RE: Any Good ole Boys?

Any Good ole boys? - 22 (My computer..Duh!)

Date: 2011-01-19, 10:40AM MST
Reply to: pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX@craigslist.org

Well lets get right to the point......
I'm 22 and I have a job
I have a car
I'm pretty redneck but have a rock n' roll/biker side.
I'd love if you have a job too. I dont wanna have to pay for everything nor do I want you to pay for everything.
I LOVE country music.
I like my men tall and on the bigger side.
I'm kind of chubby but in a cute way.
I want someone who can make me laugh and is a gentlemen.
I'm a red head just an f.y.i.
I'm a total smart ass!
I have tattoos and piercings.
Bad girl on Friday night, Church girl on Sunday.
I'm a tough chick but still have a girly side
Any takers?
NO PIC NO REPLY! PUT A LINE FROM YOUR FAVORITE SONG IN THE SUBJECT SO I KNOW YOUR REAL (bonus points if its a country song : )

Location: My computer..Duh!
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 2168755514

...And They Call Me Warrior
Colin Heintze to pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.
show details 11:27 PM (2 minutes ago)



Yep, that’s my favorite song right there, because that’s what I am: a warrior. I’m a patriot, a freedom-lover, and soldier of Christ, and anyone who doesn’t like it can’t come crying to me when they end up in one of Saddam’s rape-rooms.
Anyways, you want a good ole’ boy, you found one. I’m originally from Oklahoma, near the Texas border. I’m one-quarter Cherokee Indian, two-quarters Irish, one quarter Union, and one-quarter Confederate. My grandmother says I have a little black in me, though when I was a kid me and my friend Jeremy would see who could swim across Bailey’s Pond the fastest and I would always win by three, four seconds – so I seriously doubt some ancestor of mine was getting up to any misceginatin’.

So yeah, I’m looking for a girl. It’s hard finding a girl. Most nights, if I’m feeling a little excitable, me and my cousin Jim have to drive down county road 6, all the way to where it dead-ends past the Miller Ranch. After that, we flash our headlights three times into the bushes and wait. Sometimes they never come. Sometimes, we only have to wait two minutes and they start coming out of the bushes, those Fern girls, all dressed up in their Sunday finest all besmirched with axle grease and river clay and giving hand-jobs for a few vicodens or a jar of corn-mash. No one’s seen their daddy for ages – folks around the bait shop say he got a little too fresh with his youngest one night and she had to put him down with a claw-hammer – so ain’t no one afraid of him raising hell over his daughters being used that way. Heck, he was the one who turned them on to it in the first place. Him and his wife, that was Tilda Fern, not to be confused with the Tilda Fern across the border in Tulia, just kept on having kids figuring that, the more dependents they got, the more they get from the welfare every month. Of course, they was trying to turn a profit, so they didn’t exactly spend much of it on the girl’s upbringing. Back when Clay Aires was hitting the meth pretty hard, he said he broke into the Fern’s basement and saw it was full of ratty old mattresses, and there was jars on the shelves with these little dead babies, some of which had two faces, or three eyes, or a pair of unmentionables, one male and one female. Of course, Clay hasn’t been right in the head since he got kicked by his uncle’s horse, but it would sure explain what made those Fern girls the way they are. Point is, I don’t want to get hand-jobs in a forest by the local folklore, I want a real girlfriend!

Like I said, I’m a patriot and a Christian. Mind you, I don’t care much for going to church, but I’m Christian in the sense that it is something familiar to me I can use as a means feel outraged at people who have and opinion in conflict with my very limited view of the world. Ditto on the patriot part. Obama can go back to Africa when he tells me I shouldn’t love America. I met a foreigner once. He was all dark and had these short little legs and curly hair and was jabbering at me in this language. His shirt was torn open and bloody and it looked like he’d been walking for hours, and he kept asking me to take him to a hospital. So, you know what I did? I left him right there on the road cause we don’t need no more foreigners going to our hospitals and spending our tax money to fix their problems. The next day, I heard he was actually the new algebra professor for the community college. Seems he got hit by a drunk-driver and staggered ten miles from the accident site before dying on the road. The newspaper said he was from Bangladesh, which I guess is part of China, so we lucked out not having another commie in town along with those pinkos at the Southern Poverty Law Center, plus we don’t need no one teaching our kids no foreign math. We’ve done fine by American math so far, and I don’t see reason to change.

But, I ramble, which I tend to do ever since last winter. I was varnishing an old tool-chest in January, and believe me when I tell you that there can be some nasty cold-spells in a panhandle January. So, I had the garage sealed up tight so I wouldn’t catch cold, when suddenly I start feeling… dizzy. Then, my grandmother comes in and starts asking me about the muffins, cept grandma’s been dead for fifteen years now. When I got out of the coma, this doctor tells me I damaged a part of my brain damaged a part of my brain damged my brain and my mind might wander from time to time. So there’s that. What was I talking about?

The Encyclopedia of Assholes is Up!

Greetings, fellow seekers of the new flesh.

You may have noticed it's been about a month since my last post. Allow me to explain:
1) Shut up.
2) Being bitter and lonely is a full-time job.
3) Shut up.
4) I've been working on a super-secret new project, and like another super-secret project, it ends with the phrase "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds". It's called The Encyclopedia of Assholes, the everyman's handy reference book to those people, places, and animals that make the thought of death seem like a sweet release. So, for the literally tens of fans of this page, head on over to http://encyclopediaofassholes.blogspot.com/ for even more hate-filled nihilism. Oh, and don't be a jerk - become a follower, and leave comments... especially if it's a hateful comment. In the meantime, I will still be doing Epic Date Fail, since I know that, for many of you, EDF is your only brief reprieve from your lives of quiet desperation. Enjoy, and keep reaching for the stars!

RE: Submissive seeks direction, control, and guidance

Submissive seeks direction, control, and guidance - 22 (Vail Valley)

Date: 2010-12-23, 9:26PM MST
Reply to: pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX@craigslist.org

22 year old directionless ski bum seeks older, mature, experienced long-term companion capable of providing direction, control, and guidance. I am ideally seeking someone who has the time to invest in me and is willing to mold me into the person that I aught to be. Not looking for a no-strings attached or one-night stand type relationship. Please be single - married, engaged, in a relationship is NOT acceptable. You should be experienced in this type of relationship (I am not but eager to learn), trust-worthy, and mature. Willing to answer questions and discuss further. Please read above before contacting.

Location: Vail Valley
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 2127810331

RE: Submissive seeks direction, control, and guidance

Colin Heintze to pers-kxuxx-212.
show details 12:52 AM (5 minutes ago)

Hello, my name is Park Jin Soo, regional sales manager of Samsung Corporation and recent transplant to Denver. I was so happy to see your post – in the four months I’ve lived in America, I haven’t had much luck with the women here. I liked things much better at home, where women only went to college for three reasons: to become a flight attendant, a hairdresser, or to meet a husband with earning potential. These American girls… why, they are more like boys, what with their interests, opinions, and ambition!

I mean, the one and only woman I slept with here had an orgasm. An orgasm! I want someone to keep a tidy household, not some whore.

That’s why I was so happy to read your post. Women here just don’t know how to be women, how to be told what to do by older males until they are perfectly molded into a narrowly-defined, socially acceptable vision of proper femininity. Women should know not to speak out of turn. A woman’s top priority should be to keep a neat and attractive physical appearance. And, for god’s sake, when I come home from a twelve-hour shift at the company my parents shaped me since birth to work at, there had better be some fucking kimchee on the table. Since you’ll only really be allowed to leave the home to go grocery shopping, it shouldn’t be so hard to put a little kimchee in a bowl on the floor for when I arrive home after a night of heavy consumption and whoring at one of my company’s many mandatory drinking parties.

Anyways, I think I can give you the direction your life is needing. We Koreans are experts of the life plan. Let’s see… you’re 22, so you should just be graduating from Stanford with a degree in business finance, right? That means sometime last year you lost your virginity to your platonic boyfriend after he got drunk and date-raped you in the back seat of his car. Thus, you should be married within the next three years, preferably to a rising young star in the Hyundai, Lotte, or Samsung companies. Hmmm…. I wonder who is a rising star in one of those companies? Oh, that’s right, I am. So, I suppose this is the right time to ask:

In three years, will you marry me? I want you to be the mother of my two children, four and six years from now, respectively. Keep in mind, in eighteen months I’ll be getting a promotion, based, of course, entirely off seniority and not actual job performance, so I’ll be able to keep you in fashion magazines and handbags. How about it? Wanna take a ride on the K-train?

The Truth Must Be Known!

The Truth Must Be Known! - 27 (Denver)

Date: 2010-12-09, 12:55AM MS

Hello, ladies. Before I begin, let me apologize for taking up your time, but after years of suffering libelous attacks on my character, I feel it has come time stand up and fight for my reputation, nay, my very legacy!

For, you see, I am Cecil. Cecil Blackwater, the true and rightful heir to the Blackwater fortune.

Many of you, when searching this site to sate your feverish romantic yearnings, have run afoul of my so-called half-brother, the rogue and dandy Anton Kimble Blackwater. Let me address some of his more frequent slanderous lies about me in a controlled, orderly way - if I can! As I write this post, my fingers tremble with rage over the keyboard at the thought of his many shocking fabrications!

First and foremost, the issue of my parentage. Anton has stated on several occasions that my mother was a Hoodoo priestess who ensorcelled his father, the "noble" Henry Blackwater, into siring a male heir with her. Lies! Lies! You see, for all the reverence Anton reserves for his father, I and I alone know that Henry Blackwater was little more than a drunk, gambler, and lecher who, having swived every manner of woman and man, would even turn his ravenous appetites on various zoological orders! While it is true that my mother and he did have a single ill-conceived night together, the fact remains... my mother is not my mother! No, my real mother was the twelve-year old serving maid the "venerable" Henry forced himself on, night after night, under threat of unleashing the very same black magick half-brother Anton accuses me of employing! When, at last, Henry was dragged, insensible and rum-sodden, to the Port-Au-Prince jailhouse for lecherous acts with a minor, my mother and her mistress finally saw him for what he was: a two-bit scoundrel and rake. That day they made a pact that he would pay dearly for his treachery, though my real mother never had the chance to see her plots come to fruition, for she died two months later of a pox given to her by her former-lover, likely picked up in one of his many wharf-side revels. The Hoodoo priestess, however, was good enough to raise me as her own and, through me one day take revenge on the man who had scorned her! I believe, dear brother, you recall your father's death on the last leg of his around-the-world balloon race? How the rigging came loose over the Swiss Alps, having later shown signs of abrasion that could have been nothing other than sabotage? Yes, it was I - enraged to the point of murder by your father when, in an opium-stupor, he trampled the earth over my mother's grave and shouted such curses and insults into it that her soul must have withered up in heaven!

On the other charge frequently levied against me by my imbecilic half-brother - an equal to his father in both duplicity and carnality - that I am trying to steal his fortune using "sundry Lapp death rituals and Berber assassins", I can only say: why would I try to steal something that does not exist?

Lift your jaw from off the floor and read that again: Anton is as poor as a Welsh cabinetmaker. It all goes back to one fateful day when Anton was twelve. Old Henry walked into the stable, Blackwater Manor's being the most well-kept and oft-visited in all of New England, to see his young son doing things with his champion mare better left discussed in seaside taverns. That day, Henry knew his son could never be able to manage a fortune, and set up a trust fund to dole out the monies little by little every two years. And, while most men could live a lifetime on one of those generous payments, my half-brother usually spends it within two months on debaucheries that would put the sultans of the Turks to shame! And to hear him talk of his mother, the Spanish wet-nurse, and her tragic, star-crossed romance with the aristocratic Henry! Anton's mother was indeed Spanish, though also a sixty-year old prostitute working the area around the marble quarry where Henry was sentenced to hard labor for impersonating the Duke of Milan! A quarry-whore, the lowest of all whores!

Oh, and to hear his outlandish claims! His "expertise in tomb-hunting and questing for relics of arcane lore"? Ha! Try two years minoring in anthropology at state college, only to be expelled for stealing from the chapel's poor-box. The charitable trusts and aid organizations set up in his name? Nothing more than fronts intended to defraud orphans and nuns of their last shiny coppers!

I regret having to resort to this public airing of dirty laundry, but what else can I do? Anton has refused to meet me on the field of honor like a man, and my attorneys have been unable to locate him due to the fact that he travels under several aliases, usually in the company of a beguiled underage girl. Please, ladies of the world, do not believe his lies! Stay away from Anton Kimble Blackwater!

Location: Denver
PostingID: 2103231861

Looking For The Celestial Madonna

Looking For The Celestial Madonna - 27 (Denver, Dagon System)
Date: 2010-11-11, 12:00AM MST

Hello all you lovely ladies in craigslist land! Hope you're having an enlightened day!

You know, I see a lot of posts from a lot guys that just scream immaturity. Guys that are shallow and self-absorbed, guys who brag about their cars or their jobs or their expensive watches as if those were the things that really mattered in life. I don't mean to be hard on them - after all, what man hasn't been like that at some point in his life? Heck, five years ago you could have cut out a crown from your best glossy construction paper, put it on my head, and called me king of the jerks. But, that was before I knew that empathy, compassion, and love were the real keys to happiness. That was before I had my eyes opened by the visitors from the Dagon System.

Looking back, I can't help but be amused at how naive I was. I was working some crappy corporate job, bouncing from relationship to relationship and drinking nearly five nights a week just in the hope of finding a night's reprieve from my terrible lonesomeness. Then, one night as I was stumbling home after being rejected by a girl I had bought eighty dollars worth of drinks for, I saw them: the lights in the sky. The lights in my heart.

Now, I'm never lonely anymore. I never got along well with my birth-family, but my new family is swell! We spend most of every day singing, and dancing, and chanting, and preparing our bodies for the journey to the Dagon System through ritual self-mutilation. Of course, no family is perfect, and ours is no exception. Occasionally, one of my celestial sisters gets it in her head that she wants to write a letter to her birth-mother, at which point things can get pretty tense. Fortunately, a few weeks laboring in the fields on a 500-calorie-a-day diet of lentils puts a damper on even the fieriest of spirits, but boy have we had some close calls. Also, there are the occasional attempts by birth-parents of our family member to take them away, back to their lives of crass materialism, back to being asleep. So, just in case any of them are reading this, let me repeat what our attorneys already stated: most of our members are legally adults, so if you attempt to abduct and "deprogram" any of our brothers and sisters, you WILL be charged with kidnapping.

Anyways, I'm here now looking for the Celestial Madonna. What's a Celestial Madonna? Where can I find one? Unfortunately, the visitors weren't real clear about that one, but if we are ever to achieve the symbolic rebirth that will allow our spirits to ascend to the Dagon System, we need ourselves a Celestial Madonna. Trust me, it will be worth your while. Maybe you can call me an old-fashioned guy, but I take care of my women. After two years recruiting new family members in shopping malls and college campuses, and the obligatory six months of agricultural duty, you won't have to lift a finger, not around my house! Just one of the many perks of becoming a full-fledged sister of the Society of Celestial Love, along with matching uniforms and first pick of partners during group sex sessions!

Plus, you get the privilege of living under my guidance, a man who, I just recently realized in a a burst of theosophic revelations sent to me from deep space, is the one and only true god.

Don't hesitate, my Celestial Madonna! I am here, your god's avatar, to fulfill the prophecy and vault the elect few to the paradise of the Dagon system!

Location: Denver, Dagon System
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 2053969098

RE: I would really like to know....

I would really like to know.... - w4m - 24 (Denver)

Where single men hang out. Online dating can be difficult and full of angst. If a woman wanted to meet a "real" man out in the world, what would she do? The relationship pundits tell women to "go where the men are." Where the heck IS that anyway? I have tried going where I think you might be and what I might say.

* Home Depot: "What exactly is a ballpeen?"
* Grocery Store: "Do these melons look ripe to you?" (okay, okay, that was questionable)
* Neighborhood Sports Bar: "What inning is it?"
* Liquor Store: "Is single malt worth the price?"
* Art Museum: "How bout those impressionists?"
* Natural History Museum: "Do you think there really is a missing link?"
* Sushi Bar: "Do you prefer Hamachi or Ebi?"
* Pro Bass Shop: "Why do they call them anglers?"

There are a lot of women just like me who are 24-60, attractive, intelligent, humorous, loyal, loving, interesting, engaging, fun to be with and would make a great partner. How can we approach you, or even give a smile of encouragement if we don't know where you are?

C'mon guys, work with us here. Give a hint as to where you can be found. I bet lots of women here would appreciate you posting that information.

Location: Denver
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1993669862

RE: I would really like to know....

Colin Heintze to pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.
show details 12:10 AM (4 minutes ago)

You want to know where you can find unattached men with all the qualities women find attractive? Look no further than the correctional system.

Before you get all bent out of shape let me lay some truth on you. Physically fit? You'll find the hottest hunks are the guys in the orange jumpsuits. I've seen dudes come in as scrawny runts and coming out looking like juiced-up pitbulls. Sure, you may have to have to look the other way when it comes to thousand-yard stares and prison ink detailing a long criminal history in a tapestry of complex symbolism, but can you really tell me you'll find hunkier guys at the library? Artistic? Shit, us guys don't have much else to do other than arts and crafts. I personally have made shanks out of items as innocuous as lengths of wire and toothbrush handles. My celly paints the most beautiful murals you'll ever see. Of course they're mostly about arson, but you wouldn't believe what a con hardened by the system can do with just a little kool-aid powder and syrup from a cup of fruit cocktail. Sensual? Hell, some of the guys in here like to bump so much that they've never taken "no" for an answer!

But all of that is small potatoes compared to the best thing about dating within the correctional system: loyalty. I mean, it's not like any of us guys are going to be cheating on you anytime soon. Not unless there's some new fish whose been running his mouth off and needs to be taught how things work in here. Other than that, you are practically guaranteed total fidelity from your guy. Doesn't even matter what you look like. Since most of us fellas only see a woman every three years or so when our parole hearing comes up, we ain't exactly picky.

Now, I know you're wondering just how this little arrangement can work. After all, it's not like you can just show up at the gate and ask to take one of the guys out for dinner! Well, you have several options. First - just let me get the obvious out of the way - there's conjugal visits. However, if making a life-long commitment to someone who has shown a pathological lack of empathy and need to manipulate others isn't really your cup of tea, you have other options. Are you a licensed psychiatrist, RN, or MD? If so, it's possible you could get the man of your dreams for fifteen unsupervised minutes at least twice a week. Plus, you'll be able to write prescriptions, which means you'll practically have your pick of the litter. Just this second I know a ton of guys who need to come up with several dozen doses of Oxycontin to keep the Aryan Nation off their backs.

Don't waste your time with little sissies who don't know how to appreciate a good woman. You want guys, you know where to find them. For only the willingness to smuggle in heroin inside your body, you could find the man you'll spend the next twenty-five years to life with!

Sincerely,
Jake "Cutter" Butler
Canyon City Correctional Institution

A True Gentleman

A True Gentleman - 27 (Denver)
Date: 2010-09-19, 12:00PM MDT

Whatever happened to real gentlemen? What became of men of character, men who woo their ladies with long, elegant courtships? Men who hold the door of the coach open for their paramours? Men who walk to the inside of the woman in order to shield her from the fusillade of offal and waste raining down from the windows above? Real, old-fashioned gentlemen such as myself.

For, you see, I am but an eighteenth century English gentleman transported to this time by an enchanted looking-glass my late uncle found on the Singapore wharves.

Your customs, I should say, bewilder me. Take, for example, last week’s journey to the local public house and imagine my shock when I saw women, and no pox-ravaged slatterns, but actual unescorted ladies in attendance! I wanted to shout at them, “Ladies, leave here! Have you no idea what iniquities take place in a tavern such as this?” But my voice was stolen from me upon viewing an even more vexing sight. Sitting beside me, with a dour countenance and shock of fiery red hair, was none other than an Irishman! I rallied the other patrons, crying “seize him lads! Hold fast those burly arms and evict him fore’ he can blight us with some Papist enchantment!” But, to my surprise, no one stirred from their seats, and it was I who was rudely escorted out, not him!

If I cannot find an elegant lady of fine breeding, what hope is there for me in this bewildering new world?

I have combed over the records of what happened after my disappearance of 1752. All my property, including the magic looking glass, went to my sister, though records of her life are woefully incomplete. There is some allusion that she may have been carried off by an Indian during the French war, and if that was so, what became of the looking glass? Does it rest in the pocket of some grinning savage descended from the one who ravished my dear sister? Will I ever uncover what became of my family, and my only means back to my own time?

And, if I cannot return to my own era, how will I survive in this alien world? After all, the fourteen pounds I had in the bank when I disappeared surely won’t last me long – wait a minute… those fourteen pounds must have accrued quite a bit of interest by now. Mayhap I should check my bank balance… I… oh Christ. Oh, sweet merciful Christ.

You know what, forget the magic looking glass. Think I’ll buy that castle in Coventry I always had my eye on.

* Location: Denver
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1962304598

RE: Where are the Brits/Expats?!

Where are the Brits/Expats?! - w4m - 24 (Denver - LoDo)--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-09-11, 3:25PM MDT
Reply to: pers-q3paa-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX@craigslist.org -------------------------------------------------------
Hello there. Expats are the holy grail. Seeking former UK resident who took up residency in CO for, well, all that Colorado offers. Am still reeling from England's depature from the WC and actually own a replica jersey if that gives you a sense a how committed. Looking forward to hearing from you and seeing where the limits lie. I am an anomaly. Email me and I will be more engaging without the limitations of privacy.

see ya!

•Location: Denver - LoDo
•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1948942338

RE: Where are the Brits/Expats?!
Colin Heintze to pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX.
show details 9:53 PM (3 minutes ago)

Good evening (or whatever time it is on your side of the world), and a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

My name is Nigel Templeton, and I am contacting you from the Republic of Korea, or as my mates around the Commission call it, The land that time forgot.

Egad, man, what a ghastly lot these Koreans are! But, perhaps further introductions are in order. As I said, my name is Nigel Templeton, current consul for for Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service, Incheon, Republic of Korea Office. After newly two years in this bastion of Confucian savagery I have, much to my delight, been given a posting in Denver, CO. Ah, to be among white men once more, and not just those petty sycophants at the Commission that hang on my sleeve begging for indulgences! It's a nasty compulsion of the British bourgeois class, I'm afraid, to intrigue and social-climb. Not that the natives are any better. One gets the feeling that, smile though they might, inwardly they view you with the same piteous contempt they would a pig groveling in the mud.

I wasn't always like this, mind you. Mary, my governess from home and closest childhood friend, said I was a brilliant and happy lad. I suppose it all changed when, fresh out of the academy, I was given my first posting in Ghana. It was two years of abject misery, of sleepless nights dreading the incessant tom-toms drumming in the wind, of mosquitoes and the runs and sun-burns, for the Englishman has neither the complexion for the black's sun nor his cuisine. If it weren't for the consul office's air-conditioner - the only thing able to maintain the white man's presence in Africa - and the occasional whore tucked discreetly into my expense account, I dare say I would have resigned from the service after the first monsoon. Christ, how the gutters stank with the overflowing offal of human refuse during the monsoons. And the dry season, let me assure you, was no better. No amount of baking by the pool, the sixth or seventh glass of gin trembling in my hand, could drown out the sheer surging mass of human odour and noise coming from the street beyond the gates. I mean, there was a corpse lying there, just lying in the street for three whole days before someone even bothered to remove it! How the fuck can these backwards grease-smeared savages hope to build a post-colonial society if even such rudimentary social services are ignored? I had hoped that colonization would have left its mark on them, would have imbued in them some spark of civility, but I know now that would be too much to ask of Africa. Africa, refuse-heap of the world! Africa, where one whiff of the foetid air sent Elizabeth, darling Elizabeth, fleeing back to Leeds, back to the arms of that fucking aristocratic cunt Simon! Simon, how I Ioathe you! How I despise your silly fucking affectations, your idle, simpering chatter! And how I hate you, Elizabeth, for choosing him over me and making me the gin-sodden, misanthropic man I am today. You wait and see, I'll rise through the ranks. I'll make ambassador one day, and soon I'll be serving up Simon's smug head on a platter, his Tudor father be damned!

But, I'm getting a new posting in America, so hopefully things will be better - starting with you. I'm sick of crying tears of impotent rage every night. Sick of the whorish expat widows pestering me for affection. Sick of dust-caked urchins loping at my heels for a discarded trinket. A fresh start, and it begins anew with you. Britannia Universalis!

RE: I am a woman seeking a man with a truck

I am a woman seeking a man with a truck (50ish arapahoe and 95th street)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-08-24, 3:50PM MDT

Reply to: pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX@craigslist.org
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi!

I need something moved - it is only a few miles.
Wouldn't it be great if you helped me and there was chemistry??

or even a new friendship!

I will help pay for gas.

Please send a photo - thanks.

•Location: 50ish arapahoe and 95th street
•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1917207015

RE: I am a woman seeking a man with a truck
Colin Heintze to pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. 12:07 AM (7 minutes ago)

Roger that, I get your meaning.

Lets skip all the fucking bullshit and get straight to the point. My name is Hank. Just Hank for now - if you're on the level, maybe later we can have that "relationship" you were talking about. For now, just ask around at the truck stops on I-20 and everyone will tell you that Hank is the type of guy you want a relationship with, the type of guy that always comes through and never tries any sketch bullshit. Ask anyone and they'll tell you that Hank's product is the best around, and I've moved product from here to South Florida, so transporting it a few miles won't be a problem.

I've got the truck you need, been cooking in it since the apartment I was renting burned down because my dumb-shit cousin didn't bleed the valves on the pressure cooker. Whatever, the truck's better anyways - everything cooked, prepped, and delivered in one place, and no nosy neighbors complaining about the ammonia smell. Got the "chemistry" you're looking for, too. And this ain't no backwoods fuckin' hillbilly chemistry, neither. I'm talking about 99% purity, cooked with lab-grade ingredients, not some trailer-trash cocktail made from the stuff under the sink.

You'll pay for gas? Hell, you'll pay for a lot more than that. I'm gonna need sufedrine, at least 200 packs, methyl alcohol, and sodium benzoate. I'm not running a charity here, so if you want a "relationship" with me, you gotta put in your own work. If everything goes smoothly, we can talk points off the percentage. But, maybe that's thinking too far ahead. For the time being, I just need to make sure I can trust you enough to do business.

You wanna find me, ask around.

RE: $1 Alt Lifestyle(female)

$1 Alt Lifestyle(female) (Greensboro)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-08-16, 5:57PM EDT
Reply to: hous-xxxxxxxxxxxxxx@craigslist.org
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Location: corner of XXXXXXXX and XXXXXXXXX

Have you ever had fantisys of being part of a harem or a slave girl? Would you
like to be part of a social experiment? You will get 1 collar, 1 shared
bedroom(bunk bed, fully furnished), utilities(gas,elec,water,HS-cable,local phone)
and food; for $1/month + (cleaning or cooking). Room assignments may change every
4 months.

Spots available 1 cook, 1 maid, and 1 pet. Spots are 4 to 8 months only and pet
may not be the first role you take; pet is also optional. And since this kind of
thing can be taken the wrong way, a non disclosure contract will also be required.

Mon 6PM-10PM and Fri 6PM-7PM will be house dinner and house meetings, dinner prep
starts 5:15PM for cook, else 11:15pm curfew. Requires 5hrs/week dinners
and house meetings and 5hrs/week in assigned roleplay. No eating or drinking in
bedrooms. No overnight guests unless imediate family. No parties. no smoking
anywhere on property. And will require some reading to our small group. other duties
include your own laundry, and cleaning up after yourself in all common rooms.

This experiment is about roleplay, learning the minimum cleaning that a social worker would require from you if children were in the house, learning how to cook for a family of 6, and learning how to follow and give directions. This is also about presenting your goals to a group and as a group, being held accountable. This will be a documented experiment, if you wish to write a journal it can be turned in every 6 months at ($10per readable & full page) up to $500.

The trade is this: room and board for 10hrs/week your end. My end, I get two cooked meals per week, a clean house and quotes-jurnalistic ideas if you turn in a journal.

The downstairs has one male until Nov. then It will be all female. The upstairs is
occupied by one male who is responsible for yard and house maintance. And their are
dogs and a cat.

We presently have 1 of the 3 spots filled. IF anyone is interested in filling another spot. (336)294-XXXX for questions or to see the house. Ask for Marty, or leave name and #.

•Location: Greensboro
•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1902450025

Some Tips From an Old-hand at Harems
|Colin Heintze to hous-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX. 8:26 PM (2 minutes ago)

Pardon my intrusion, but after reading your message I was seized with the desire to offer my most humble and well-intentioned advice. I should preface this with by saying that the purpose of this response is not to be condescending or in any way disrespectful of your harem-building ambitions, but only to give you, with your clear lack of experience in these matters, some pointers that will allow you to avoid the pitfalls that plague many journeyman harem-builders.

First of all, three women is not a harem. It's barely even a shisha den. Now, I know what you're thinking - "three girls will be easier to manage", but let me tell you that, when it comes to harems, bigger is always better. With only three girls locked inside the incense-laden, gilded chamber of your palace, all it it takes is two forming an alliance for some very nasty plots to emerge. First, a little flirtation with the captain of the guards. Then, maybe some secret messages smuggled out to foreign ambassadors. Next thing you know, you've got some harem girl trying to enthrone the son you begot on her. Then you have guards to torture, heads to put on pikes, and bastard-sons to have quietly murdered lest they ever emerge to challenge your rightful heirs. Really, it's depressing. Better to have at least a few dozen girls, so their vying for your attention will cause them to factionalize against each other. Like my father always said, building a harem is a science, not an art.

Also, having less girls in your harem than you do wives? Seems like it defeats the purpose... just saying.

Have you even thought about security? New harem-builders never do. For every three girls, you're going to need at least one eunuch, preferably a dark-skinned kafir (I'm not racist by the way, it's just good policy to have kafirs guard your harems since, in case they weren't properly snipped, you can always look at a newborn mulatto and tell who the father was). Sure, for a harem your size you'll probably go with some low-end eunuch, but let me tell you something - when you buy discount eunuchs, you get what you pay for. Does your eunuch know the correct amount of hashish to administer to a certain girl on a daily basis? Has your eunuch the resolve to separate two girls who, while you campaign against the Hungarians, have taken to committing lewd acts with each other? Most importantly, can your eunuch crush the skull of an intruder as easily as an egg? And don't even think of trying to get a eunuch outside the union. Do that, and you'll have a few hundred picketers in front of the palace gates shouting in that creepy falsetto of theirs. By the prophet, peace be upon his name, the paperwork turns into a real nightmare.

And really, encouraging your harem girls to read and write? Maybe next we could not execute apostates, or allow women to own property. This is a harem, man, so leave all those high-falutin' modern ideals to those swines in Venice.

But, I will not harangue you further, for if there is one thing I've learned about harems, it's that the only way to truly learn is by doing. So, take my advice or leave it, because when it comes to enslaving a large number of women to be exploited as sexual objects, there's only one rule: have fun!

Sincerely,
His Most Revered Excellency Great Osman, Scourge of the Infidels, and Sal Al-Addin
Sultan Yildirim Bayezid

Looking For a Cool Chick

Looking for a Cool Chick - 27 (Seoul)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-08-03, 8:52PM KST
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wassup ladies? I don't know about this internet shit, but I guess its time to branch out since I haven't met any cool girls here at all. I mean, the girls here are hot and everything, and I've always had this preference for Asian chicks since my step-dad showed me this super fucked-up Japanese porno, but they walk around like they all got a bug in their asses or something.

I'm here on this totally sweet teaching gig. It's the easiest bucks I ever made since that summer I dealt weed a camp. I had this great system where my brother would sneak it into my mom's care packages from home if I promised to let him look at my Hustlers when I came back. God, he was such a fucking retard. Anyways, that was a good summer. I got one of the counselors stoned and she let me go under the shirt. She was like 20 and I was just 16, which was the first, but trust me not last, time I ever felt tit (I'm not counting when I had to pull my cousin out of the bathtub that time she overdosed. Her tits weren't even that good, maybe a 6 at best). Mostly, I just play the kids episodes of the Simpsons and try to keep them from sticking their fingers in the electrical sockets, most of the time pretty successfully I might add. I got plenty of money too, and I can't even find a way to spend it. I mean, there's like no weed here at all, which frees up like half my budget right there, and every time I go to bars there's always some old dude who wants to practice his English buying me drinks. At first I thought there was something a little fruity about that, but those dudes usually pass out after the fifth beer so I don't gotta worry about them getting all gay with me.

But it's hard finding cool chicks here, man. I mean, there's plenty of Korean girls who want a little American steel (I'm talking about my penis), but they all want to go out to dinner and chat on the internet and hold hands in public and shit. Slamming some chick was a lot easier back home, when we'd just hang in the berm behind the YMCA and huff wood varnish till one of us blacked out. I woke up with no money plenty of times, but I also slammed some of the hottest chicks in town too, so it was an equal trade. Hell, with my tolerance to varnish I'd say it was more like 70-30 in my favor. The only chick that could regularly keep up with me was Kira Watson, but that wasn't no loss since everyone knew she got crabs from Jesse Miller anyways.

So I might be kinda a playboy but I figure this is no one's maiden voyage, if you know what I mean (I mean sex). The one time I slammed a virgin she kept calling and showing up at my house and acting all clingy and shit, so I definitely don't want that. I had to promise to meet her out in farm country, then leave her ass there without a ride home to finally get the message across. Last I heard, she killed herself, so I guess I dodged a bullet by getting rid of some crazy chick sooner rather than later.

That said, if you're not crazy, not a virgin, and totally down to party, let's hook up.

•Location: Seoul
•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1877990202

RE: Bad Boy Gone Good OR Street Smart, Smart Ass, Survivor with Class

Bad Boy Gone Good OR Street Smart, Smart Ass, Survivor with Class - w4m - 19 (Denver)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-07-14, 4:12PM MDT

Reply to: pers-XXXXXXXXXXXX@craigslist.org
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've got a master's degree from a good school, I've traveled extensively internationally, I'm bona fide and certified and I use correct grammar habitually. My Problem? The men I "should" be dating bore me to tears. My type seems to be the self-made, driven, still street-smart-but-have-moved-beyond-my-neighborhood-because-I-don't-need-the-hassle-anymore sort of man . . . The kind of man who could probably win in a bar fight every time even now but who chooses not to because he's over that shit.

Have you reached a certain age but nobody would guess (by that I mean probably 19's and 50's) how old you are? Do you have wisdom and youthfulness and sheer persistence? Are you somebody who was (is) always smart and quick and living on the edge but who has made his way into a more comfortable existence because you've just grown out of it (and no, I don't mean support me, I mean know which fucking fork to use in a nice restaurant and don't have a tattoo on your neck) and you want to live peacefully now?

E-mail me . . . I have accepted that you are my type and I am looking for someone who can love me ferociously while I love you back.

Location: Denver

PostingID: 1843301383

Colin Heintze to pers-XXXXXXXXXXXX. (2 minutes ago)

Anton Kimble Blackwater at your service!

I must admit, your challenge sang to me like a siren! I find myself drawn to your rocky shores, though like the hardy seamen of antiquity I can expect awaiting peril - that is what the Lapp medium read in the entrails during my last annual vision quest.

But enough of boring you with the minutia of my life! Allow me to introduce myself: I am Anton Kimble Blackwater, heir to the Blackwater Industrial, Antiquities, and Space Flight Research Concerns. I say with equal parts intrigue and sadness that I may - by Plutarch's beard! - be somewhat beneath your standards, though that you have such lofty requirements speaks to the uncompromising nature of undiluted blue-blooded aristocracy! That is why, though I stand before you humbled, I have chosen to return your overture with the fervor of a Kipchak boy singing his first courtship song outside the yurt of his beloved. For, you see, I too have known the sting of seeking romance among those who are beneath me. Perhaps my mother's blood peddles its influence on me - after all, she was but a simple Spanish wet nurse who, by way of her preternatural goodness, was able to win the heart of my father, the venerable rubber magnate and gentleman adventurer Henry Blackwater. It is this dilution of the Blackwater lineage which, I believe, has always given me a certain fondness for the lower classes. That, and my education in Berber caravans and Levantine opium dens gave me a certain worldliness few Blackwaters have had the benefit of.

But, how can I find love when I am continually presented with the ordinary and mundane? Of all my conquests, scarcely a dozen had ever lived among the savage tribes of Papua, ran a multi-billion-dollar business, or felt the smooth, downy comfort of a night's sleep neath' a snow-leopard pelt. Why should I settle for a lover who is merely fit for a Duke, when I deserve one fit for a Blackwater!

True to your requirements, I was quite rakish in my youth. Though I shun the obscenity of physical violence, I am quite capable of its execution. Half-brother Cecil - damn the rogue! - has seen to that. Not a month goes by in which he does not try to relieve me of our father's fortune, and many the fiendish Dayak and Hussite assassins have met their ends at my hands. My expertise in the martial sciences and esoteric magicks, however, has not lately been put on display. I am, as you hoped, no longer prone to engaging in bouts of combat. Since taking Man-servant Mandalay into my employ, foiling Cecil's attempts has become his area of providence. These days, I mostly amuse myself by administering the many charities in the Blackwater Trust and researching a dull assortment of quantum particles and metaphysical phenomenon.

Come, deliver me from this tedium! Let us share yarns of our ancestors in the Carolingian line; let us watch the moon rising over the canopy of the Orinco; let us match wits in frivolous, world-spanning contests (first to find the Jade Osprey wins!). I am waiting for you!

More Responses!

Amanda to pers-f9hr5-181.
12:44 PM (23 hours ago)

lol! wow lot's of extra time

Colin Heintze to Amanda

2:55 PM (21 hours ago)

I dare you to make less sense!

Amanda to me
3:41 PM (20 hours ago)

yes absolutely lots + of + extra + time = super confusing LOL ,,,you just keep maintenance of your little craigslist page on "hipsters" .

Colin Heintze to Amanda
5:10 PM (19 hours ago)

Sorry, when you said "lot's" of extra time I thought the extra time belonged to lot, and the only lot I could think of was the Lot from Sodom and Gomorrah, which naturally made me think about sodomy, which made me count backwards from ten until the urges were gone just like the court-appointed psychologist taught me. Still, I have no idea what you are talking about... what is the subject of "lot's of extra time?" Me? The post? Lot from The Bible? Maybe he had extra time because his wife was turned into a pillar of salt and wasn't always all "Lot, I want more slaves." or "Lot, buy me that ionic air purifier from the Sharper Image." (I haven't actually read the Bible). Help me out here?

Amanda to me
9:11 PM (15 hours ago)

this should help
http://lewovale.t35.com/

Colin Heintze to Amanda
12:26 PM (16 minutes ago)

And here's a website you might find useful:
http://suicidehotlines.com/

Response!

XXXXXXXXXXXX to pers-f9hr5-181.
show details 3:08 AM (16 hours ago)

Hi My name is XXXXXXXXX. Or you can call me XXXXXX.

I just read you post and..What's wrong with the word "hipster"?! ;$ They are
cute and hot. and well I don't know, I think I am kinda the type of girl?
I am Korean..but I love Zooey Deschanel girl. !!

I am 24yo, university graduated, fun, down to earth, easy going, into art, fashion,
books(...my major was library science, because I love books Or I loved..well yeah
I am more into the fashion megazines), taking pictures, watching movies, going
to bars or live clubs, chat over tea, drinking at the parks, also love rock/blues and even some electronic.

I was in Vancouver, Toronto, Motreal in Canada for almost 2 years. I worked,
traveled and took some courses there. I came back to Korea in Feb.
Now I am looking for a guy to hang out with. and I think you are cool. So Let me
know If you want to know more about me, I hope to hear from you soon!

Colin Heintze to XXXXXXXXXXXX
show details 6:12 AM (13 hours ago)

Awesome. You lived in Canada? Canada is so much better than the war-mongering and materialistic United States. America just has no culture - it's all about MTV and Walmart and Starbucks on every corner, not like Canada which has... well, I'm sure Canada has something going on. Other countries are really cultural, and I hope to someday visit them so that I may begin sentences with "When I was in Italy...", or that I may unfavorably compare our public transportation to that in France.

So yeah, let's hang out. Now, I should tell you I'm going to show up at least a half-hour late, since I usually don't wake up before 2pm and, after that, it takes several hours to style my hair to achieve the look of being unkempt and uncared-for. When we finally meet and sit down together you will be treated with a fusillade of criticisms concerning the "bourgeois" decor, terrible imported beer selection, and music of whatever venue we have our little rendezvous. I will then proceed to talk about myself in what less credulous minds would most likely perceive as a never-ending stream of verbal excrement, including unsubstantiated claims to have met celebrities, pretenses of creativity, and affected indifference to your interests and opinions. When, at last, I run out of self-aggrandizing gas, I will take the time to disapprove of everything you like, thus giving you a subconscious desire to appease me by reciprocating my increasingly aggressive sexual rhetoric.

If everything goes well, by the end of the night you might see my tats. No, not the ones on my arms you can see due to my insistence on never wearing a shirt with sleeves, but the OTHER ones (if you know what I mean). I have one that says "truth" in Japanese, a Celtic cross, and one of Jermaine from Flight of the Concords I got one night when me and homeboy Bradley were spaced on DMT.

Hipster and Proud!

Hipster and Proud! - 26 (Seoul)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-07-01, 12:15AM KST
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm not going to hide it, not anymore! For too long the word "hipster" has been a hurtful and uncool pejorative used to discriminate against me and my friends. Well, I'm here to say that I'm a hipster, I'm looking for a quirky Zooey Deschanel-type girl, and I'm not ashamed of it!

I'm really into music, duh, except heavy metal or country - unless its done ironically, because its okay to like thing as long as you are mocking, and thus inherently superior to, them. I'm especially into local bands since, if they ever make it big, I can proclaim that I liked them back when they were still playing in dive bars for drink tickets (before expressing my disgust at their selling out). I'm also addicted to fashion, which provides me with a great opportunity to sate my constant need for one-upmanship. That V-neck is the latest from American Apparrel? Hell, mine is so new they haven't even released it yet. Those Chucks are early 80's vintage? Well mine are late 70's more vintage. No matter what you're into, I'll always find a way to insert a comment implying you are just on the other side of the cutting edge.

I also care a lot about causes. Poor urban minorities. Impoverished farmers in Latin America. Ethnic cleansing in Africa. In fact, there is almost no subject I'm unwilling to loudly ruminate about, and no opinion too uninformed for me to vehemently advocate. And, should it be proposed that I have an extremely simplistic world view tainted by a profound lack of cultural, historical, and economic perspective, I will use one of several pre-arranged quotes from an obscure Serbian anarchist I keep on hand just for moments like those. Why? Because I care. I care enough to move into poor urban neighborhoods and show I have unlimited compassion for the working class matching my a puerile need for street cred. Then, when all my friends move to the neighborhood and drive out the locals with skyrocketing property values, I can grouse in a series of jeremiads about how much the place has changed and just isn't "real" anymore.

Now, a lot of people say that hipsters don't read anything other than Chuck Palahniuk or Vice Magazine, but I read plenty of other stuff as well. Mostly, I read books that are about to be turned into a movie - especially if it's a movie by Wes Anderson, Spike Jonze, or David Fincher - so I can complain to everybody that the book was better than the film version. I also skim through works by Camu, Foucault, and Gide in order to drop their names into conversations regardless of whether it fits naturally into the dialogue or not. I'm even planning on writing a novel some day, along with making a film and starting a band, despite lacking any of the disciplined work-ethic or basic creative mechanics required to undertake such ventures.

Now, some of you might wonder how someone in their mid-twenties who has never had a job can afford to go to clubs every night and live in a 5,000 square-foot loft apartment. First off, I do have a job. I keep a party blog and, twice a month, I contribute music reviews to this totally indie underground zine. Second, work is for people who aren't creative, proactive, and aware like I am - people like my parents, who worked for decades to support my bohemian lifestyle.

Physically, I'm horribly ugly. I get no exercise outside of bike rallies and games of kickball, have facial hair reminiscent of a 19th-century longshoreman, and live in utterly debased, unhygienic conditions. But, all of that doesn't matter, because I'm an artist, an intellectual, and an activist. You'll know that's true because I will never stop telling you about it.

So, don't listen to all the haters that say me, and people like me, are just self-obsessed nihilists incapable of showing genuine sentiment or doing anything creative beyond simple commentary. We're here, we're now, and we're not going anywhere... unless a new trend comes around.

BTW, got any coke?

Location: Seoul
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1818887021

Epic Date Fail Now on Facebook

So, Epic Date Fail is now on the second most depressing site on the interweb: facebook. So, if you are one of the millions of folk who is unable to have a real, non-electronic human relationship, head on over to the facebook page and become a fan(or make another friend that will inevitably disappoint you)!

I'm Sick of Watching

I'm Sick of Watching - 26 (Seoul)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-06-27, 7:58PM KST
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So, it's come to this, and why shouldn't it? After all, I haven't been the most sociable person these last several eons. I guess I'm just tired, tired of watching other people laugh and love and live together in happiness as I spy them enviously from my lonely perch in the swirling ether. That guy at the party who stands in the corner refusing to talk to anyone? That's me. The man who always seems to be lurking on the edges of a conversation fighting for the boldness to break into it? Yo, right here. I'm a Watcher, and frankly it's all getting pretty old.

I'm sick of just watching. Why do I just have to watch anyways? Just once I'd like to use my infinite wisdom and inexhaustible power to, you know, DO something. Would it really make that much of a difference if I taught those crab-monsters on Torta to build levies so their egg-pools would stop getting flooded? From the episode of my birth the moment before the cosmos bloomed into existence (that I may have observed and recorded the event) I've always been bound to this title of "Watcher" - though, I must admit, lately I'm starting to question this whole "eternity as silent observer" path that the elder powers determined for me. For one, it's dull. When you've seen one galaxy collapse into the fiendish maw of terrible Bet-Sabbot you've seen em' all, yet every time the great eye of the sun-drinker sets its sights on a newly-doomed world there I am, floating off to the side with my clipboard and sharpie pen like I'm goddamn Jane Goodall. You know what I'd like to watch(as if anyone ever bothers to ask me)? An episode of Grey's Anatomy, or maybe the sunset with a bottle of Merlot and a good cheese spread.

What's that, a solar flare in a far-away galaxy has rapidly mutated a form of intelligent life into an omniscient entity of pure benevolence? Guess I'm missing this week's episode of Lost again. What, that show ended months ago? Fuck. I really need to get Tivo.

So, I guess it's time to quit. After all, I doubt the elder powers can destroy me, he who was the first and will be the last. It's not like a Watcher is even that necessary. I mean, stuff will keep happening whether I'm there to observe it or not. Let someone else be Watcher for awhile. I'm still young, this reality (spoiler alert!) still has a few billion years left in it, and its time to start living! It's time to stop watching, and start doing! There's a laser tag place down the street from my apartment, and I've always wanted to take a pottery class. Any ladies out there want to help a Watcher become a DOer?

Location: Seoul
PostingID: 1813335494

RE: Seeking Irreverent Daytime Mistress

Seeking Irreverent Daytime Mistress - 36 (Seoul)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-06-15, 10:09AM KST
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I use the word irreverent in my title because it means 'critical of what is generally accepted or respected,' which perfectly suits the kind of person I am seeking.
I'm a 36 year old American working and living in Seoul.

I'm seeking an intelligent, sexy, and fit young woman to be my ongoing daytime mistress.

I imagine we would only be able to meet one another once or twice per week.

We would only be able to meet during the daytimes, (sometime between the hours of 10 am and 3 pm) spending time together talking and finding secret niches in Seoul where we can make love to one another.

In exchange for your confidentiality, erotic attention, and understanding, I would be able to help you with your expenses and upkeep.

If this sounds like a mutually beneficial arrangement, then please contact me and we will take our conversation from there.

Location: Seoul
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1792335092

RE: Seeking Irreverent Daytime Mistress
Colin Heintze to pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX. show details 2:06 am (5 minutes ago)

Exactly what kind of kill-play are you looking for? I'm no softy, but I'm still relatively new at all this. My ex turned me on to it about four years ago. We were getting bored with the BDSM scene... though I probably don't need to tell you, of all people, that whips and hot wax can get pretty dull after a while. I guess you could say we were pretty jaded, that we were looking for that next big thrill, that we couldn't get off unless we were constantly crossing into darker, weirder territories, that we couldn't feel alive unless we were pushing the boundaries of extreme psychosexual experience.

My ex heard about kill-play from our mutual friend/fuck-slave Gary. One night, after a particularly gruesome session with cudgels and riding-crops, Gary managed to sputter out a story about some guy he met in the basement of the club, a real player. When Gary got out of the hospital he took us to the guy's shop and, let me tell you, there are sex shops and there are sex shops, like the ones the public sees and the ones in the back room that, like the special humidor in a cigar shop, cater to a more exclusive clientele. What we saw... we just knew we had to part of it, this silent and faceless community of extreme fetishist of the international kill-play underground.

We had to train first. Some role-playing, of course, followed by several viewings of the Faces of Death video series (have you seen those?... wait, of course you have. The stuff you've done probably makes that shit look like the playland at McDonald's). Anyways, we started slow. A few cats, taken off the street. A dog we kidnapped from the neighbors. To be honest I was worried about doing a human, but my ex just kept on pushing, kept on saying we need to go farther, needed to have the ultimate experience. It turned me on... it still does, which is I guess is why I'm contacting you.

Well, my ex isn't around anymore and I can't get the game out of my mind, can't stop feeling like I took a bite of a gourmet meal only to have the plate taken away before I could finish. Turns out that homeless guy we brought back to our house was an Afghanistan war veteran and, for all his talk, my ex just couldn't go through with it when the time came. Naturally, I begged him to. We had already gone past the point of no return, and there was no going back - it was either follow through and erase the evidence or go to prison. But, my ex hesitated, the bum managed to wriggle out of his restraints and pick up a potato peeler we were using and... well, the rest is history.

So, that's why I am responding to your ad. I nearly creamed my panties when I saw it. Honestly, I never thought you really existed. I thought you were just a legend in the kill-play underground - I never imagined you were real, and that I might one day be contacting you over the web. Is it true you once did a pair of socialites in their father's yacht? Shit, I've got a lot to learn... and I need you to teach me.

I am SO Sorry!
Colin Heintze to pers-XXXXXXXXXXXXX. show details 2:12 am (1 minute ago)

Oh my God, I've never been more embarassed in my life! As I was going through my sent mail folder I noticed your email address and realized I sent my message to the wrong person... guess I'm having another senior moment LOL! Please disregard my previous message, as it was not intended for you, but for the author of "Worthy Whore Wanted for KP". I have sent the message to the correct person and am keeping my fingers crossed for a response. Anyways, I hope you find your mistress. If this thing with the other guy doesn't work out, maybe you and me could hook up some time? I know plenty of secluded places we could make love, places NO ONE would think to look.

Looking to Settle Down

Looking to Settle Down - 26 (Seoul)
Date: 2010-06-07, 2:10AM KST

I guess there comes a time that a man must walk away from the crowds and the cheers and fade into a life of normalcy. I guess that if you cheat death enough times, eventually he’ll come and claim what’s his if you keep giving him the opportunity.

These last thirty years I’ve been in the stunt business. You name it, I can jump it. School buses, forklifts, cement trucks – I’ve spent three decades putting asses in the seats of fairgrounds and convention centers all over this great nation. And now, it’s time to quit. Time to make my last jump - this time without risk of a shattered coccyx – the jump into retirement and a good woman to see me through it.

I’d describe myself more but, to be honest, I don’t remember much of the last decade, what with all the concussions. I was also using speed pretty heavily, so between picking up lot lizards at the Loaf N’ Jug and waking up in the county lock-up, I’ve got a few holes in the official record. Sometimes I’d wake up in a Motel Six next to a girl in cowboy boots and I had no idea how she got there, I just knew from the rash on my belly we’d been up banging all night. A few times I even looked under the covers and saw that she was packing something downstairs, and wondered just who had been banging who. Point is, I was a little wild in my formative years… and my adulthood… and most of middle age.

But, those days are behind me. First of all, I’m not much in performing shape anymore. I’ve got a rod in my spine, another where my tibia used to be, two plates in my head, and a set of false choppers to replace all them teeth I’ve had knocked out. The doctor says that if I take even one more blow to the head I’ll probably lapse into a coma, though I’ve been in two already and let me tell you they’re a walk in the park – just make sure you have the venue buy you a temporary insurance policy so you’re waking up to a new houseboat in Boca Raton and not eight back alimony payments for your bitch of an ex-wife. Also, I feel I just don’t got stunt-work in me anymore. I’m tired of the constant skin-grafts and micro-fracture surgery – though on the bright side I’m pretty much guaranteed a constant supply of primo pharmaceuticals while I’m learning to walk again.

I want to settle down. Normal house, normal job, normal life. Work on the weekdays, dinner at Stuckey’s on Saturday, mowing the lawn on Sunday – that kind of thing. Maybe I could get one of those new riding mowers they got. What are those thing, 60cc? Hell, I bet with a little tuning, maybe a diesel engine, we could get one of those things up to 180cc, easy. Maybe feed a little nitrous oxide into the fuel line and I could mow every damn lawn in the neighborhood in under an hour, and loud enough to wake up everybody in a five mile radius. I’d stake my life that if you put a ramp up you could easily clear a horse trailer with one of them suckers. Yeah. Yeah. That would be the life.


* Location: Seoul
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

A Wife to Take to America

Marry, what a wretch I am, but no less a wretch that needs wifing!

Henry Cooper is the name, merchant man and smuggler. I've done a deal of trades in my tyme: I soldiered under the banner of Queene Anne; trafficked negroes in Barbadoes; even once did me a little pirating in the West Indies. But now Fortuna, the strumpet, hath given me a new opportunity I would in soothe not waiste, though it giveth me nary cause for enjoyment. A fortnight ago I got word from Umbridge that my dear uncle hath passed of the French disease gotten from the sundry slatterns that was his appetite. In his will, I have been bequeethed a plantation in Virginia, though with no wife to help harvest the sot-weed and not a farthing for a strong-backed negroe or bonded man, I have little means to work such a farm. The life won't be easy - I've heard tales of moskitos the size of pidgons and naked salvages who wilt quarter any white man with their feerce axes, but I've my musket and my cutlass and near ten year's in her majesties navy to deal with any blood-mad heathens.

What I'm looking for is a goodly and comely wench who desires passage to the colonies. The lasses in Virginia, as the talk in the public-houses go, are all but headlong into harlotry, and though I've swived many the slattern and maiden alike, I am a man after betrothal and will not tolerate a strumpet in mine home. Women who replie should have goode strong hips and be clever about divers matters. Women who know the tobacco trade woode be specially helpful. My only other recourse is to enlist the aide of my nephew, damn him for a papist and blackguard, who wilt by his nature do everything to deceeve and cheet me, but is crafty in business and a merry companion.

Tyme is short. Replie rite quickly, that I might set sail for Virginia!