clever beast. I could have taught a parrot to mimic human speech as well as you have this brute.” said one.
“This is a disgrace to the Academy of Natural Science, and you can be assured your post will come under review for it!” bellowed another.
“Put it in a sideshow and don’t trouble us with these parlor acts anymore!”
And with that they were gone, leaving my mentor speechless.
My friend and teacher took the man’s advice, if only to create publicity. He had tried to appeal to his peers and, failing that, decided to appeal to the masses instead. I hesitate to speak about this period of my life, for the humiliations were many. Every week my cage was unloaded onto the docks to be gawked at, mocked, and abused by throngs of common stevedores and fishmongers. The ruse worked well enough. Within a few months I was in the papers, and the Academy was forced by public opinion to review my legitimacy once more. Fortunately, Lord MCaulley had prepared me for this trial, and I was easily able to dazzle them with eloquent soliloquies from Marlowe; rhetoric from Aristotle; and the rapier wit of Wilde.
I became the toast of the town, the darling of London society. Especially, they all seemed amused at putting me in improbable situations, such as thronging around me with adoring inquiries as I struggled with tripping over my new coat-tails or keeping my head straight after drinking champagne. I was shaved, perfumed, and dressed in the latest fashions, as if such superficial changes could bring me closer to them, to whom I would always be a novelty.
As such, I am in search of woman to help me bear this loneliness. I am now a quite seasoned silverback, and would like a woman who is herself still of reproductive age. I’ve tried, when visiting society friends’ various private menageries, connecting with others of my kind held there in captivity, but it is of no use. They are every bit as dim-witted and unaware as I once was. The females ignore my ardent advances, and the silverbacks simply beat their chests and gnash their teeth at me menacingly. I am, sadly, a child of two worlds, understood or accepted by neither. Can you help me? Can you give me the peace that has eluded me since those carefree days clamoring up vines and tumbling down moss-covered hillsides? I’d prefer a hirsute woman with a stooped posture, sagital crest, and post-orbital ridges, though I promise I am not fickle about appearances. Hit me up!
PostingID: 1509260118
My story begins many years ago… how many, I’m not entirely sure. There are large gaps in my recollection due to not always having been as keenly self-aware as the being you see before you today. I remember a tranquil and joyous childhood, roughhousing with my brothers and sisters, gamboling in the high grasses, and swinging from branch to branch before my weight became too great to allow for such endeavors. I remember one day lolling about the foliage at the riverside when I was approached by a creature I had never seen before. It was tall, nearly hairless, and carried about it all manner of implements my young mind could not comprehend. It seemed a friendly enough fellow, however, so I approached it with the uninhibited curiosity of youth. It held out its paw to me and said:
“Candy”
Timidly I snatched the colorful bauble from the creature’s hand and retreated to a safe distance to devour it. It was sweet – sweeter, in fact, than even the mangoes my older brothers shook from the tress after the monsoon rains. I approached the creature again, and again it held out the treat, repeating “Candy”.
This time, however, when I went for the sweet delicacy the man-creature withdrew its hand and repeated, with a tone of encouragement: “Candy”.
“Can-de” I mumbled back. I still don’t know why I said that. Perhaps I knew by some long-forgotten instinct that my asking is what the man wanted of me, and that he would surrender the prize if only I pleased him. The man did seem pleased, as well as astonished. Hurriedly he dug in his outer-skin and produced another shiny bauble which I hastily devoured. This bauble, I found, was quite different. Within moments my eyelids were drooping and I was drifting away into a slumber deeper than the waters of the Lethe!
When I awoke, I was rocking and bobbing quite uncomfortably in the hull of a ship. My captor introduced himself as Lord William MCaulley, chief primatologist of the London Academy of Natural Science.
The sea voyage was long and arduous, though I was never bored. In fact, Lord MCaulley spent every waking moment at my side, and I learned that by repeating what he said I would be rewarded with toys and sundry delicacies. Soon, I knew that if I were thirsty I should say “wah-ta”, and if hungry I should say “fud” and so forth. By the time I was taken to the cellar of his London study, I already had the vocabulary of a three-year-old child, thanks in no small part to Lord MCaulley’s erudition in the study of linguistics.
Those were my halcyon days, I believe. Though I missed my ancestral home, everything was so new, so fascinating, that I could not tear myself away from my studies. I was learning not just language, but reason as well – with every new word, a nascent mental concept was ascending into existence, and soon I found myself becoming aware of the reason for things, the scope of the world, and my own identity, things that I never could have pondered back in the cloud-wreathed jungles of my past.
Reading and writing were made available to me. Three years after my abduction I was reading The Times and discussing the latest cricket matches with my friend and mentor. It was on one such fateful day he said: “you are ready”.
The next day I was greeted by three men, all venerable in age and status, who came to stare at me from the other side of the iron bars.
“Hello.” I said. “My name is William Jr. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And you.” Said one of the men, clearly taken aback. “Tell me, what color is a tabby-cat.”
“Why orange, sir.”
“And who is the King?” another one of the men put to me.
“Edward, sir, long life to him.”
And so the questions came for hours until finally the old gentlemen unruffled their coats and turned to my mentor, saying:
“Really William, this…thing you have here is no more than a clever beast. I could have taught a parrot to mimic human speech as well as you have this brute.” said one.
“This is a disgrace to the Academy of Natural Science, and you can be assured your post will come under review for it!” bellowed another.
“Put it in a sideshow and don’t trouble us with these parlor acts anymore!”
And with that they were gone, leaving my mentor speechless.
My friend and teacher took the man’s advice, if only to create publicity. He had tried to appeal to his peers and, failing that, decided to appeal to the masses instead. I hesitate to speak about this period of my life, for the humiliations were many. Every week my cage was unloaded onto the docks to be gawked at, mocked, and abused by throngs of common stevedores and fishmongers. The ruse worked well enough. Within a few months I was in the papers, and the Academy was forced by public opinion to review my legitimacy once more. Fortunately, Lord MCaulley had prepared me for this trial, and I was easily able to dazzle them with eloquent soliloquies from Marlowe; rhetoric from Aristotle; and the rapier wit of Wilde.
I became the toast of the town, the darling of London society. Especially, they all seemed amused at putting me in improbable situations, such as thronging around me with adoring inquiries as I struggled with tripping over my new coat-tails or keeping my head straight after drinking champagne. I was shaved, perfumed, and dressed in the latest fashions, as if such superficial changes could bring me closer to them, to whom I would always be a novelty.
As such, I am in search of woman to help me bear this loneliness. I am now a quite seasoned silverback, and would like a woman who is herself still of reproductive age. I’ve tried, when visiting society friends’ various private menageries, connecting with others of my kind held there in captivity, but it is of no use. They are every bit as dim-witted and unaware as I once was. The females ignore my ardent advances, and the silverbacks simply beat their chests and gnash their teeth at me menacingly. I am, sadly, a child of two worlds, understood or accepted by neither. Can you help me? Can you give me the peace that has eluded me since those carefree days clamoring up vines and tumbling down moss-covered hillsides? I’d prefer a hirsute woman with a stooped posture, sagital crest, and post-orbital ridges, though I promise I am not fickle about appearances. Hit me up!
- Location: Seoul
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Friday, December 4, 2009
Normal Guy Searching for a Good Woman
Normal Guy Searching for a Good Woman - 26 (Seoul)
Date: 2009-12-05, 2:55AM KT
Hi girls! I’ve never done this sort of thing before so… where to begin? I guess I could say I’m a pretty normal guy. I like sports, drinking beer, reading the occasional book, and good conversation. The latter, especially, is really important to me – no more boring girls, not at my age, not at this point in my life!
Physically, I’d describe myself as pretty average. I’m about 5’10”, 175 lbs, black hair. I try to dress well, though sometimes time and circumstances means I have to be a jeans-and-t-shirt kinda guy for the day. I really…really…arrrrgghhhhh
[Thank God I was able to break through! Please, ladies, don’t listen to him! He already has two women in the crawlspace. I couldn’t live with myself if he found a third. No, not yet! I…won’t… let… you win! Dr. Friedman, where are you? We need more of the serum. You’d know how to fix this. What should I…no…no…not yet!]
Ahem. Sorry about that. As I was saying, I really enjoy a laid-back time. Cuddling up on the couch, watching movies – I’m not really a bar/club/party guy. That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fu –
[Please, listen! I can’t control him much longer! For your safety, you must stay away! Kill me if you must… I’d rather die and take him with me than see him hurt another person -]
- Fool! How dare you! Dr. Friedman can’t help you anymore… I saw to that. I was always the stronger one! Now it is you who shall be doomed to exile in the limbo of my subconscious!
(Hello…? What’s all that noise? Are you fighting again, mommy and daddy?)
Oh great, you woke the kid up. And we’re not you’re mommy and daddy, dummy. They died fifteen years ago - or don’t you remember the fire?
[You can’t talk to him that way!]
(Mommy, daddy, please don’t fight! I’ll be good, I promise! Just don’t put me in the punishment box again… it’s so dark… in the punishment box…)
{CHOOOOOOOOCOLATE! ME WANT CHOOOOOOOOOCOLATE!}
Dammit, not this guy again.
[Dammit, not this guy again.]
{ME WANT CHOOOOOOOOOCOLATE! NOW NOW NOW!}
[You’ve left me no choice. I must destroy you…all of you - even if it means destroying myself.]
Hah! I’d like to see you try… wait, what are you doing? Stop that! Get our hand away from that knife! I said stop!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sorry about that ladies. Noisy…neighbors. Anyways, if any of you are interested in a chill date with a down-to-earth guy, just hit me up!
Location: Seoul
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1494769805
Physically, I’d describe myself as pretty average. I’m about 5’10”, 175 lbs, black hair. I try to dress well, though sometimes time and circumstances means I have to be a jeans-and-t-shirt kinda guy for the day. I really…really…arrrrgghhhhh
[Thank God I was able to break through! Please, ladies, don’t listen to him! He already has two women in the crawlspace. I couldn’t live with myself if he found a third. No, not yet! I…won’t… let… you win! Dr. Friedman, where are you? We need more of the serum. You’d know how to fix this. What should I…no…no…not yet!]
Ahem. Sorry about that. As I was saying, I really enjoy a laid-back time. Cuddling up on the couch, watching movies – I’m not really a bar/club/party guy. That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fu –
[Please, listen! I can’t control him much longer! For your safety, you must stay away! Kill me if you must… I’d rather die and take him with me than see him hurt another person -]
- Fool! How dare you! Dr. Friedman can’t help you anymore… I saw to that. I was always the stronger one! Now it is you who shall be doomed to exile in the limbo of my subconscious!
(Hello…? What’s all that noise? Are you fighting again, mommy and daddy?)
Oh great, you woke the kid up. And we’re not you’re mommy and daddy, dummy. They died fifteen years ago - or don’t you remember the fire?
[You can’t talk to him that way!]
(Mommy, daddy, please don’t fight! I’ll be good, I promise! Just don’t put me in the punishment box again… it’s so dark… in the punishment box…)
{CHOOOOOOOOCOLATE! ME WANT CHOOOOOOOOOCOLATE!}
Dammit, not this guy again.
[Dammit, not this guy again.]
{ME WANT CHOOOOOOOOOCOLATE! NOW NOW NOW!}
[You’ve left me no choice. I must destroy you…all of you - even if it means destroying myself.]
Hah! I’d like to see you try… wait, what are you doing? Stop that! Get our hand away from that knife! I said stop!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sorry about that ladies. Noisy…neighbors. Anyways, if any of you are interested in a chill date with a down-to-earth guy, just hit me up!
Location: Seoul
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Monday, November 30, 2009
RE: Smart, Cool, Funny, Stylish, Sophisticated NYer 4 You!!!!!
Smart, Cool, Funny, Stylish, Sophisticated NYer 4 You !!!!! - 31 (NOT SEOUL --BUSAN )
Date: 2009-11-30, 7:46PM KT
I just turned 31, and I have gotten a lot of replies to my last ad. I feel like it is a really possible that someone good could come from this website. All of the replies I've gotten are from women not in Busan. So that's the only catch. Let me make it crystal clear that I will not travel outside Busan and I'm really not interested in traveling far within Busan too. SO if YOU want to travel to me, I'm cool with that, but not for some one day a week type of thing, that's not a real relationship.
In America, craigslist is for psychos but maybe in Korea......maybe there's a chance at quality love here.
A personal ad is no place for modesty, so don't expect to find any of that below:
I came to Korea for Love & Money. I have the money, and a great apartment with panoramic views of the ocean....an ideal job...now I just need a great quality lover. I am a professional chef, I can cook Mexican, Indian, Thai, Italian, American, Korean, Chinese...really anything...and better than a restaurant. So each night I eat amazing food, alone. I keep my house clean.
I expect a professional, intelligent, MATURE, funny, beautiful, thin, stylish, sexy, cool young woman. This is what I deserve and this is what I demand. Someone like me, knows themselves very well. I know exactly what I like and what I need. I know exactly how to love and how to be generous and supportive and romantic. I make a great lover. I won't settle for mediocrity and I won't settle for bad company. Life is too short. No company is always better than bad company or even enduring the mundane.
I was a professional artist for quite a few years in NY. I lived in NY my whole life and in Korea for about a year and a half now.
I'm a Scorpio, with Scorpio rising as well....... I'm deep......sensual.....passionate..... and also funny.
I'm ready, if you dare.
| show details 6:23 AM (17 hours ago) |
Hey there, I’m a Boston girl, and I want to say YANKEES SUCK!
Really, you’re from New York? New York is whacked. I got an uncle from New York and he’s mad queer, was always touchin on my younga brother, askin us if we wanted to go get frappes an tonics down in Scollay Square. Wicked stupid, right? You remind me of him. I bet you’re queer for Jeter.
All I hear is blah blah blah “fine cooking” blah blah blah “art”. If you want real cooking get your New York ass down to Eastie an’ get yourself some scrod. You want real art, you should watch the fuckin Sox, or the Patsies, or the Seltz. All our teams fuckin rule your retarded New York teams. I know the Yankees got lucky this year, but next year Ortiz is gonna have a healthy knee and he’ll go yard all over you New York queers.
SOX RULE!
RE: Unboring Hangout Friends First
Unboring Hangout Friends First (Seoul)
Date: 2009-11-30, 12:36PM KT
Essentials:
Be attractive. Know how to dress with a sense of style- no need to wear Helmut Lang if you know what I mean. But if you do possess one of his write me. Be located in Seoul, preferably above the river. The season's arrived. Be comfortable with hanging out at upscale places now and then. I am cute and petite, so don't be fat. Don't be smaller than 5'9 or taller than 6'1 either.
Considerations:
Have a style and don't say you enjoy going to the museums here. Good command of written language. Extremely well-educated guys whose intellects also allow them poignantly aware that being smart doesn't necessarily get them very far, and many times left feeling empty, baffled and dumb. Old-fashioned decency, manners and compassion- a huge plus point.
I am not interested in what you do as much as how you look. When you reply please send me a pic along with your answers on the essential requirements.
Sir,
So you are basically what.. a prince or something? Don't you think you play video games too much?
I am willing to be acquainted with a deliciously delusional person, so let me know where your highness resides and how he looks like in layman's terms and modern tools.
I am Korean, not as feisty as my post might sound. Though I am not going to take my superficiality label back, so suit yourself.
A prince? My, my, no dear lady - any title of "prince" I may possess is simply honorary, such as has been bestowed upon me by the Raj of Hindu Kush and Sultan of Songhai.
No, I am just a common man. My father was a wealthy New England rubber magnate and my mother a Spanish wet nurse. Like most children, I spent my childhood between society galas in the New World and caravan crossings in French Algeria.
I must say, I have mixed feelings about your ethnic... dilemma. You see, as the scion and sole remaining heir of the Blackwater estate it is expected of me that I marry among my own kind, the blue-blooded families of New England. That isn't just an expression, by the way: open my veins and you'll see my blood is indeed blue, a sign of true breeding! My father, however, broke from this tradition when he married my mother, in secret, one thundering night on the Spanish Isle of San Cristobal. So, while I am loathe to further dilute my bloodline, I do have my father's legacy to live up to.
You want to know my physiognomy, you say? Well, I have a broad, strong chest due to countless hours of Tropian Island honor-grappling, lean, muscular legs from sundry excursions up ice-clothed peaks, and a chiseled, jutting jaw - a hallmark, if you care to see the Blackwater family portraits, of my distinguished lineage.
Shallow? You believe I think you shallow? Nothing could be further from the truth! As my childhood tutor, Hanno of Alexandria, once instructed me, beauty brings us closer to god (in his case, the Hellenic god Aesclepius, that serpent-bodied trickster my master revered with such fervor!). I assume a woman who appreciates beauty, or as you put it, "only cares about how you look", has a rich and fulfilling intellectual life. I myself can have quite the critical eye - why, just the other day I was entertaining the Baroness of Saxony and noticed a patch of dry skin beneath her left ear, no doubt the product of her ancestor's dalliances with those dubious Hapsburgs!
Be attractive. Know how to dress with a sense of style- no need to wear Helmut Lang if you know what I mean. But if you do possess one of his write me. Be located in Seoul, preferably above the river. The season's arrived. Be comfortable with hanging out at upscale places now and then. I am cute and petite, so don't be fat. Don't be smaller than 5'9 or taller than 6'1 either.
Considerations:
Have a style and don't say you enjoy going to the museums here. Good command of written language. Extremely well-educated guys whose intellects also allow them poignantly aware that being smart doesn't necessarily get them very far, and many times left feeling empty, baffled and dumb. Old-fashioned decency, manners and compassion- a huge plus point.
I am not interested in what you do as much as how you look. When you reply please send me a pic along with your answers on the essential requirements.
- Location: Seoul
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I Am A Man of no Modest Aplomb
Anton Kimble Blackwater, at your service! I am writing in response to your personal ad to express my relief at finally finding a lady of refinement who has not been already betrothed!
Who am I, you ask? I have so many epitaphs: the Jali tribe of Papua-New Guinea calls me korno baba, meaning “white poet-king” in their moribund tongue; the tabloids call me “The Godfather of Gauche”, referring to my extensive wardrobe and sundry collection of priceless adornments; and the Zurich chapter of the Bilderberg Group calls me its most important member! (that last one was written by man-servant Mandalay who, against my wishes, is attempting to pursue a career in comedy) You, however, can simply call me Anton: tomb-hunter, gamesman, adventurer, and gentleman explorer.
There is one aspect of your posting that raises some alarm, however – your inferred appreciation of Helmut Lang. The whole affair sounds so… noveau riche. Are you simply sowing your oats with the lower classes as I once did as a disaffected youth in the bazaars and opium-parlors of Marrakesh? For, you see, I would never be associated with such rubbish. My suits are made only by the skilled hands of a 119-year-old Genoese friar, and only from the most supple fur of the yellow panda.
What’s that? You say there is no such thing as a yellow panda? Bah! You are only displaying your own ignorance! Clearly you have never studied cryptozoology or attended Thelemic occult rituals in the ossuary of a Hungarian castle. Remove yourself from my sight, you common urchin, lest I command man-servant Mandalay to do it for you!
I’m sorry I was uncourtly there for a moment. I am simply so… on edge. You see, lately my half-brother Cecil - damn him for the illegitimate half-Creole he is! – has been increasing his attempts to purloin me of our father’s inheritance. I can sense him every night, hovering in his dirigible just outside my bedchamber window, pulling on his moustache as he conjures diabolical plots.
My time may be short. Reply to me… make haste! I can hear the ivory tip of Cecil’s cane tapping along the marble floors of Blackwater Manor as we speak!
| show details 6:13 AM (17 hours ago) |
So you are basically what.. a prince or something? Don't you think you play video games too much?
I am willing to be acquainted with a deliciously delusional person, so let me know where your highness resides and how he looks like in layman's terms and modern tools.
I am Korean, not as feisty as my post might sound. Though I am not going to take my superficiality label back, so suit yourself.
| show details 6:58 AM (17 hours ago) |
A prince? My, my, no dear lady - any title of "prince" I may possess is simply honorary, such as has been bestowed upon me by the Raj of Hindu Kush and Sultan of Songhai.
No, I am just a common man. My father was a wealthy New England rubber magnate and my mother a Spanish wet nurse. Like most children, I spent my childhood between society galas in the New World and caravan crossings in French Algeria.
I must say, I have mixed feelings about your ethnic... dilemma. You see, as the scion and sole remaining heir of the Blackwater estate it is expected of me that I marry among my own kind, the blue-blooded families of New England. That isn't just an expression, by the way: open my veins and you'll see my blood is indeed blue, a sign of true breeding! My father, however, broke from this tradition when he married my mother, in secret, one thundering night on the Spanish Isle of San Cristobal. So, while I am loathe to further dilute my bloodline, I do have my father's legacy to live up to.
You want to know my physiognomy, you say? Well, I have a broad, strong chest due to countless hours of Tropian Island honor-grappling, lean, muscular legs from sundry excursions up ice-clothed peaks, and a chiseled, jutting jaw - a hallmark, if you care to see the Blackwater family portraits, of my distinguished lineage.
Shallow? You believe I think you shallow? Nothing could be further from the truth! As my childhood tutor, Hanno of Alexandria, once instructed me, beauty brings us closer to god (in his case, the Hellenic god Aesclepius, that serpent-bodied trickster my master revered with such fervor!). I assume a woman who appreciates beauty, or as you put it, "only cares about how you look", has a rich and fulfilling intellectual life. I myself can have quite the critical eye - why, just the other day I was entertaining the Baroness of Saxony and noticed a patch of dry skin beneath her left ear, no doubt the product of her ancestor's dalliances with those dubious Hapsburgs!
Looking For Love
Looking For Love - 26 (Seoul)
So, It's been awhile since my last break-up and, on the advice of my therapist, I should "put myself out there". I guess that's what $40 an hour gets me - nothing a few reruns of Dr. Phil couldn't tell me.
Anyways, I really want love, though I'm really not sure how to go about getting it. I recently got out of a long relationship and I suppose you can say it left me a little bitter. Or, if you are my therapist you DO say that, and I just nod my head like a cirus seal... anything to keep the pills coming.
I guess I don't have a very high opinion of love. It just seems so overrated. I mean sure, all the cuddling and sex and affection is nice while it lasts, which it won't, because I don't deserve to be happy and even if I did, someone or something always sabotages it - whether it's the girl with the low tank top I looked at FOR LIKE HALF A SECOND or game seven of the NBA Finals just happening to fall on our anniversary. I've learned that love usually involves a lot of crying and throwing away your future to move to Columbus to raise some kid that isn't even yours that she got during the two months you were broken up and she went to go "find herself" in Spain even though you had to stay behind to make the rent since you had a year-long lease on the apartment and both of you were too stubborn to move out then she comes back and wants to go into couple's therapy but your insurance doesn't cover it so does she get a job? Nooooooooooooo, of course not, because you're nothing but a doormat with a cash-withdrawl button. Fucking bitch. What were we talking about?
Location: Seoul
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interestsPostingID: 1487697243
So, It's been awhile since my last break-up and, on the advice of my therapist, I should "put myself out there". I guess that's what $40 an hour gets me - nothing a few reruns of Dr. Phil couldn't tell me.
Anyways, I really want love, though I'm really not sure how to go about getting it. I recently got out of a long relationship and I suppose you can say it left me a little bitter. Or, if you are my therapist you DO say that, and I just nod my head like a cirus seal... anything to keep the pills coming.
I guess I don't have a very high opinion of love. It just seems so overrated. I mean sure, all the cuddling and sex and affection is nice while it lasts, which it won't, because I don't deserve to be happy and even if I did, someone or something always sabotages it - whether it's the girl with the low tank top I looked at FOR LIKE HALF A SECOND or game seven of the NBA Finals just happening to fall on our anniversary. I've learned that love usually involves a lot of crying and throwing away your future to move to Columbus to raise some kid that isn't even yours that she got during the two months you were broken up and she went to go "find herself" in Spain even though you had to stay behind to make the rent since you had a year-long lease on the apartment and both of you were too stubborn to move out then she comes back and wants to go into couple's therapy but your insurance doesn't cover it so does she get a job? Nooooooooooooo, of course not, because you're nothing but a doormat with a cash-withdrawl button. Fucking bitch. What were we talking about?
Location: Seoul
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interestsPostingID: 1487697243
Epic Date Fail Has Returned!
For all you fans out there, Epic Date fail is back online after a long hiatus. I apologize for the delay, but I have been so busy doing interesting/sexy/heroic things I haven't had the time to work on this... monstrosity. So, take the guns out of your mouths and take the toasters off the ledges of your bathtubs, because we're back. I can't promise the same output as months past, but I will try to keep you, my loyal fan(s?) in failure. Also, if you want to keep me productive, then become a follower, or leave comments. Is that a threat? Yes, yes is it. Do those things or I will come to your house and cudgel you with a sock full of nickles.
- The Omega Man
- The Omega Man
Friday, May 15, 2009
Any Young Women Like Nature and Overthrowing the Federal Government?
Any Young Women Like Nature and overthrowing the Federal Government? - 25 ((hiding))
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Reply to: pers-gc2gu-1172845983@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-05-15, 3:26PM MDT
Okay, I'll admit it - maybe cloistering myself in a shack with no running water deep in the Idaho countryside wasn't the best thing for my social life. But when you're tormented by Ted Chambers and his army of totalitarian cronies, you just can't be too close to all the surveillance, the cameras, the wiretaps the... satellites... always watching... the satellites.
So, I'm taking a big risk here, but I'm reaching out, hoping to find a girl who will aid me in my vision of a world freed from the maw of totalitarian big government gangsters like Ted Chambers. I enjoy camping, fishing, working on my 14,000 page anti-government manifesto, mailing threatening letters to major media outlets, and a quiet night indoors. My place is pretty modest, but comfortable. Not as comfortable as the 12,000 square foot house I used to own, the same house City Councilman Chambers told me was three feet taller than the zoning code. IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE NO MORE THAN 65 FEET FROM THE GROUND, NOT THE FOUNDATION!!!! NOT THE FOUNDATION, YOU BLOATED NAZI AUTOCRAT!!!! Of course, since being fired from Lockhead-Martin last fall, I can't really afford better, but I get by. All I really need is few bags of beans from the general store, reams of paper, and ammunition for the inevitable day when the federal government gestapo comes to silence me for speaking out against their one-world new world order agenda. Point is, I can't afford to take you out a lot.
What was that? Are they here? Have they come to get me? No. No. It was just a squirrel.
Ted Chambers has done everything in his power to shut me up, from that bogus restraining order, to the trumped-up charges of "attempting to start a secessionist citizen militia group". He even got me fired from my job, for allegedly using my workstation to send "threatening, harassing, and inflammatory emails". So, what could I do? I cashed in my 401, converted it to gold (I don't trust money since Nixon/Greenspan took us off the gold standard. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY THE ECONOMY IS HURTING, LOOK NO FURTHER THAN THE ADOPTION OF FIAT MONEY BY FEUDAL WALL STREET BARONS AND THEIR SNIVELING LAPDOGS IN CONGRESS!!!) and devoted myself entirely to falling off the grid and fighting the federal government and all the Ted Chambers in the world. All I'm looking for is the same in a woman.
Jesus. I heard something. Is that them? Has the day of my prophesying come... no. False alarm. Just the wind. Just a lonely, lonely wind.
Location: (hiding)
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1172845983
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-gc2gu-1172845983@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-05-15, 3:26PM MDT
Okay, I'll admit it - maybe cloistering myself in a shack with no running water deep in the Idaho countryside wasn't the best thing for my social life. But when you're tormented by Ted Chambers and his army of totalitarian cronies, you just can't be too close to all the surveillance, the cameras, the wiretaps the... satellites... always watching... the satellites.
So, I'm taking a big risk here, but I'm reaching out, hoping to find a girl who will aid me in my vision of a world freed from the maw of totalitarian big government gangsters like Ted Chambers. I enjoy camping, fishing, working on my 14,000 page anti-government manifesto, mailing threatening letters to major media outlets, and a quiet night indoors. My place is pretty modest, but comfortable. Not as comfortable as the 12,000 square foot house I used to own, the same house City Councilman Chambers told me was three feet taller than the zoning code. IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE NO MORE THAN 65 FEET FROM THE GROUND, NOT THE FOUNDATION!!!! NOT THE FOUNDATION, YOU BLOATED NAZI AUTOCRAT!!!! Of course, since being fired from Lockhead-Martin last fall, I can't really afford better, but I get by. All I really need is few bags of beans from the general store, reams of paper, and ammunition for the inevitable day when the federal government gestapo comes to silence me for speaking out against their one-world new world order agenda. Point is, I can't afford to take you out a lot.
What was that? Are they here? Have they come to get me? No. No. It was just a squirrel.
Ted Chambers has done everything in his power to shut me up, from that bogus restraining order, to the trumped-up charges of "attempting to start a secessionist citizen militia group". He even got me fired from my job, for allegedly using my workstation to send "threatening, harassing, and inflammatory emails". So, what could I do? I cashed in my 401, converted it to gold (I don't trust money since Nixon/Greenspan took us off the gold standard. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY THE ECONOMY IS HURTING, LOOK NO FURTHER THAN THE ADOPTION OF FIAT MONEY BY FEUDAL WALL STREET BARONS AND THEIR SNIVELING LAPDOGS IN CONGRESS!!!) and devoted myself entirely to falling off the grid and fighting the federal government and all the Ted Chambers in the world. All I'm looking for is the same in a woman.
Jesus. I heard something. Is that them? Has the day of my prophesying come... no. False alarm. Just the wind. Just a lonely, lonely wind.
Location: (hiding)
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1172845983
Sunday, May 3, 2009
RE: HANDSOME HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER SEEKS SEXY GIRL TO COME TO CALIFORNIA!
HANDSOME HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER SEEKS SEXY GIRL TO COME TO CALIFORNIA! - 39 (Hollywood Hills)
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Reply to: pers-kvzbm-1152279880@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-05-03, 11:10AM MDT
I am living an ADVENTURE!
Making Movies, TV & Music that entertain the World!
Life only goes around once, jump in & go for it!
Creativity, nature, showbiz, fun & adventure!
Tell me about yourself!
Location: Hollywood Hills
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1152279880
Letter of Cease and Desist
Colin Heintze to pers-kvzbm-115.
show details 3:26 PM (1 minute ago)
Dear Mr. Crowe
I must say I am shocked and disappointed by your insistence to violate the terms of the cease and desist order issued to you February 17th of this year that clearly bans you from using craigslist as a medium for recruiting further victims. You paid quite a great deal of money to keep the family of Sheila Meyers quiet about your last "incident", an offer they took on good faith with the understanding that you would never put young women through what you did their daughter. Just to be clear Russell, I would like to remind you of the stipulations of your bond/civil suits:
1a. The defendant (Russell Crowe) is hereby prohibited from viewing, entering, or posting anything on the website "craigslist". Investigators found that his posts "Come With Me to California for Movie Magic" and "Production Assistants Needed in Hollywood Hills", as well as several others suspected to be authored by Crowe, were ads intended to lure young women to hotel rooms. In almost every case, the women were severely beaten and sexually assaulted by Crowe, often in the adapted persona of one of his film characters.
1b. The defendant is furthermore prohibited from viewing, entering, or posting on any "social networking sites" such as "Myspace", "Facebook", "Twitter", or "singlehornykids.com".
2a. The defendant is furthermore required to take alcohol abuse classes, at the insistence of his council who suffered several violent assaults at the hands of the rogue film icon.
2b. Subsequent legal defenses of "I was taking the piss out of a 24-pack of Foster's" will not be admissible in court. Though it is a tried and true legal response in the defendant's native Australia, there is no legal precedent in Los Angeles County that could entertain such a legal defense.
3. The defendant (Crowe) is required to take at least 180 hours of anger management, due to his numerous threats/attacks on peace officers, courtroom personnel, and random citizens described by the defendant as "looking a little bloody poncy."
4. In the event of violation of these terms, the defendant will be immediately deported and sentenced to a life term on the prison colony Australia. He shall be housed in the medium-security facility of Melbourne, a facility dept. of Corrections analysts have concluded houses an inmate population with a similar temperament to Mr. Crowe's own.
5. Under no circumstances is the defendant allowed to record to an analog or digital format, or perform publicly, any of his "music", which has been defined by the courts as the worst act of violence yet perpetrated by the defendant. Violation of this term will result in the same punishment outlined in section 4.
I hope that has reminded you of everything you have at stake here, Russell. Though I am a fan of your distinguished film career, I must insist you abide by the terms of the court ruling, as your rampage of rape, beatings, and aurally offensive music has left deep national scars that need time to heal.
Fearfully Yours,
Samuel Pfister, Attorney at Law
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Reply to: pers-kvzbm-1152279880@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-05-03, 11:10AM MDT
I am living an ADVENTURE!
Making Movies, TV & Music that entertain the World!
Life only goes around once, jump in & go for it!
Creativity, nature, showbiz, fun & adventure!
Tell me about yourself!
Location: Hollywood Hills
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1152279880
Letter of Cease and Desist
Colin Heintze to pers-kvzbm-115.
show details 3:26 PM (1 minute ago)
Dear Mr. Crowe
I must say I am shocked and disappointed by your insistence to violate the terms of the cease and desist order issued to you February 17th of this year that clearly bans you from using craigslist as a medium for recruiting further victims. You paid quite a great deal of money to keep the family of Sheila Meyers quiet about your last "incident", an offer they took on good faith with the understanding that you would never put young women through what you did their daughter. Just to be clear Russell, I would like to remind you of the stipulations of your bond/civil suits:
1a. The defendant (Russell Crowe) is hereby prohibited from viewing, entering, or posting anything on the website "craigslist". Investigators found that his posts "Come With Me to California for Movie Magic" and "Production Assistants Needed in Hollywood Hills", as well as several others suspected to be authored by Crowe, were ads intended to lure young women to hotel rooms. In almost every case, the women were severely beaten and sexually assaulted by Crowe, often in the adapted persona of one of his film characters.
1b. The defendant is furthermore prohibited from viewing, entering, or posting on any "social networking sites" such as "Myspace", "Facebook", "Twitter", or "singlehornykids.com".
2a. The defendant is furthermore required to take alcohol abuse classes, at the insistence of his council who suffered several violent assaults at the hands of the rogue film icon.
2b. Subsequent legal defenses of "I was taking the piss out of a 24-pack of Foster's" will not be admissible in court. Though it is a tried and true legal response in the defendant's native Australia, there is no legal precedent in Los Angeles County that could entertain such a legal defense.
3. The defendant (Crowe) is required to take at least 180 hours of anger management, due to his numerous threats/attacks on peace officers, courtroom personnel, and random citizens described by the defendant as "looking a little bloody poncy."
4. In the event of violation of these terms, the defendant will be immediately deported and sentenced to a life term on the prison colony Australia. He shall be housed in the medium-security facility of Melbourne, a facility dept. of Corrections analysts have concluded houses an inmate population with a similar temperament to Mr. Crowe's own.
5. Under no circumstances is the defendant allowed to record to an analog or digital format, or perform publicly, any of his "music", which has been defined by the courts as the worst act of violence yet perpetrated by the defendant. Violation of this term will result in the same punishment outlined in section 4.
I hope that has reminded you of everything you have at stake here, Russell. Though I am a fan of your distinguished film career, I must insist you abide by the terms of the court ruling, as your rampage of rape, beatings, and aurally offensive music has left deep national scars that need time to heal.
Fearfully Yours,
Samuel Pfister, Attorney at Law
Help me Clean up this Filthy, Pornographic City?
Help me Clean up this Filthy, Pornographic City? - 25 (Denver)
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Reply to: pers-xxw3r-1152457166@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-05-03, 1:03PM MDT
So it's come to this. Dating on the internet, that putrid, dripping soul of society's collective filth and indecency.
I thought on my nightly constitutionals, as I stalk the city seeking to punish the transgressors slowly driving society into a mire of offal and excrement, I would have found a nice girl. Every girl likes a hero, right? And heroes are hard to come by in this day and age, where the good cower behind bolted doors, ignoring the cries in the night as the evil and corrupt ply their depraved trades, making life a stinking sewer of vice and corruption. The pimps. The dealers. The glassy-eyed whores offering every debauched pleasure simply for a chance to plunge poison into their diseased arms.
I specifically asked for no mayo on this sandwich, yet there is clearly mayo on here, right between the foul, spoiled lettuce and immoral, hedonistic turkey. I must make a note to visit that boy behind the sandwich counter one of these howling, lonely nights. If he is unable to withhold his end of the social contract and make a sandwich as specified, then he must suffer at the hands of the righteous avenger.
I thought I had met a nice girl a few months back, as I prowled the cold night, peeking in windows to locate despicable crimes in action. She was being raped. The evil pig atop her grunting and moaning, drops of foul sweat falling from his brow. I kicked in the door and beat him, beat him with the rage of a thousand avenging angels, until he would never defile another innocent again. And, did I get any thanks? No, just a whole lot of "oh my God, my boyfriend!" and calls of "murderer! Murderer!". Sheesh. Women.
My god. In front of this window, there is a young woman changing, undoubtedly to fulfill some kind of depraved exhibitionist perversion. I will watch. That will be her punishment, to know that the one righteous man in this stinking brothel of a city will watch her and judge her. My god, are those C cups? They didn't look that big under her nighty. I will continue to punish her until I can no longer hang onto the sixth story ledge.
Have to go now. There is a young couple walking down the street. He has his arm around her, and she is looking at him with all the trust and adoration of a woman who is about to be kidnapped, sold into slavery, and gang-raped for years by visiting Russian businessmen. "I must stop it". That's what I tell myself as my hand slides, serpent-like, into my pocket for the collapsible baton. I may never win this war, but all that matters is that I fight...
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1152457166
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Reply to: pers-xxw3r-1152457166@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-05-03, 1:03PM MDT
So it's come to this. Dating on the internet, that putrid, dripping soul of society's collective filth and indecency.
I thought on my nightly constitutionals, as I stalk the city seeking to punish the transgressors slowly driving society into a mire of offal and excrement, I would have found a nice girl. Every girl likes a hero, right? And heroes are hard to come by in this day and age, where the good cower behind bolted doors, ignoring the cries in the night as the evil and corrupt ply their depraved trades, making life a stinking sewer of vice and corruption. The pimps. The dealers. The glassy-eyed whores offering every debauched pleasure simply for a chance to plunge poison into their diseased arms.
I specifically asked for no mayo on this sandwich, yet there is clearly mayo on here, right between the foul, spoiled lettuce and immoral, hedonistic turkey. I must make a note to visit that boy behind the sandwich counter one of these howling, lonely nights. If he is unable to withhold his end of the social contract and make a sandwich as specified, then he must suffer at the hands of the righteous avenger.
I thought I had met a nice girl a few months back, as I prowled the cold night, peeking in windows to locate despicable crimes in action. She was being raped. The evil pig atop her grunting and moaning, drops of foul sweat falling from his brow. I kicked in the door and beat him, beat him with the rage of a thousand avenging angels, until he would never defile another innocent again. And, did I get any thanks? No, just a whole lot of "oh my God, my boyfriend!" and calls of "murderer! Murderer!". Sheesh. Women.
My god. In front of this window, there is a young woman changing, undoubtedly to fulfill some kind of depraved exhibitionist perversion. I will watch. That will be her punishment, to know that the one righteous man in this stinking brothel of a city will watch her and judge her. My god, are those C cups? They didn't look that big under her nighty. I will continue to punish her until I can no longer hang onto the sixth story ledge.
Have to go now. There is a young couple walking down the street. He has his arm around her, and she is looking at him with all the trust and adoration of a woman who is about to be kidnapped, sold into slavery, and gang-raped for years by visiting Russian businessmen. "I must stop it". That's what I tell myself as my hand slides, serpent-like, into my pocket for the collapsible baton. I may never win this war, but all that matters is that I fight...
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1152457166
Monday, April 20, 2009
RE: I'm looking for the Adam I took my rib from. Is it you?
I'm looking for the Adam I took my rib from. Is it you? - 23 (Denver metro)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-wadme-1130527562@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-04-19, 8:28PM MDT
Hey! Thanks for checking out my ad.
First time I've ever done this, and I must admit I feel a little dumb. :-)
A bit about me, perhaps is always a good thing to start with. I am 23 years young and have recently moved to Colorado to continue my college career and am majoring in music-- vocal performance. I love to sing, play the guitar (acoustic), djembe (African hand drum), and am learning piano. I have been singing for about 20 years now and can't seem to get sick of it. I am delving into the idea of becoming a professional undergraduate student (5 years strong with 2.5 to go), or perhaps I can see if my school offers it as a minor. :-) I was ignoring the calling God had placed in my life for music, so I pursued just about anything else for most of my career until recently. I'm a girl with a sense of humor which I know seems to be a rare find these days, so it looks like I'm a catch! Haha Anyway, usually I look through personal ads on craigslist for sheer entertainment purposes because I can't believe the things people legitimately say about themselves in order to become more attractive. Good times! So, in response to the greatness of personal ads on craigslist, oddly enough, I am posting one of my own. How rich!
It is probably about time for a little more information about myself. I was raised in a Christian home, and have a personal relationship with Jesus. Don't be fooled, however, I am not a bible-thumper. I have never been married and have no children of my own, except for the little Colombian girl I'm supporting through Compassion International. I do not smoke, unless you count the occasional turkey or brisket-- which really I don't smoke, just enjoy the flavor of. I do like an occasional amaretto sour or even a cold Guiness to de-junk my week or even month. I enjoy being outside and participating in activities such as hiking, snowboarding (when time permits), camping, fishing, etc. with my friends. I also enjoy getting dressed up and going downtown to just check out the arts or soak up the culture (concerts, art museum, or a walk down the 16th street mall). I enjoy watching sports (baseball, basketball mainly, but really anything) and an occasional pick up game. Look forward to going to INVESCO Field sometime in the near future.
I have worked at a Christian special needs camp for the last 5 years now and will be volunteering there again this summer for a week. It captured my heart since the very beginning. I currently work as a server, a.k.a. entertaining the hungry. I am awesome, yet totally humble! Truth. I enjoy watching movies and reading a book outside of classwork, from time to time. Well, I've blabbed enough about myself and I enjoy leaving a little mystery for you. I will gladly exchange a picture for a picture, as I am leery of posting mine for all of the internet to see.
Hope you have a great day and look forward to hearing from you! Also, please do not send me any spam, or offers for websites or anything that does not respect yourself or myself. Also, if you can place your answer to the origin of the following quote in the subject line so I know you're not a robot, that would be awesome!!
"Remember kid, there's heroes and there's legends. Heroes get remembered but legends never die, follow your heart kid, and you'll never go wrong." If you know the answer, then you know one of my favorite movies! :-) Good luck!!
Location: Denver metro
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1130527562
I Think We Have a Lot in Common...
Colin Heintze to pers-wadme-113.
show details 8:08 PM (4 minutes ago)
Good evening! I saw your post and really liked what you have to say. I've devoted my life to charitable causes, and am happy to find a woman who has the same proactive attitude about bettering mankind and spreading the word of the lord. In my life, I have participated with a variety of charitable activities, including working with retarded Christian babies and baptizing lowland gorillas (when they stay still, LOL). My most recent, and harrowing, was the thirteen months of missionary work I did in South America, in the jungle primeval (referred to by nearby settled meztizo populations as "the green inferno") near the Peru/Brazil border. Rather than explain in a lengthy dissertation, I'll allow some of my journal entries to speak for themselves:
Day 4: Sighted our first sign of habitation - the head of a tapir impaled upon a pole. It appears to be wreathed in all manner of talismans and charms. Pagan superstition, I'm sure. Our guide informs us this sign marks the beginning of Oawito territory. I look forward to pushing farther into the interior. I have every expectation they will welcome us as friends and accept Christ into their hearts.
Day 6: Still no sight of the Oawito. Today, we came across a campsite that, judging by the embers in the fire-pit, must have been abandoned only a few hours before. They seem to be avoiding us, but I won't let that deter us, not when there's still the Lord's work to be done!
Day 9: Still no contact. Have several infected sores caused by insect bites. My feet feel absolutely rubbery, and my socks are rotted. Lucille says she feels cold. How can that be, when the rest of us are baking in this heat?
Day: 10: Lucille is dead. Turns out she had malaria. She would have been fine like the rest of us, except her particular church doesn't believe in vaccinations. Reverend Fowler gave her the most beautiful ceremony.
Day 11: Contact! We stumbled upon an Oawito fishing village. They seem like very peaceful people; there isn't a weapon of any kind in sight. They should be easy to persuade - after all, what are pagans other than human beings waiting to be perfected? Strangely, there seems to be only old people and children in this village. I'll investigate further, once I can contain my excitement.
Day 13: Handed out bibles today. The Oawito attempted to eat them. I find these people... odd. Though they do not seem to fear us, they pay little notice of us. I have heard that tribes in these areas have strict taboos concerning outsiders. This means I will have to try twice as hard to win their confidence.
Day 15: Some Jesuits showed up at the village. We shook our fists at them and they left, sulking, on to another village to spread their heretical dogma. You should have seen the looks on those jerks' faces.
Day 16: The Oawito became visibly upset when Reverend Fowler toppled the totem in the village square to erect the new church. In a patois of sign language and pidgin Spanish, I attempted to explain to them that we respect their religious beliefs - that every religion can be a pathway to accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior. Sadly, I don't think they understood.
Day 18: I think Fowler has gone mad with power. He whipped a native woman who was going topless and forced her to cover herself. Though I'm glad he taught them shame, I cannot help but wonder if we're going about this the wrong way.
Day 24: Oh my God. It's everywhere... the blood... I can't, I can't... close my eyes without seeing what they did to Jason. Turns out this village did have plenty of weapons, and plenty of young men. They were all in the forest, hunting us. Fowler wants the remaining team to make a break for it, though with our guide shot in the neck with a blow-gun, can we find our way? I still trust in Christ to guide us.
Day 25: I no longer believe in God, or anything else for that matter. How could an all-wise, benevolent entity create such horror and misery? They caught us a few miles downriver. I've spent the last day in a wooden cage submerged to my waist in swamp water. I don't know what has been done with the others, but I hear horrible cries in the night...
Day 39: Still in the cage. Growing thinner. I only get one little bowl of meat a day. I have scarcely the energy to shoo the flies from my face or pull the leeches off my body. I pray God will allow me to die.
Day 47: Haven't eaten for days, not since I found out they've been feeding me Fowler. Please God, let me die quickly.
Day 55: Great news! I'm currently flying to Lima in a government helicopter! Turns out, the army finally located the Oawito villages and has fully resumed its ethnic cleansing campaign! You should have seen the way they ran from the machine-guns and mortar shells! God bless us all! I'm so happy to be amongst civilized men once more!
Day 58: Bad news. Since we entered the country illegally, I'm being held in detention until the U.S. Embassy can negotiate release. I'm being held without charges or access to an attorney. It seems Peru doesn't guarantee those kinds of constitutional rights...
So, if you're interested in a guy with a proven track record of participating in Christian causes, just give me a shout!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-wadme-1130527562@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-04-19, 8:28PM MDT
Hey! Thanks for checking out my ad.
First time I've ever done this, and I must admit I feel a little dumb. :-)
A bit about me, perhaps is always a good thing to start with. I am 23 years young and have recently moved to Colorado to continue my college career and am majoring in music-- vocal performance. I love to sing, play the guitar (acoustic), djembe (African hand drum), and am learning piano. I have been singing for about 20 years now and can't seem to get sick of it. I am delving into the idea of becoming a professional undergraduate student (5 years strong with 2.5 to go), or perhaps I can see if my school offers it as a minor. :-) I was ignoring the calling God had placed in my life for music, so I pursued just about anything else for most of my career until recently. I'm a girl with a sense of humor which I know seems to be a rare find these days, so it looks like I'm a catch! Haha Anyway, usually I look through personal ads on craigslist for sheer entertainment purposes because I can't believe the things people legitimately say about themselves in order to become more attractive. Good times! So, in response to the greatness of personal ads on craigslist, oddly enough, I am posting one of my own. How rich!
It is probably about time for a little more information about myself. I was raised in a Christian home, and have a personal relationship with Jesus. Don't be fooled, however, I am not a bible-thumper. I have never been married and have no children of my own, except for the little Colombian girl I'm supporting through Compassion International. I do not smoke, unless you count the occasional turkey or brisket-- which really I don't smoke, just enjoy the flavor of. I do like an occasional amaretto sour or even a cold Guiness to de-junk my week or even month. I enjoy being outside and participating in activities such as hiking, snowboarding (when time permits), camping, fishing, etc. with my friends. I also enjoy getting dressed up and going downtown to just check out the arts or soak up the culture (concerts, art museum, or a walk down the 16th street mall). I enjoy watching sports (baseball, basketball mainly, but really anything) and an occasional pick up game. Look forward to going to INVESCO Field sometime in the near future.
I have worked at a Christian special needs camp for the last 5 years now and will be volunteering there again this summer for a week. It captured my heart since the very beginning. I currently work as a server, a.k.a. entertaining the hungry. I am awesome, yet totally humble! Truth. I enjoy watching movies and reading a book outside of classwork, from time to time. Well, I've blabbed enough about myself and I enjoy leaving a little mystery for you. I will gladly exchange a picture for a picture, as I am leery of posting mine for all of the internet to see.
Hope you have a great day and look forward to hearing from you! Also, please do not send me any spam, or offers for websites or anything that does not respect yourself or myself. Also, if you can place your answer to the origin of the following quote in the subject line so I know you're not a robot, that would be awesome!!
"Remember kid, there's heroes and there's legends. Heroes get remembered but legends never die, follow your heart kid, and you'll never go wrong." If you know the answer, then you know one of my favorite movies! :-) Good luck!!
Location: Denver metro
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1130527562
I Think We Have a Lot in Common...
Colin Heintze to pers-wadme-113.
show details 8:08 PM (4 minutes ago)
Good evening! I saw your post and really liked what you have to say. I've devoted my life to charitable causes, and am happy to find a woman who has the same proactive attitude about bettering mankind and spreading the word of the lord. In my life, I have participated with a variety of charitable activities, including working with retarded Christian babies and baptizing lowland gorillas (when they stay still, LOL). My most recent, and harrowing, was the thirteen months of missionary work I did in South America, in the jungle primeval (referred to by nearby settled meztizo populations as "the green inferno") near the Peru/Brazil border. Rather than explain in a lengthy dissertation, I'll allow some of my journal entries to speak for themselves:
Day 4: Sighted our first sign of habitation - the head of a tapir impaled upon a pole. It appears to be wreathed in all manner of talismans and charms. Pagan superstition, I'm sure. Our guide informs us this sign marks the beginning of Oawito territory. I look forward to pushing farther into the interior. I have every expectation they will welcome us as friends and accept Christ into their hearts.
Day 6: Still no sight of the Oawito. Today, we came across a campsite that, judging by the embers in the fire-pit, must have been abandoned only a few hours before. They seem to be avoiding us, but I won't let that deter us, not when there's still the Lord's work to be done!
Day 9: Still no contact. Have several infected sores caused by insect bites. My feet feel absolutely rubbery, and my socks are rotted. Lucille says she feels cold. How can that be, when the rest of us are baking in this heat?
Day: 10: Lucille is dead. Turns out she had malaria. She would have been fine like the rest of us, except her particular church doesn't believe in vaccinations. Reverend Fowler gave her the most beautiful ceremony.
Day 11: Contact! We stumbled upon an Oawito fishing village. They seem like very peaceful people; there isn't a weapon of any kind in sight. They should be easy to persuade - after all, what are pagans other than human beings waiting to be perfected? Strangely, there seems to be only old people and children in this village. I'll investigate further, once I can contain my excitement.
Day 13: Handed out bibles today. The Oawito attempted to eat them. I find these people... odd. Though they do not seem to fear us, they pay little notice of us. I have heard that tribes in these areas have strict taboos concerning outsiders. This means I will have to try twice as hard to win their confidence.
Day 15: Some Jesuits showed up at the village. We shook our fists at them and they left, sulking, on to another village to spread their heretical dogma. You should have seen the looks on those jerks' faces.
Day 16: The Oawito became visibly upset when Reverend Fowler toppled the totem in the village square to erect the new church. In a patois of sign language and pidgin Spanish, I attempted to explain to them that we respect their religious beliefs - that every religion can be a pathway to accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior. Sadly, I don't think they understood.
Day 18: I think Fowler has gone mad with power. He whipped a native woman who was going topless and forced her to cover herself. Though I'm glad he taught them shame, I cannot help but wonder if we're going about this the wrong way.
Day 24: Oh my God. It's everywhere... the blood... I can't, I can't... close my eyes without seeing what they did to Jason. Turns out this village did have plenty of weapons, and plenty of young men. They were all in the forest, hunting us. Fowler wants the remaining team to make a break for it, though with our guide shot in the neck with a blow-gun, can we find our way? I still trust in Christ to guide us.
Day 25: I no longer believe in God, or anything else for that matter. How could an all-wise, benevolent entity create such horror and misery? They caught us a few miles downriver. I've spent the last day in a wooden cage submerged to my waist in swamp water. I don't know what has been done with the others, but I hear horrible cries in the night...
Day 39: Still in the cage. Growing thinner. I only get one little bowl of meat a day. I have scarcely the energy to shoo the flies from my face or pull the leeches off my body. I pray God will allow me to die.
Day 47: Haven't eaten for days, not since I found out they've been feeding me Fowler. Please God, let me die quickly.
Day 55: Great news! I'm currently flying to Lima in a government helicopter! Turns out, the army finally located the Oawito villages and has fully resumed its ethnic cleansing campaign! You should have seen the way they ran from the machine-guns and mortar shells! God bless us all! I'm so happy to be amongst civilized men once more!
Day 58: Bad news. Since we entered the country illegally, I'm being held in detention until the U.S. Embassy can negotiate release. I'm being held without charges or access to an attorney. It seems Peru doesn't guarantee those kinds of constitutional rights...
So, if you're interested in a guy with a proven track record of participating in Christian causes, just give me a shout!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Looking For a Chick that Understands Ultimate Brutality
Looking For a Chick that Understands Ultimate Brutality - 25 (Denver)
Reply to: pers-5qcyb-1119049614@craigslist.org Date: 2009-04-12, 2:08PM MDT
Hey, what's up. Let me be the first to say that this internet dating stuff is for total poseurs, but I'm only gonna be in the country for a few more months so I might as well give it a shot.
My name's Skaldi Laarkvest and I'm in the black metal band Engage, Enslave, Exterminate. Here's what I'm looking for in a chick while we tour this shithole country:
- first, I need a chick who thinks I'm not goth. Let me explain right now: goths are faggy teenagers who read Lord Byron and hang out in front of the Orange Julius. Though I may paint my face and wear spiked arm-bands, I AM NOT GOTH! I'm simply your average Scandinavian nihilist who wants to play some Satanic shreds.
- that said, don't front as a metal fan and tell me you like bands like Soilwork or Cradle of Filth. That commercial shit is made for fat American teenagers whose penises don't work. Real metal is produced in basements on hand-held recorders and is made only for the glory of the fuckin' Aesir.
- most of all, you should get ultimate brutality. You should have a fondness of that perfect moment when hate, angst, frustration, and disappointment meet in one face-melting track that makes everyone listening throw up their hands and say "what the fuck is worth living for?".
So, if that's you, get back to me. We're playing a show next week with Debauched Bishop, Hammerslain, and Eisefurtenpaarastmagoral, and I could really use you helping out backstage when we herd the goats onstage for the third set.
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Reply to: pers-5qcyb-1119049614@craigslist.org Date: 2009-04-12, 2:08PM MDT
Hey, what's up. Let me be the first to say that this internet dating stuff is for total poseurs, but I'm only gonna be in the country for a few more months so I might as well give it a shot.
My name's Skaldi Laarkvest and I'm in the black metal band Engage, Enslave, Exterminate. Here's what I'm looking for in a chick while we tour this shithole country:
- first, I need a chick who thinks I'm not goth. Let me explain right now: goths are faggy teenagers who read Lord Byron and hang out in front of the Orange Julius. Though I may paint my face and wear spiked arm-bands, I AM NOT GOTH! I'm simply your average Scandinavian nihilist who wants to play some Satanic shreds.
- that said, don't front as a metal fan and tell me you like bands like Soilwork or Cradle of Filth. That commercial shit is made for fat American teenagers whose penises don't work. Real metal is produced in basements on hand-held recorders and is made only for the glory of the fuckin' Aesir.
- most of all, you should get ultimate brutality. You should have a fondness of that perfect moment when hate, angst, frustration, and disappointment meet in one face-melting track that makes everyone listening throw up their hands and say "what the fuck is worth living for?".
So, if that's you, get back to me. We're playing a show next week with Debauched Bishop, Hammerslain, and Eisefurtenpaarastmagoral, and I could really use you helping out backstage when we herd the goats onstage for the third set.
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Alright, Where's the Other Half of the Amulet?
Alright, Where's the Other Half of the Amulet? - 4255 (Denver)
Reply to: pers-jfpme-1101353755@craigslist.org Date: 2009-03-31, 5:21PM MDT
Alright shit-for-brains, I know you’re out there. You know that scarab amulet, the one that seems to missing one half? Guess who has it: me, the person you stole it from. It’s lead me halfway around the world to this stinking little corner of the planet, and I just want to say: give me back the other half. Nothing bad will happen to you, I promise.
Ever wonder why you’ve been vomiting an unusually large amount of snakes lately? Yo, right here. Those friends and associates who are turning up as desiccated corpses, as if the very life had been drained away from them? Look no further.
You know, back in my day, women were more respectful. They raised the children, cooked the meals, and occasionally helped out in the harvest if the floodwaters had been especially rich that year. They didn’t go getting advanced degrees, galloping off to the other side of the world, and messing with some perfect stranger’s shit.
Do I have to remind you of what happened to that English chap about eighty years ago? He thought it would be a good idea to break into my house (I didn’t have fourteen-thousand slaves build it so you people could browse through it like you’re at goddamn fucking Walmart, BTW), steal my stuff, and put my body in a museum like I’m some kind of fucking painting. It took ten years to collect all the artifacts he and his team had stolen from me and when I was finished… let’s just say they won’t be sailing on the reed-boat to the pretty lands of West anytime soon, not in the cursed state of hideous un-life I left them in.
So, you can avoid all of that if you just give me the other half of my amulet. I don’t even really like that amulet very much (too much turquoise, if you ask me), but I can’t rest again until it’s back on the shelf with all those jars containing my heart, kidneys, and gallbladder.
Seriously, stealing my stuff? Not cool, man. Not cool.
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1101353755
Reply to: pers-jfpme-1101353755@craigslist.org Date: 2009-03-31, 5:21PM MDT
Alright shit-for-brains, I know you’re out there. You know that scarab amulet, the one that seems to missing one half? Guess who has it: me, the person you stole it from. It’s lead me halfway around the world to this stinking little corner of the planet, and I just want to say: give me back the other half. Nothing bad will happen to you, I promise.
Ever wonder why you’ve been vomiting an unusually large amount of snakes lately? Yo, right here. Those friends and associates who are turning up as desiccated corpses, as if the very life had been drained away from them? Look no further.
You know, back in my day, women were more respectful. They raised the children, cooked the meals, and occasionally helped out in the harvest if the floodwaters had been especially rich that year. They didn’t go getting advanced degrees, galloping off to the other side of the world, and messing with some perfect stranger’s shit.
Do I have to remind you of what happened to that English chap about eighty years ago? He thought it would be a good idea to break into my house (I didn’t have fourteen-thousand slaves build it so you people could browse through it like you’re at goddamn fucking Walmart, BTW), steal my stuff, and put my body in a museum like I’m some kind of fucking painting. It took ten years to collect all the artifacts he and his team had stolen from me and when I was finished… let’s just say they won’t be sailing on the reed-boat to the pretty lands of West anytime soon, not in the cursed state of hideous un-life I left them in.
So, you can avoid all of that if you just give me the other half of my amulet. I don’t even really like that amulet very much (too much turquoise, if you ask me), but I can’t rest again until it’s back on the shelf with all those jars containing my heart, kidneys, and gallbladder.
Seriously, stealing my stuff? Not cool, man. Not cool.
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1101353755
Thursday, March 19, 2009
For the Love of God... (Responses; Need Help Having New Experiences)
XXXXXXX Riley to pers-fqtjg-108.
How much of this is true? You know an aweful lot about things you have never done or been subject to. I am actually quite real. I am twenty seven and well experienced in BULLSHIT! So how much is true and what do you bring to the table? -G
Colin Heintze
to XXXXXXXX10
I'm very experienced in "bullshit" as well. For a few summers my brother Malachai was sick with the consumption and I had to help to plant the corn crop. Trust me, I was elbow-high in 'bullshit' for nearly a month, fertilizing the soil. this was before all the tacky English wanted to have our furniture and my father decided to make cabinets and yes, tables, for a living. So, I don't know what I can "bring to the table", but when I wasn't sewing or churning butter I did pick up a few tricks from the men-folk, so I can certainly MAKE a table if that's what you mean...
WIlliam XXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
Seems like you want to just bust out the gates and live! haha, if you wanna learn about life with a secure man, i can teach you about the world without the non-sense. I can help with the "mind issue" as well. I meditate now can help with "gripping reality and life".
call me, im 20 and athletic, shy and humble. I walk with the light but should suggest i dont know much, cause youll probably be suprised how wonder life can be just from a conversation. give me a call. 303-XXX-XXXX
Colin Heintze to WIlliam
show details 10:15 PM (0 minutes ago)
I'm sorry William, but the strict, isolated, religious upbringing I have suffered under has made me pretty ignorant to a lot of the ways of the outside world. For example, my education (load of crap that it was) told me that sentences in the English language usually follow a "subject, object, verb" structure. I can see from your reply that this was yet another lie. I'm sure a more civilized person would have some clue as to what the fuck you're talking about, but I'm just stumped.
joseph XXXXXXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
How deep in do you want to jump?
90 on a bike to start
maybe show you life in side BDSM
I know peopel for prity much any drug you want
I do tattoos and pirecings
the world is open and i'm the door way
Colin Heintze to joseph
All the way, Joe. I'm talking strung-out-on-meth-fifty-dicks-in-my-ass-like-the-tail-of-a-peacock all the way. When I get back, I want to be so unclean that they won't even WANT to baptize me. I figure hepatitis will do the trick - since you're obviously a drug user and tattoo enthusiast, I'm sure you could help me out with that.
XXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
Alright rockstar, you seem like you have a good energy, but you also
have an attitude. It's all good tho, it's sexy. But you better be able
to back up that platinum tongue of yours.
If you're the kind of female that dates the guys at the bars who put
on their best polo shirts and go out and stand in their groups of
friends, just looking around, and drinking down enough liquid courage
to come say something stupid to you; then you and I are never going to
work. I love women and I hate girls. You had better love men and hate
little boys.
You need to be able to flow like a rockstar time after time, expand
your mind like your sexual fuse is coming to an end, and be able to
chill like that tool bag ex just walked out the door and you have
nothing left in front of you but freedom, unconstrained pleasure,
Saturday night body-quivering mind-expanding sessions, and Sunday
morning encores.
If you answered yes to any of the above questions, then you get 5 cool
points, so good for you. Now all you have to do is decide if I'm a 40
year old, overweight, desperate, video gamer addicted to online
gaming, posing as this magical man who just wrote you this message.!
All I want is what anyone needs... those experiences where the rest of
the world is nothing but a fog, and all you have in front of you is a
time to release all your constraints and frustrations in a night of
intense inhibition release, where you connect on a passionate and intensely
sexual level with someone who can connect with your flowing
and aggressive sexual energy... and then walk away the next morning,
both of us relieved, refreshed, and vibrant. You've got that seduction
tiger in you...
But of course, we need to be cool first
Catch ya soon
Colin Heintze to XXXXXXXX
show details 10:37 PM (-1 minutes ago)
Can you jam a syringe full of ketamine into my clit? Can you videotape it as your friends run a train on me? Will you watch me pee in a bucket through night-vision goggles? No offense, but I'm not looking for "intense inhibition release" as much as utter and complete defilement. I want to bathe in the shit and refuse of modern society. I want to get so dirty I have no choice but to never go back...
XXXXXXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
lol I must say, I enjoyed your post, but I am not 100% positive you mean what you say. Let me explain.
I actually know what Rumspringa is which I hope is a plus, but I also know what the world is like. I had my "party days" when I was 16 and honestly, some shit I did I regret horribly. BUT if you want a good time without causing major havoc, hit me up. I'm a movie fiend, and if you haven't had chicken wings yet... we NEED to go. I know the best pizza parlors (not just corporate places but the BEST small places no one knows about). I can present you to a ton of food that I'm sure you've rarely if ever had (depending on your family rules).
Well food is one thing I'm sure you'll enjoy, but there is SO MUCH MORE!!!! movies are great, I'd take you to see Watchmen (its amazing) and even introduce you to this "twilight" phenomenon. If you'd let me, I'd take you to shoot guns at the gun range, its way more fun than people give credit, and take you to a hookah bar. (a form of smoking, tastes GREAT!). Drinking,,, well its over rated, and guaranteed if you choose to do it, you'll throw up and quite possibly end up having sex with the 240lb fat kid that hasn't even seen his own dic in 3 years do to his weight. (believe me... I'm NOT exaggerating this). that is definately NOT a memory you want to have. On a more sexual note, do you really want un satisfying sex?... lol thats what through me for a spin, that is quite a rare request. but if you would consider to have SATISFYING sex, well I can help with that too.
All in all, I'm a chill guy, I'm understanding of where you came from, but I'm NOT going to totally screw your life over. If you want the fun and excitement I'm sure being locked away in a Amish community has made you desire WITHOUT the things that you will possibly regret. Hit me up. I can really show you a GREAT time. oh and one more thing that I'm sure your community will LOVE... lol, I'm hispanic, (not mexican) I'm from Argentina. well here is my pic. If I caught your attention, I hope you email back. I would love to spend time with you. I'm not going to demand a picture back from you, but would appreciate if you could send one.
Colin Heintze to XXXXXXXXXXX.
show details 10:48 PM (-1 minutes ago)
I have mixed feelings about this. Reverend Haag always told me people from Argentina are Catholics, heretics who worship a whore in Rome, and that they take naps in the middle of the day and can't raise a barn for shit cause' their economy is collapsing every five years.
Though, I have to say, the gun thing is pretty sexy. I've never liked my people's insistence on pacifism, and shooting some people would be a real turn-on. Are there any people who wouldn't be missed, like prostitutes or homeless gentlemen we could just go to town on?
How much of this is true? You know an aweful lot about things you have never done or been subject to. I am actually quite real. I am twenty seven and well experienced in BULLSHIT! So how much is true and what do you bring to the table? -G
Colin Heintze
to XXXXXXXX10
I'm very experienced in "bullshit" as well. For a few summers my brother Malachai was sick with the consumption and I had to help to plant the corn crop. Trust me, I was elbow-high in 'bullshit' for nearly a month, fertilizing the soil. this was before all the tacky English wanted to have our furniture and my father decided to make cabinets and yes, tables, for a living. So, I don't know what I can "bring to the table", but when I wasn't sewing or churning butter I did pick up a few tricks from the men-folk, so I can certainly MAKE a table if that's what you mean...
WIlliam XXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
Seems like you want to just bust out the gates and live! haha, if you wanna learn about life with a secure man, i can teach you about the world without the non-sense. I can help with the "mind issue" as well. I meditate now can help with "gripping reality and life".
call me, im 20 and athletic, shy and humble. I walk with the light but should suggest i dont know much, cause youll probably be suprised how wonder life can be just from a conversation. give me a call. 303-XXX-XXXX
Colin Heintze to WIlliam
show details 10:15 PM (0 minutes ago)
I'm sorry William, but the strict, isolated, religious upbringing I have suffered under has made me pretty ignorant to a lot of the ways of the outside world. For example, my education (load of crap that it was) told me that sentences in the English language usually follow a "subject, object, verb" structure. I can see from your reply that this was yet another lie. I'm sure a more civilized person would have some clue as to what the fuck you're talking about, but I'm just stumped.
joseph XXXXXXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
How deep in do you want to jump?
90 on a bike to start
maybe show you life in side BDSM
I know peopel for prity much any drug you want
I do tattoos and pirecings
the world is open and i'm the door way
Colin Heintze to joseph
All the way, Joe. I'm talking strung-out-on-meth-fifty-dicks-in-my-ass-like-the-tail-of-a-peacock all the way. When I get back, I want to be so unclean that they won't even WANT to baptize me. I figure hepatitis will do the trick - since you're obviously a drug user and tattoo enthusiast, I'm sure you could help me out with that.
XXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
Alright rockstar, you seem like you have a good energy, but you also
have an attitude. It's all good tho, it's sexy. But you better be able
to back up that platinum tongue of yours.
If you're the kind of female that dates the guys at the bars who put
on their best polo shirts and go out and stand in their groups of
friends, just looking around, and drinking down enough liquid courage
to come say something stupid to you; then you and I are never going to
work. I love women and I hate girls. You had better love men and hate
little boys.
You need to be able to flow like a rockstar time after time, expand
your mind like your sexual fuse is coming to an end, and be able to
chill like that tool bag ex just walked out the door and you have
nothing left in front of you but freedom, unconstrained pleasure,
Saturday night body-quivering mind-expanding sessions, and Sunday
morning encores.
If you answered yes to any of the above questions, then you get 5 cool
points, so good for you. Now all you have to do is decide if I'm a 40
year old, overweight, desperate, video gamer addicted to online
gaming, posing as this magical man who just wrote you this message.!
All I want is what anyone needs... those experiences where the rest of
the world is nothing but a fog, and all you have in front of you is a
time to release all your constraints and frustrations in a night of
intense inhibition release, where you connect on a passionate and intensely
sexual level with someone who can connect with your flowing
and aggressive sexual energy... and then walk away the next morning,
both of us relieved, refreshed, and vibrant. You've got that seduction
tiger in you...
But of course, we need to be cool first
Catch ya soon
Colin Heintze to XXXXXXXX
show details 10:37 PM (-1 minutes ago)
Can you jam a syringe full of ketamine into my clit? Can you videotape it as your friends run a train on me? Will you watch me pee in a bucket through night-vision goggles? No offense, but I'm not looking for "intense inhibition release" as much as utter and complete defilement. I want to bathe in the shit and refuse of modern society. I want to get so dirty I have no choice but to never go back...
XXXXXXXXXXXX to pers-fqtjg-108.
lol I must say, I enjoyed your post, but I am not 100% positive you mean what you say. Let me explain.
I actually know what Rumspringa is which I hope is a plus, but I also know what the world is like. I had my "party days" when I was 16 and honestly, some shit I did I regret horribly. BUT if you want a good time without causing major havoc, hit me up. I'm a movie fiend, and if you haven't had chicken wings yet... we NEED to go. I know the best pizza parlors (not just corporate places but the BEST small places no one knows about). I can present you to a ton of food that I'm sure you've rarely if ever had (depending on your family rules).
Well food is one thing I'm sure you'll enjoy, but there is SO MUCH MORE!!!! movies are great, I'd take you to see Watchmen (its amazing) and even introduce you to this "twilight" phenomenon. If you'd let me, I'd take you to shoot guns at the gun range, its way more fun than people give credit, and take you to a hookah bar. (a form of smoking, tastes GREAT!). Drinking,,, well its over rated, and guaranteed if you choose to do it, you'll throw up and quite possibly end up having sex with the 240lb fat kid that hasn't even seen his own dic in 3 years do to his weight. (believe me... I'm NOT exaggerating this). that is definately NOT a memory you want to have. On a more sexual note, do you really want un satisfying sex?... lol thats what through me for a spin, that is quite a rare request. but if you would consider to have SATISFYING sex, well I can help with that too.
All in all, I'm a chill guy, I'm understanding of where you came from, but I'm NOT going to totally screw your life over. If you want the fun and excitement I'm sure being locked away in a Amish community has made you desire WITHOUT the things that you will possibly regret. Hit me up. I can really show you a GREAT time. oh and one more thing that I'm sure your community will LOVE... lol, I'm hispanic, (not mexican) I'm from Argentina. well here is my pic. If I caught your attention, I hope you email back. I would love to spend time with you. I'm not going to demand a picture back from you, but would appreciate if you could send one.
Colin Heintze to XXXXXXXXXXX.
show details 10:48 PM (-1 minutes ago)
I have mixed feelings about this. Reverend Haag always told me people from Argentina are Catholics, heretics who worship a whore in Rome, and that they take naps in the middle of the day and can't raise a barn for shit cause' their economy is collapsing every five years.
Though, I have to say, the gun thing is pretty sexy. I've never liked my people's insistence on pacifism, and shooting some people would be a real turn-on. Are there any people who wouldn't be missed, like prostitutes or homeless gentlemen we could just go to town on?
Need Help Having New Experiences
Need Help Having New Experiences - 18 (Denver)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-fqtjg-1082818940@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-19, 5:23PM MDT
So, I’m on Rumspringa right now and if being out among the English has taught me anything it’s that growing up in the equivilant of a nineteenth century agricultural commune hasn’t exactly been great for my social life. Just the other day, I met this guy at Starbucks who seemed really nice – handsome, educated, and not my cousin. He wanted me to put my number into his cell phone and I had no idea how to use it. Fuck. Thanks a lot, reverned Ezikeal Haag, I guess I’ll move back to Pennsylvania and have fifteen kids now, you win. Prick.
Anyways, I’m kinda trying to find myself right now. Hey, you know what’s fun? Eating burgers, playing video games, and watching movies. You know what’s not? Having to maintain rigidily enforced silence after sundown backed up by threats of shunning and corporal punishment. Just for once, when I see a group of girls my age talking about something called “The Hills” or “Twilight”, I’d like to be able to offer them more than tips on animal husbandry.
Seriously, it’s Rumspringa and I need to learn more about the world. I’ve already had someone show me how to use the computer (ooooh, scary! I know how to use something that’s not manure!) and want to learn more, all of it. I’ve spent so much of my life sewing quilts that I can’t even make my fingers light a cigarette, if I was even allowed to smoke, which I’m not.
I want someone to show me everything: I want to pursue awkward, unsatisfying sex with perfect strangers because Christ knows when the next time I have the opporunity to do THAT comes along. I want to smoke, drink, ride in cars, snort coke, meet a guy who seems really nice at first but ends up getting me addicted to meth and pimping me out to middle-aged men in a motel room by the interstate… everything. I want some guy to tell me I have “a good look” for movies and end up starring in several amature porno videos, though I’ll be too coked out of my mind to notice and too trusting to think it will ever go any further than that. Anyone, help? Please?
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1082818940
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-fqtjg-1082818940@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-19, 5:23PM MDT
So, I’m on Rumspringa right now and if being out among the English has taught me anything it’s that growing up in the equivilant of a nineteenth century agricultural commune hasn’t exactly been great for my social life. Just the other day, I met this guy at Starbucks who seemed really nice – handsome, educated, and not my cousin. He wanted me to put my number into his cell phone and I had no idea how to use it. Fuck. Thanks a lot, reverned Ezikeal Haag, I guess I’ll move back to Pennsylvania and have fifteen kids now, you win. Prick.
Anyways, I’m kinda trying to find myself right now. Hey, you know what’s fun? Eating burgers, playing video games, and watching movies. You know what’s not? Having to maintain rigidily enforced silence after sundown backed up by threats of shunning and corporal punishment. Just for once, when I see a group of girls my age talking about something called “The Hills” or “Twilight”, I’d like to be able to offer them more than tips on animal husbandry.
Seriously, it’s Rumspringa and I need to learn more about the world. I’ve already had someone show me how to use the computer (ooooh, scary! I know how to use something that’s not manure!) and want to learn more, all of it. I’ve spent so much of my life sewing quilts that I can’t even make my fingers light a cigarette, if I was even allowed to smoke, which I’m not.
I want someone to show me everything: I want to pursue awkward, unsatisfying sex with perfect strangers because Christ knows when the next time I have the opporunity to do THAT comes along. I want to smoke, drink, ride in cars, snort coke, meet a guy who seems really nice at first but ends up getting me addicted to meth and pimping me out to middle-aged men in a motel room by the interstate… everything. I want some guy to tell me I have “a good look” for movies and end up starring in several amature porno videos, though I’ll be too coked out of my mind to notice and too trusting to think it will ever go any further than that. Anyone, help? Please?
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1082818940
I Seek a Refined Young Lady
I Seek a Refined Young Lady - 25 (Denver, LeFleur Manor)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-kypar-1082742329@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-03-19, 4:29PM MDT
Why hello, dear ladies. I am Henry LeFleur, of the Louisiana LeFleurs (not to be confused with the Quebec LeFleurs, whom we have long since disassociated ourselves with after many generations of ungentlemanly miscegeny on their branch of this defunct tree). Sometimes, I believe the creeping vines and Spanish moss that crack and strangle the rotting foundation of LeFleur manor have invaded the very bloodline of our clan. My brother Geoffrey, killed in the war, had political ambitions. He had hoped a spell in the army would give him the thrust to bring the Lefleur family back to the top of the political stage, though his dreams were cut down with a fusillade of German artillery. Mother always said, on that day, a mockingbird cried outside her window, and she knew her boy had passed on. My nephew Beauford was slain during our feud with the Denauve clan, may their bastard blood forever stain the earth. And my dear sister Ethel, to whom I owe for keeping my scandalous secret from father... well, we do not speak of her anymore. She has the attic all to herself and a nice window facing the weeping willows and cypresses of LeFleur Manor. Twice a week a negro woman comes to feed and clean her. We cannot bear to look at her anymore, you see, after father discovered her in a stolen tryst with the Creole boy who cleaned the stables. She had been driven mad when her forbidden love, William Denauve, was shot down by father during the blood-feud. From then on, it is my inclination to believe, she lived only to spite father, escaping her chambers at night to mix with all manner of low-blooded types in bayou grog-halls.
Oh, but how I go on! Allow me to explain the purpose of this here proposal I am extending. My father, at the ripe age of 172, has survived two Union musketballs from the War of Northern Aggression, twelve hurricanes, four duels, and integration. Yet, at last it seems the consumption that has hounded him since the winter of 1908 will finally claim him. It is his wish to see the LeFleur family line continued, a boon I am ashamed to say I am unable grant. For, you see, I have some of the... peculiarities that often accompany Southern men of great refinement. I first became aware of this on the Eve of Good Friday when I was a boy of fourteen. There was a negro boy with whom my father let me spend some time with, though always with a disapproving scowl, the son of one of the maids, I believe. As the manor was awash in revelry, while my family held a gala and the servants danced their jigs in kitchens and pantries, he kissed me beneath the gibbous April moon. Since then, I have never been able to lay eyes on woman for more than a moment, for besides my poor sister and dearly departed mother they fill me with a loathing fierce. So, I have become known as a bachelor and cad, though I suspect father knows the reason behind my refusals of the sundry marriage contracts presented to him by other high-bred families. After all, I am the parish's foremost critic of theatre and art, and my many affectations - from my velvet coat, to the cane swinging at my hip - certainly paint a clear picture of the peculiarities of which I speak.
Can you help me, before father passes into the great unknown, put his heart at ease? All I ask is that you accompany me once to dinner at the manor and help create the impression we are not repulsed by each other. Though the LeFleur fortune has dwindled (since a certain day we lost a great deal of our labor force) to a mere line of credit a name steeped in such veneration commands, we have many antiques and items of historical value I might be willing to part with once my dear father passes.
Location: Denver, LeFleur Manor
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1082742329
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-kypar-1082742329@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-03-19, 4:29PM MDT
Why hello, dear ladies. I am Henry LeFleur, of the Louisiana LeFleurs (not to be confused with the Quebec LeFleurs, whom we have long since disassociated ourselves with after many generations of ungentlemanly miscegeny on their branch of this defunct tree). Sometimes, I believe the creeping vines and Spanish moss that crack and strangle the rotting foundation of LeFleur manor have invaded the very bloodline of our clan. My brother Geoffrey, killed in the war, had political ambitions. He had hoped a spell in the army would give him the thrust to bring the Lefleur family back to the top of the political stage, though his dreams were cut down with a fusillade of German artillery. Mother always said, on that day, a mockingbird cried outside her window, and she knew her boy had passed on. My nephew Beauford was slain during our feud with the Denauve clan, may their bastard blood forever stain the earth. And my dear sister Ethel, to whom I owe for keeping my scandalous secret from father... well, we do not speak of her anymore. She has the attic all to herself and a nice window facing the weeping willows and cypresses of LeFleur Manor. Twice a week a negro woman comes to feed and clean her. We cannot bear to look at her anymore, you see, after father discovered her in a stolen tryst with the Creole boy who cleaned the stables. She had been driven mad when her forbidden love, William Denauve, was shot down by father during the blood-feud. From then on, it is my inclination to believe, she lived only to spite father, escaping her chambers at night to mix with all manner of low-blooded types in bayou grog-halls.
Oh, but how I go on! Allow me to explain the purpose of this here proposal I am extending. My father, at the ripe age of 172, has survived two Union musketballs from the War of Northern Aggression, twelve hurricanes, four duels, and integration. Yet, at last it seems the consumption that has hounded him since the winter of 1908 will finally claim him. It is his wish to see the LeFleur family line continued, a boon I am ashamed to say I am unable grant. For, you see, I have some of the... peculiarities that often accompany Southern men of great refinement. I first became aware of this on the Eve of Good Friday when I was a boy of fourteen. There was a negro boy with whom my father let me spend some time with, though always with a disapproving scowl, the son of one of the maids, I believe. As the manor was awash in revelry, while my family held a gala and the servants danced their jigs in kitchens and pantries, he kissed me beneath the gibbous April moon. Since then, I have never been able to lay eyes on woman for more than a moment, for besides my poor sister and dearly departed mother they fill me with a loathing fierce. So, I have become known as a bachelor and cad, though I suspect father knows the reason behind my refusals of the sundry marriage contracts presented to him by other high-bred families. After all, I am the parish's foremost critic of theatre and art, and my many affectations - from my velvet coat, to the cane swinging at my hip - certainly paint a clear picture of the peculiarities of which I speak.
Can you help me, before father passes into the great unknown, put his heart at ease? All I ask is that you accompany me once to dinner at the manor and help create the impression we are not repulsed by each other. Though the LeFleur fortune has dwindled (since a certain day we lost a great deal of our labor force) to a mere line of credit a name steeped in such veneration commands, we have many antiques and items of historical value I might be willing to part with once my dear father passes.
Location: Denver, LeFleur Manor
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1082742329
Monday, March 9, 2009
RE: Tell Me What Your Fantasies Are
Tell me what your fantasies are === - 25 (Denver area)
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Reply to: pers-yqy3q-1066850202@craigslist.org [Date: 2009-03-09, 8:26AM MDT
Wanna meet for a drink and see what happens? Looking to get myself into some trouble! The good kind ya know! ;-) I can be frisky when I want to be and love to have a good time. I'm 5'11", 130lbs, blondish brown hair, brown eyes, athletic build, hot body. You'll never hear me say .. Not tonight I have a headache! LOL.
Location: Denver area
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1066850202
Colin Heintze to pers-yqy3q-106
Well, lately I've had this fantasy that kinda fits in with a series of fantasies I call "The Chronicles of the Witcher". In this last one, I'm walking through Ashley Marsh (only a few miles in the shadow of Mount Chaos from the Hyrda-pits! Eek!) and I come across this friendly salamander man, and he's all wounded I'm all like "hark gentle amphibi-man, what happened thoust?". So he tells me that the mean troll bullies have been making him eat grass in front of the entire village every day after gym class. So I get my witching sword and go to the village, cause' I hate the trolls. All the girls like them cause' they got big muscles and fast steeds but if they really knew what jerks they are, and that they only get such good rides cause their dads own the steed dealership, they'd rather be with guy who will be nice to them. Anyways, I go to the village and beat up all the trolls with the witching sword, and they all say they're sorry and promise to stop making fun of me on Facebook and start picking me during dodge-ball. Then I meet Gorin, king of the kobolds and he gives me the jewel of harking, and I can talk to anyone I want wherever they are. I talk to my mom Queen Valeria and convince her to divorce evil Baron Severnus, and Severnus goes back to Florida to run his stupid propane business that nobody shops at. Then I use the jewel to find my dad, who I don't see really often because Valeria says he's a pilot. Him and Queen Valeria get married again and I move into their castle. A week later, Lady Ashley Klein who sits across from me in alchemy class asks me to marry her and I do and I touch her boob a little bit. She looks at the all the sketches I made of her in class and thinks they're really cool, and we kiss and stuff and all the trolls are really jealous and wish they were nicer to me.
Oh yeah, then I plunge her face into the toilet and brutally sodomize her while she's all like "Ooooh, you're so big, you're so big."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-yqy3q-1066850202@craigslist.org [Date: 2009-03-09, 8:26AM MDT
Wanna meet for a drink and see what happens? Looking to get myself into some trouble! The good kind ya know! ;-) I can be frisky when I want to be and love to have a good time. I'm 5'11", 130lbs, blondish brown hair, brown eyes, athletic build, hot body. You'll never hear me say .. Not tonight I have a headache! LOL.
Location: Denver area
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1066850202
Colin Heintze to pers-yqy3q-106
Well, lately I've had this fantasy that kinda fits in with a series of fantasies I call "The Chronicles of the Witcher". In this last one, I'm walking through Ashley Marsh (only a few miles in the shadow of Mount Chaos from the Hyrda-pits! Eek!) and I come across this friendly salamander man, and he's all wounded I'm all like "hark gentle amphibi-man, what happened thoust?". So he tells me that the mean troll bullies have been making him eat grass in front of the entire village every day after gym class. So I get my witching sword and go to the village, cause' I hate the trolls. All the girls like them cause' they got big muscles and fast steeds but if they really knew what jerks they are, and that they only get such good rides cause their dads own the steed dealership, they'd rather be with guy who will be nice to them. Anyways, I go to the village and beat up all the trolls with the witching sword, and they all say they're sorry and promise to stop making fun of me on Facebook and start picking me during dodge-ball. Then I meet Gorin, king of the kobolds and he gives me the jewel of harking, and I can talk to anyone I want wherever they are. I talk to my mom Queen Valeria and convince her to divorce evil Baron Severnus, and Severnus goes back to Florida to run his stupid propane business that nobody shops at. Then I use the jewel to find my dad, who I don't see really often because Valeria says he's a pilot. Him and Queen Valeria get married again and I move into their castle. A week later, Lady Ashley Klein who sits across from me in alchemy class asks me to marry her and I do and I touch her boob a little bit. She looks at the all the sketches I made of her in class and thinks they're really cool, and we kiss and stuff and all the trolls are really jealous and wish they were nicer to me.
Oh yeah, then I plunge her face into the toilet and brutally sodomize her while she's all like "Ooooh, you're so big, you're so big."
Sunday, March 8, 2009
The Blackwater Fortune is in Peril!
The Blackwater Fortune is in Peril! - 25 (Denver)
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Reply to: pers-kgjft-1065892627@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-08, 1:27PM MDT
The deadline is rapidly approaching, comely lasses, for which I can marry and claim the remainder of my father's fortune. Allow me to explain, for those of you who have not seen my previous posts.
My name is Anton Kimble Blackwater of the venerable Blackwater family of New England. I am the son of an American rubber magnate and Spanish wet nurse, though let me assure you my life has been anything but privileged. Childhood was a time of diligent instruction and self-improvement, led by the efforts of my late father. My studies ranged from metaphysical tutelage under Hanno of Alexandria to the martial sciences under Karl Von Berstauffen, last Marshall of Prussia. Unfortunately, as a young man, my father was murdered at the hands of my half-brother Cecil, the same villain whose mother, a Creole and practitioner of Hoodoo rites, stole a lock of my father's hair to weave grave sorceries upon him. This unnatural union resulted in Cecil, who not only murdered my beloved sire but has since conscripted every manner of mercenary scum to remove me. The current challenge I am confronting is a hitherto-unknown stipulation in the fine print of my father's will that, If I do not marry by this time next year, the remainder of his holdings will revert to nefarious Cecil. Obviously, I cannot allow this happen. I have survived too many attempts on my life by Yakuza hitmen and Chechen mercenaries to allow Cecil to claim my inheritance through some legal obscuration!
Thus, I need a wife. Man-servant Mandalay says my standards are far too high, that I will never find a woman who is my peer in Tantric meditation, acrobatics, tomb-hunting, or Tagalog knife forms. Though I trust Mandalay's wisdom on all things, I cannot help but be skeptical of this advice: he took vows to Zoroastrian demiurges at age twelve, remaining a virgin in return for prowess in battle. So, his advice concerning the nature of women may be uneducated. Yet, everywhere I look, I find women incapable of performing even the most basic of tasks, such as wielding a sabre or deciphering a Codex incised in Koine Greek! Perhaps when I begin to see returns from the string of silver mines I've recently opened in the Chilean highlands, I will invest more money into public education!
There is another aspect of this overture I am compelled to mention - a more personal one. For, although my father's estate is my chief concern, I also seek a woman for these... yearnings of mine. A life cultivating my spirit and intellect in far-flung monasteries, tribal war rituals, and Hollywood galas has left me little time to pursue relationships. Every time I wake up next to a beautiful young starlet in a Corsican luxury liner, a Brazilian supermodel on a silken mattress, or a comely primatologist on a bed of leaves neath' the fierce sun of the Ugandan highlands, I feel an emptiness in me. For, I am a man and as such must pursue pleasure, though the shame I feel in associating myself with such common riff-raff no doubt has my father in hysterics somewhere in the vaulted chambers of the Blackwater mausoleum. Are you the beautiful academic/mystic/tactician/business magnate I am seeking? If so, reply post-haste! Cecil is already beginning to measure the curtains!
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1065892627
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-kgjft-1065892627@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-08, 1:27PM MDT
The deadline is rapidly approaching, comely lasses, for which I can marry and claim the remainder of my father's fortune. Allow me to explain, for those of you who have not seen my previous posts.
My name is Anton Kimble Blackwater of the venerable Blackwater family of New England. I am the son of an American rubber magnate and Spanish wet nurse, though let me assure you my life has been anything but privileged. Childhood was a time of diligent instruction and self-improvement, led by the efforts of my late father. My studies ranged from metaphysical tutelage under Hanno of Alexandria to the martial sciences under Karl Von Berstauffen, last Marshall of Prussia. Unfortunately, as a young man, my father was murdered at the hands of my half-brother Cecil, the same villain whose mother, a Creole and practitioner of Hoodoo rites, stole a lock of my father's hair to weave grave sorceries upon him. This unnatural union resulted in Cecil, who not only murdered my beloved sire but has since conscripted every manner of mercenary scum to remove me. The current challenge I am confronting is a hitherto-unknown stipulation in the fine print of my father's will that, If I do not marry by this time next year, the remainder of his holdings will revert to nefarious Cecil. Obviously, I cannot allow this happen. I have survived too many attempts on my life by Yakuza hitmen and Chechen mercenaries to allow Cecil to claim my inheritance through some legal obscuration!
Thus, I need a wife. Man-servant Mandalay says my standards are far too high, that I will never find a woman who is my peer in Tantric meditation, acrobatics, tomb-hunting, or Tagalog knife forms. Though I trust Mandalay's wisdom on all things, I cannot help but be skeptical of this advice: he took vows to Zoroastrian demiurges at age twelve, remaining a virgin in return for prowess in battle. So, his advice concerning the nature of women may be uneducated. Yet, everywhere I look, I find women incapable of performing even the most basic of tasks, such as wielding a sabre or deciphering a Codex incised in Koine Greek! Perhaps when I begin to see returns from the string of silver mines I've recently opened in the Chilean highlands, I will invest more money into public education!
There is another aspect of this overture I am compelled to mention - a more personal one. For, although my father's estate is my chief concern, I also seek a woman for these... yearnings of mine. A life cultivating my spirit and intellect in far-flung monasteries, tribal war rituals, and Hollywood galas has left me little time to pursue relationships. Every time I wake up next to a beautiful young starlet in a Corsican luxury liner, a Brazilian supermodel on a silken mattress, or a comely primatologist on a bed of leaves neath' the fierce sun of the Ugandan highlands, I feel an emptiness in me. For, I am a man and as such must pursue pleasure, though the shame I feel in associating myself with such common riff-raff no doubt has my father in hysterics somewhere in the vaulted chambers of the Blackwater mausoleum. Are you the beautiful academic/mystic/tactician/business magnate I am seeking? If so, reply post-haste! Cecil is already beginning to measure the curtains!
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1065892627
Thursday, March 5, 2009
RE: Is There an Alpha Male Out There?
Is there an alpha male out there? - 28 (Denver)
Reply to: pers-uekvd-1062088379@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-05, 4:02PM MST
A. I highly doubt I'll find the kind of man I'm looking for on here, so if you respond don't waste my time and don't start sniffling when I don't respond.
B. I'm real, it is gorgeous outside and we just look a great news source last week.
I've realized I can only be happy with an alpha male type. I am very strong, independent and confident. Most men think they can handle me and a few fool me for a while, but they eventually show their soft side and I lose interest. If you are a real alpha male type than prove it to me. How do I know you are not a faker?
I do have pics and will send them when I feel comfortable and trust me I am hot enough for you. Slender with curves where you want them.
Bye boys!
Colin Heintze to pers-uekvd-1062088379@craigslist.org
If you want an alpha male, than look no further bitch (get used to me calling you that, by the way). I wear a barbed wire necktie, use live rattlesnakes for condoms, and drive an M1-A1 Abrahm's tank I took from some pussy in the army who was dumb enough to look me in the eyes, which are made of chrome and lightning. I do what I want when I want, and if someone gets in my way I send them crying back to their mother's bosoms, which I proceed to motor-boat in front of them. I've made three of the world's highest mountains my bitch, have invaded Mexico because they made too much noise when I had a hangover, and once killed an entire town because I was stuck waiting at a red light. That's just what you get when you're with a cold-eyed, dominant killer and revolutionary poet like myself: action - hard, fast, and non-consensual.
I once dated this girl who said I am like a cookie; hard on the outside and soft in the middle. This pissed me off so much I sold her into prostitution. I'm more like an onion - you can keep peeling away the layers, but at the end you're left with nothing, you're crying, and you need to wash your hands. Of course, I wouldn't know cause' only pussies eat vegetables, and I eat nothing but the toughest uncooked portions of endangered species I have slain with my bare hands. So, if you think you can handle that, get back to me. If you're good enough, I may allow you to adore me.
K J to me
Lol, that was fucking funny. I like your style, but if you ever call me a bitch again you are going to lose those little pebbles that allow you to breed. Got it sweetie? Good.
Got a pic?
Colin Heintze to K
You know, I like your style too. You have exactly the inflated sense of self worth, obvious inability to form strong emotional bonds, and hard-edged, solipsistic lack of empathy I look for in a woman. As for my balls, as you will soon find out... they are huge. Just one fold of my epic scrotum is enough to wrap a refrigerator for Christmas. My sperm are the size of tadpoles and can survive in only 100 proof whiskey. My pubic hairs are like acupuncture needles, and support an ecosystem of bird and reptile life specific to my mighty groin.
Here's that picture you wanted. Try not to ejaculate all over the keyboard, wouldn't you?
Reply to: pers-uekvd-1062088379@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-05, 4:02PM MST
A. I highly doubt I'll find the kind of man I'm looking for on here, so if you respond don't waste my time and don't start sniffling when I don't respond.
B. I'm real, it is gorgeous outside and we just look a great news source last week.
I've realized I can only be happy with an alpha male type. I am very strong, independent and confident. Most men think they can handle me and a few fool me for a while, but they eventually show their soft side and I lose interest. If you are a real alpha male type than prove it to me. How do I know you are not a faker?
I do have pics and will send them when I feel comfortable and trust me I am hot enough for you. Slender with curves where you want them.
Bye boys!
Colin Heintze to pers-uekvd-1062088379@craigslist.org
If you want an alpha male, than look no further bitch (get used to me calling you that, by the way). I wear a barbed wire necktie, use live rattlesnakes for condoms, and drive an M1-A1 Abrahm's tank I took from some pussy in the army who was dumb enough to look me in the eyes, which are made of chrome and lightning. I do what I want when I want, and if someone gets in my way I send them crying back to their mother's bosoms, which I proceed to motor-boat in front of them. I've made three of the world's highest mountains my bitch, have invaded Mexico because they made too much noise when I had a hangover, and once killed an entire town because I was stuck waiting at a red light. That's just what you get when you're with a cold-eyed, dominant killer and revolutionary poet like myself: action - hard, fast, and non-consensual.
I once dated this girl who said I am like a cookie; hard on the outside and soft in the middle. This pissed me off so much I sold her into prostitution. I'm more like an onion - you can keep peeling away the layers, but at the end you're left with nothing, you're crying, and you need to wash your hands. Of course, I wouldn't know cause' only pussies eat vegetables, and I eat nothing but the toughest uncooked portions of endangered species I have slain with my bare hands. So, if you think you can handle that, get back to me. If you're good enough, I may allow you to adore me.
K J to me
Lol, that was fucking funny. I like your style, but if you ever call me a bitch again you are going to lose those little pebbles that allow you to breed. Got it sweetie? Good.
Got a pic?
Colin Heintze to K
You know, I like your style too. You have exactly the inflated sense of self worth, obvious inability to form strong emotional bonds, and hard-edged, solipsistic lack of empathy I look for in a woman. As for my balls, as you will soon find out... they are huge. Just one fold of my epic scrotum is enough to wrap a refrigerator for Christmas. My sperm are the size of tadpoles and can survive in only 100 proof whiskey. My pubic hairs are like acupuncture needles, and support an ecosystem of bird and reptile life specific to my mighty groin.
Here's that picture you wanted. Try not to ejaculate all over the keyboard, wouldn't you?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Seeking a Non-Basque Woman (Or, How to Get Flagged Within Minutes)
Seeking a Non-Basque Woman - 25 (Denver)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-ebdne-1060671368@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-04, 4:41PM MST
Good Afternoon! I'm a fit, attractive, creative man in my mid-twenties who just got out of a relationship and am looking for a change! I'm open to pretty much all shapes, sizes, and types with one notable exception -I absolutely, emphatically will not accept a drop of filthy Basque blood in any potential girlfriend.
Let me explain: ever since I was a child, I have loathed and abhorred that race of stinking demi-humans known as the Basque. Every time I hear their halting, panting, cro-magnon "language" I want to puke my goddamn guts out. I hate their fucking flat faces, sloped foreheads, and greasy sausage lips. I wretch when I smell their foul odor of mutton and tears of their sexually abused children, of which they have many. So, if you have any Basque in you at all (or are uncertain), don't bother reading on you goddamn repulsive troglodyte.
Here's a good Basque joke: what's the difference between a Basque and a putrifying heap of pig's guts? The pig's guts doesn't sodomize its children on their thirteenth birthdays.
Okay, not a really clever joke, but if you are a non-Basque and go out with me I promise I'll have better. It's just hard to joke about those proto-simian abominations from the Pyrennes, ya know? Did you know that in the 50's and 60's a bunch of ranchers (read: race traitors) in Wyoming brought over a bunch of mutton-eating Basque bastards to work as ranch hands? That's right, in only the next state there are smelly Basque "people" trundling over OUR land with their clumsy pacyderm feet, breathing OUR air with their flared, filth-encrusted nostrils, and, oh god, putting their broad, hairy hands and stubby, covetous little fingers over the bosoms of OUR American women. I just threw up a little in my mouth.
So, if you are not a goddamn fucking Basque, don't molest children, don't eat mutton, and have never blown up a train station, I would be delighted to meet you. Dinner, drinks dancing, whatever - I'm very open minded.
Oh, and also no Jews.
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1060671368
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Reply to: pers-ebdne-1060671368@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-04, 4:41PM MST
Good Afternoon! I'm a fit, attractive, creative man in my mid-twenties who just got out of a relationship and am looking for a change! I'm open to pretty much all shapes, sizes, and types with one notable exception -I absolutely, emphatically will not accept a drop of filthy Basque blood in any potential girlfriend.
Let me explain: ever since I was a child, I have loathed and abhorred that race of stinking demi-humans known as the Basque. Every time I hear their halting, panting, cro-magnon "language" I want to puke my goddamn guts out. I hate their fucking flat faces, sloped foreheads, and greasy sausage lips. I wretch when I smell their foul odor of mutton and tears of their sexually abused children, of which they have many. So, if you have any Basque in you at all (or are uncertain), don't bother reading on you goddamn repulsive troglodyte.
Here's a good Basque joke: what's the difference between a Basque and a putrifying heap of pig's guts? The pig's guts doesn't sodomize its children on their thirteenth birthdays.
Okay, not a really clever joke, but if you are a non-Basque and go out with me I promise I'll have better. It's just hard to joke about those proto-simian abominations from the Pyrennes, ya know? Did you know that in the 50's and 60's a bunch of ranchers (read: race traitors) in Wyoming brought over a bunch of mutton-eating Basque bastards to work as ranch hands? That's right, in only the next state there are smelly Basque "people" trundling over OUR land with their clumsy pacyderm feet, breathing OUR air with their flared, filth-encrusted nostrils, and, oh god, putting their broad, hairy hands and stubby, covetous little fingers over the bosoms of OUR American women. I just threw up a little in my mouth.
So, if you are not a goddamn fucking Basque, don't molest children, don't eat mutton, and have never blown up a train station, I would be delighted to meet you. Dinner, drinks dancing, whatever - I'm very open minded.
Oh, and also no Jews.
Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1060671368
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Dating With Lycanthropy
Dating With Lycanthropy - 25 (Denver)
Reply to: pers-2reab-1059566865@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-03, 11:40PM MST
Hi there, everybody.
I've seen a lot of ads here for people with herpes trying to find others, so I thought I'd take the one in a million shot on the internet hoping I'd find a woman who shares my condition.
It started, I suppose, how these things usually do. I was a tourist in Montenegro, wrapping up the last leg of my post-college European tour. My friend Geoff and I had been to all the usual touristy places - the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Spanish Steps in Rome, the beer halls in Munich - and with only two weeks left we found these cookie-cutter tourist experience had not shown us anything of the REAL Europe. We were trying to find ourselves, though what we found... I don't know if I can go on.
On a whim, Geoff and I decided to visit the Balkans region to find some semblance of genuine European culture. We quickly found Montenegro crassly commercial, and decided to backpack to the most remote part of the map in hopes of drawing some genuine experience from our journey. In hindsight, we should have listened to the warnings of the old gypsy palm reader. The region had been plagued with mass disappearances for decades, blamed mostly on the wars or roving bands of Chetnik militia. Geoff and I paid no heed, even when we were treated with scowls from the inhospitable and superstitious peasantry of the region.
Then, one night laying beneath the stars, we heard a rustling in the woods. Geoff got up to investigate and... my god, I still can't forget the shrieks in the night and tearing, dripping sounds from the treeline. I ran as fast as I could, but did not make it far - a panting, burly thing tackled me from behind and bit savagely into my shoulder. Had I known then what I was in store for, I might not have shot the flaregun into it's frothing, snarling face, thus frightening it away into the night from whence it came.
I picked myself up and dragged myself to the nearest settlement, where the villagers ran screaming from me, shut their doors, and closed their shudders. Bewildered, a wandered the roads until a visiting British dignitary found me and drove me to hospital. This is where I experienced the first symptom of my condition, for upon arriving at the medic's office my wounds had healed completely, despite being near-fatal injuries only the night before. My story was regarded skeptically, and I was accused of being on drugs - when the doctor even suggested that I had murdered Geoff, I leapt through the window and fled, surprised at my newfound agility and speed.
So, if you have a similar story, please contact me. I'm sick of waking up naked every morning after a full moon next to a heap of carnage and praying, "God, let it just be a deer this time". I'm tired of never having a relationship for fear one night I will savagely maul my lover in a frenzy of bestial rage. Most of all, I'm sick of having to pull handfulls of hair out of the drain every morning.
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1059566865
Reply to: pers-2reab-1059566865@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-03, 11:40PM MST
Hi there, everybody.
I've seen a lot of ads here for people with herpes trying to find others, so I thought I'd take the one in a million shot on the internet hoping I'd find a woman who shares my condition.
It started, I suppose, how these things usually do. I was a tourist in Montenegro, wrapping up the last leg of my post-college European tour. My friend Geoff and I had been to all the usual touristy places - the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Spanish Steps in Rome, the beer halls in Munich - and with only two weeks left we found these cookie-cutter tourist experience had not shown us anything of the REAL Europe. We were trying to find ourselves, though what we found... I don't know if I can go on.
On a whim, Geoff and I decided to visit the Balkans region to find some semblance of genuine European culture. We quickly found Montenegro crassly commercial, and decided to backpack to the most remote part of the map in hopes of drawing some genuine experience from our journey. In hindsight, we should have listened to the warnings of the old gypsy palm reader. The region had been plagued with mass disappearances for decades, blamed mostly on the wars or roving bands of Chetnik militia. Geoff and I paid no heed, even when we were treated with scowls from the inhospitable and superstitious peasantry of the region.
Then, one night laying beneath the stars, we heard a rustling in the woods. Geoff got up to investigate and... my god, I still can't forget the shrieks in the night and tearing, dripping sounds from the treeline. I ran as fast as I could, but did not make it far - a panting, burly thing tackled me from behind and bit savagely into my shoulder. Had I known then what I was in store for, I might not have shot the flaregun into it's frothing, snarling face, thus frightening it away into the night from whence it came.
I picked myself up and dragged myself to the nearest settlement, where the villagers ran screaming from me, shut their doors, and closed their shudders. Bewildered, a wandered the roads until a visiting British dignitary found me and drove me to hospital. This is where I experienced the first symptom of my condition, for upon arriving at the medic's office my wounds had healed completely, despite being near-fatal injuries only the night before. My story was regarded skeptically, and I was accused of being on drugs - when the doctor even suggested that I had murdered Geoff, I leapt through the window and fled, surprised at my newfound agility and speed.
So, if you have a similar story, please contact me. I'm sick of waking up naked every morning after a full moon next to a heap of carnage and praying, "God, let it just be a deer this time". I'm tired of never having a relationship for fear one night I will savagely maul my lover in a frenzy of bestial rage. Most of all, I'm sick of having to pull handfulls of hair out of the drain every morning.
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1059566865
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Young Women Needed For Slumber Party
Young Women Needed For Slumber Party - 25 (Denver)
Reply to: pers-1046273996@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-02-22, 8:15PM MST
Not sure I should be posting here, but the deadline is coming up and I need people fast.
So, here's the deal: two months ago, my enigmatic uncle died under mysterious circumstances. I never knew my uncle well - my father, for reasons unknown, always kept me away from him, and had instructed me since childhood to shun his company. So, I was surprised when three weeks ago I got a call from my late uncle's attorney informing me that I stood to inherit all of his vast wealth, provided myself and three women spent one night alone in his abandoned mansion in the swamp. This is where you come in - my uncle was very specific about what kind of women needed to accompany me. The will says I need:
-one innocent, doe-eyed girl of eighteen. Preferably a virgin with a arrogant, jocky boyfriend.
-one promiscuous young coed, prone to getting naked and making lewd sexual advances.
-one best friend of the doe-eyed virgin.
The other houseguests, a black man who will say "daaamn!", a socially awkward and horny nerd, and a crude party animal I have already gotten myself.
I would not be turning to craigslist if not for the fact that my uncle's will stipulated this sleep-over be held on the "eve of Baphomet, when the planets in the house of Aires are aligned" or something like that. Of course, for your trouble you will be compensated from the riches I stand to inherit. Overall, I predict an uneventful evening. After all, what could go wrong just from spending one night in a mansion built by members of the Golden Dawn over the site of an Indian massacre, inhabited these last forty years by my mentally ill, occult-obsessed uncle, on the one-hundredth anniversary of a notorious unsolved murder? We'll probably just play "seven minutes in heaven" and break out the old ouija board, so sorry if I can't offer you more excitement! Please get back to me soon, or my uncle's entire fortune will revert to the withered old groundskeeper who continually utters cryptic warnings, and we don't want that, not when I could use all that dough on drugs, rock music, and fast cars!
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1046273996
Reply to: pers-1046273996@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-02-22, 8:15PM MST
Not sure I should be posting here, but the deadline is coming up and I need people fast.
So, here's the deal: two months ago, my enigmatic uncle died under mysterious circumstances. I never knew my uncle well - my father, for reasons unknown, always kept me away from him, and had instructed me since childhood to shun his company. So, I was surprised when three weeks ago I got a call from my late uncle's attorney informing me that I stood to inherit all of his vast wealth, provided myself and three women spent one night alone in his abandoned mansion in the swamp. This is where you come in - my uncle was very specific about what kind of women needed to accompany me. The will says I need:
-one innocent, doe-eyed girl of eighteen. Preferably a virgin with a arrogant, jocky boyfriend.
-one promiscuous young coed, prone to getting naked and making lewd sexual advances.
-one best friend of the doe-eyed virgin.
The other houseguests, a black man who will say "daaamn!", a socially awkward and horny nerd, and a crude party animal I have already gotten myself.
I would not be turning to craigslist if not for the fact that my uncle's will stipulated this sleep-over be held on the "eve of Baphomet, when the planets in the house of Aires are aligned" or something like that. Of course, for your trouble you will be compensated from the riches I stand to inherit. Overall, I predict an uneventful evening. After all, what could go wrong just from spending one night in a mansion built by members of the Golden Dawn over the site of an Indian massacre, inhabited these last forty years by my mentally ill, occult-obsessed uncle, on the one-hundredth anniversary of a notorious unsolved murder? We'll probably just play "seven minutes in heaven" and break out the old ouija board, so sorry if I can't offer you more excitement! Please get back to me soon, or my uncle's entire fortune will revert to the withered old groundskeeper who continually utters cryptic warnings, and we don't want that, not when I could use all that dough on drugs, rock music, and fast cars!
* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1046273996
Sunday, February 15, 2009
RE: Are you expressive, enticing, erudite, erotic and ebullient?
→ Are you expressive, enticing, erudite, erotic and ebullient? - 55 (Denver)
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Reply to: pers-1033080845@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2009-02-13, 9:03AM MST
Cool. That makes two of us. lol
Let me give you a bit of rare insight into the man, the myth, the mirth behind the posting -- I'm a very youthful, fit, irreverent and creative "wingnut" who relishes the humor of Mel Brooks, the Coen brothers, Steven Wright and Monty Python (and wildly irreverent/offbeat humor in general). If you can relate to any of that, we’re off to a great start. (Now put the candle BACK…then bring me a shrubbery!)
Call me crazy -- and you'd hardly be the first -- but I prefer someone who also has more than a rudimentary grasp of English and knows, for example, that "syntax" has nothing to do with morals or the IRS! (I envision you either rubbing your hands together giddily or making the sign of the cross as one would when confronted by a vampire...lol. Should your reaction be closer to the former than the latter, I suspect we'll get along famously.)
I'm a happily self-employed advertising writer with a very flexible schedule and a 10-foot commute to the office. I'm from Boston originally, although I've shed 99% of the accent along with 100% of the moss that used to grow on the north side of my head. I'm kinda brawny, occasionally brainy, openly bath-friendly, relatively barnacle/baggage-free AND I can count to 21 without being naked. (Not everyone gets that last little bit of fun, but extra points if YOU do!)
By the way, ever wonder why refried beans aren't fit to be eaten after they're cooked once? Ever indulge in a rousing bit of people-watching....with running commentary? Do you prefer to tilt your head to right or left when you kiss? (Your answer will not be taken as an indication of political leaning!) I'm as naturally curious as a cub scout in a lingerie shop.
I workout regularly and enjoy travel, scuba, movies, Scrabble, garage sales, photography, tennis, ice skating, hiking, golf and even camping and fishing once in a blue moon.
I seek a reasonably fit and attractive n/s woman without young kids at home who laughs easily, is affectionate and knows the value of living life with a "half full" outlook. She takes pride in her health and appearance and doesn't take life or herself too seriously. She relishes the idea of sharing the glorious little joys and absurdities of life, love, sex and gender.
Now for my philosophy of life: As long as the world is spinning, we'll all be too dizzy to get everything straight, so quit crabbin' and just enjoy the ride!
Also, since it seems that many women (even quite petite ones) place a priority on a man's height, let me state for the record that I'm a towering 5' 5" (lol). If that fact doesn't faze you, please reciprocate with your own photo (or two). Thanks.
Me Book Have Thesaurus Also!
Colin Heintze to pers-1033080845
show details 2:25 PM (2 minutes ago) Reply
I see an interesting article and I'm more than happy that people feel pretentious Stumbled life and business travel. We describe enthusiastic, effusive and so ebullient. But for all I have also studied brain impatient and I know. My tastes run the beautiful paradox of non-face comedy in a variety gourmet sybaritic pleasures and good vivant. I think that just because I new Raconteur and I can not ignore my sensual side and become known filthy, raunchy. and when circumstances warrant anatomical. If this is something that interests you, the end of the other ads as soon as possible.*
*the preceding was translated from English to Tagalog, Tagalog to Greek, Greek to Thai, and back to English again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-1033080845@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2009-02-13, 9:03AM MST
Cool. That makes two of us. lol
Let me give you a bit of rare insight into the man, the myth, the mirth behind the posting -- I'm a very youthful, fit, irreverent and creative "wingnut" who relishes the humor of Mel Brooks, the Coen brothers, Steven Wright and Monty Python (and wildly irreverent/offbeat humor in general). If you can relate to any of that, we’re off to a great start. (Now put the candle BACK…then bring me a shrubbery!)
Call me crazy -- and you'd hardly be the first -- but I prefer someone who also has more than a rudimentary grasp of English and knows, for example, that "syntax" has nothing to do with morals or the IRS! (I envision you either rubbing your hands together giddily or making the sign of the cross as one would when confronted by a vampire...lol. Should your reaction be closer to the former than the latter, I suspect we'll get along famously.)
I'm a happily self-employed advertising writer with a very flexible schedule and a 10-foot commute to the office. I'm from Boston originally, although I've shed 99% of the accent along with 100% of the moss that used to grow on the north side of my head. I'm kinda brawny, occasionally brainy, openly bath-friendly, relatively barnacle/baggage-free AND I can count to 21 without being naked. (Not everyone gets that last little bit of fun, but extra points if YOU do!)
By the way, ever wonder why refried beans aren't fit to be eaten after they're cooked once? Ever indulge in a rousing bit of people-watching....with running commentary? Do you prefer to tilt your head to right or left when you kiss? (Your answer will not be taken as an indication of political leaning!) I'm as naturally curious as a cub scout in a lingerie shop.
I workout regularly and enjoy travel, scuba, movies, Scrabble, garage sales, photography, tennis, ice skating, hiking, golf and even camping and fishing once in a blue moon.
I seek a reasonably fit and attractive n/s woman without young kids at home who laughs easily, is affectionate and knows the value of living life with a "half full" outlook. She takes pride in her health and appearance and doesn't take life or herself too seriously. She relishes the idea of sharing the glorious little joys and absurdities of life, love, sex and gender.
Now for my philosophy of life: As long as the world is spinning, we'll all be too dizzy to get everything straight, so quit crabbin' and just enjoy the ride!
Also, since it seems that many women (even quite petite ones) place a priority on a man's height, let me state for the record that I'm a towering 5' 5" (lol). If that fact doesn't faze you, please reciprocate with your own photo (or two). Thanks.
Me Book Have Thesaurus Also!
Colin Heintze to pers-1033080845
show details 2:25 PM (2 minutes ago) Reply
I see an interesting article and I'm more than happy that people feel pretentious Stumbled life and business travel. We describe enthusiastic, effusive and so ebullient. But for all I have also studied brain impatient and I know. My tastes run the beautiful paradox of non-face comedy in a variety gourmet sybaritic pleasures and good vivant. I think that just because I new Raconteur and I can not ignore my sensual side and become known filthy, raunchy. and when circumstances warrant anatomical. If this is something that interests you, the end of the other ads as soon as possible.*
*the preceding was translated from English to Tagalog, Tagalog to Greek, Greek to Thai, and back to English again.
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