de Fat Man + The Hipster: Fake Craigslist Post #2

This is the second installment of Fake Craigslist Posts, a useless hobby of mine I employ to distract me from that growth on my neck that I really need to get checked out. If you would like to read about my growth, I mean, if you'd like to read the 1st Fake Craigslist Post, click here. 

The "Missed Connections" section is easily my favorite part of Craigslist primarily because the posts nearly always come off as pathetic. The concept is this: it's a place for you to reconnect with someone from long ago that you miss or someone who you missed your chance to copulate with. Many of them are along the lines of "I saw you in the (name of store) on (name of street). We locked eyes and you seemed to dig my musk and stuff. We should bang in the back of my 1996 Buick Regal LIMITED." Alright, not all of them are like that. Only the ones I longingly write when I'm always. But can we get real? My all-time favorite Missed Connection: "You dropped your bible in church and I saw your thong." Gold.

de Fat Man


A few weekends ago I did the Tour de Fat with a couple of my besties (you know who you are, yes you do!). The Tour is an event put on by Colorado's own New Belgium Brewery (the makers of Fat Tire + many other delicious beers) that travels around the U.S. Participants dress in costume and ride their bike through the city with thousands of other riders. Estimates ranged from 4,000-1,000,000,000,000 riders. Along the 4-mile-or-so route I was inspired by both my friends and the atmosphere to write another fake CL post.

The first time I posted as a male looking for a woman (m4w). It was flagged for removal almost immediately, before I got any responses, which means that women looking for that Missed Connection take this shit very seriously. The men, however, were a little bit more gullible, and I snagged two responses (with photos!) before I got flagged. As usual, I've included a screen shot of the post, the text below it, and the image in the post. Below all that shiat is the responses I received.

sexy tour de fat man - w4m - 27 (denber)

u were sitting on a bike. pretty general, i know, but chill. im gettin there.

u were riding that bike like nobodys business w/ sum friends who were also riding bikes, wearing a get-up that made u look really funny, like sum1 who doesn't take themselves 2 seriously, which is hot. u had a pretty serious look on ur face a lot of the time, which I admit was a bit unsettling, almost like u were about to kill sum1. maybe that annoying friend? or maybe ur ride was going terribly. i'm not sure. not a mind reader here. then after the tour u may or may not have eaten some food &/or listened to music &/or killed sumbody. i realize thats a lot of "may or may not haves" but i didn't follow u around the rest of the day. i'm a little 2 busy and way 2 popular to b a creeper, thank u very much. plus, i was quite certain it wasn't my day to be murdered (and i was correct!).

anywho, if ur u, then u should respond to this and maybe we could, i donno, get all hot & sweaty together. or ride bikes. i like doing both.

oh, & shit! how could i forget this all important detail nugget? u had hair on ur head.
 

AND THE RESPONSES! 

It's the ";)" that really disturbs me:

First of all, don't you dare call me "Darln"! Secondly, you're an idiot. No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to ride a motorcycle in the tour.

 

And Game Over :(

 

Hipster Roadkill

Though this one has netted only one response and is still active, I thought I'd post it anyway so you people would stop calling me and begging me for another blahg post. It's really getting out of hand and yes I can't afford a body guard because I'm still unemployed so yes I've hired a cardboard cutout of Mr. T. Yeah, you're the pathetic ones.

This brain burst was inspired when I was riding my bike and almost decimated a runner. I was in the wrong and instantly thought of the guy posting something along this vein. I tweaked a few specs and got this: 

to the hipster I almost ran over - m4w - 36 (17th & High St., Denver)

dear hipster chick I almost ran over at the corner of 17th & high st. I'd appreciate an apology for all the proffanity you used. yes you couldve died but those words you used were hurtful and just plain mean. i realize i couldve killed you but what about the part of my heart that you killed with words like "idiot" and "repugnoid." not even sure what that one means but i didn't like the context and your tone when you used it. if your ready to own up to the pain youve cause, message me back here and tell me what color fanny pack you were wearing

peace

The response was from an admirer who thought I was funny. I'm not going to waste your time with the details, except to let you know I printed it off immediately and pasted it in my "You Brightened Someone's Day!" scrap book. Then I had a crygasm. 

 

Psst. Down here? So you're a crygasmer? There's no need to be ashamed. And there's no need to cry about it. Seriously dude, get ahold of yourself. No, not like that, you sick fuck. Oh my God. Dude, you're cleaning that u— And you're crying again. Great. Well, make it up to me and pass this blahg post onto your crygasm support group. And seriously, clean that shit up. 

Click here to read my third Fake Craigslist post.  And if you missed my first FC post, that's a shame. Because there's absolutely no way to find it. 

Typewriter Outtakes: OCD Much?

This entry is a follow up to a previous post called "It's Selectric, Boogie Woogie, Woogie!" Click here to read that entry if you haven't already, otherwise you're going to be so fucking lost I'm probably going to start pointing and laughing at you and that laughter will probably lead to a little piddle in my pants.

 

 

 

  

  

  

 

Did you enjoy this blahg entry? I hope so because if you didn't I'm moving to the mountains, any mountain, really, just to live and think and be one with thoughts of suicide. Juss playin'! But if you did enjoy it, pass it along to a friend or that other friend. And if you want to read the genesis of this blahg without taking 2 seconds to scroll up, click here. 

Fantasies of a Future Novelist: The Author Photo

If you’ve been stalking me on Facebook you may know that I’m writing a novel. As I type this, I’m 124 pages into the book and I am pumped about it. In all honesty, I haven’t been this excited about something since Leprechaun: Back 2 Tha' Hood. Oh, you didn’t know about the 6ff Leprechaun movie? Well, weren't you a dumb baby.

In my mind I’m already a famous author and fantasies float in and out throughout the day.

The “Trench Coat Treasure” Fantasy

Since I will constantly be traveling to the big cities of the U.S. and the world for publicity tours, I see no reason why I should not be wearing a large trench coat lined with pockets big enough to carry copies of my books. But not all of them will be filled with books, mind you. Half of the pockets will cradle delicious treats such as Red Vines or watermelon Jolly Ranchers. Then when I meet people I’ll impress them by grabbing one of my books from a pocket and signing it for them. If they have a child, I’ll give the little one a hi-five. Why not candy? Because I worked really fucking hard for that candy and I’m not going to give any to some leech that hasn’t worked a fucking day in her or his life. 

The “How Do You Pronounce That?” Fantasy

“International Best Seller Translated Into 41 Languages” is a quote I pulled from a book on my bookshelf called The Alchemist. I love this book, but we’re not talking about why certain pages are stuck together, are we? No, right now we’re talking about my books being translated into multiple different languages. I know I don’t have a single book published in any language yet, but as soon as my first one goes to print it will say “Translated Into 41 Languages.” What the reader will never know is that I made up 40 languages and published one of each. Merquatia bonfoodles, crisstarias! Translation: Marketing tricks, bitches!

The "You're Tha One With Tha Problem" Fantasy


In this fantasy I'm an alcoholic. All the greats were so why can't I? Faulkner, Kerouac, Stephanie Meyer. O.K. StephMey is not an alcoholic, but her writing sure makes me want to get loaded and ruin Christmas for all the little boys and all the little girls.

The “To Pose, or Not To Pose” Fantasy

Drum roll please. The inspiration for this post finally arrives: The Author Photo! It's the one that's usually on the back cover or inside flap of the book. Or, if you’re a super-douche, your body and/or face graces the cover (for some reason Dr. Phil comes to mind). Since I got it in my pretty little head to write a novel, I’ve been thinking about my author photo. Do I need one? Do I really want one? I don’t think my face will sell books. In fact it may cause a book burning campaign the likes of which haven’t been seen since that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, you know the one, where there's a bunch of rowdy jew-haters and they're throwing a shit-ton of books onto this great big-ass fire that's so warm and cozy and exhaling the black smog of knowledge. Remember now? Thought so.

Anyway, if I do decide to get an author photo, I’ve been thinking a lot of doing one that'll make people laugh. I don’t take myself too seriously (read: this blahg). I would have a hard time seeing myself in a serious pose on the back of one of my books so the three options I’ve limited myself to are 1) Don’t have a photo 2) Take a goofy photo or 3) Take a serious photo but pay the gnomes that make the books to paste it face down on one of the inside flaps and call it a “publishing mistake.” Now, lots of authors don’t have a photo and for good reason: all authors are disgusting looking (for some reason Dr. Phil comes to mind). So option #1 is viable. I can take a goofy photo, but it probably would deter folks from buying my book until I get a few “best sellers” under my belt. So goofy photo is out for now. Clearly option #3 is what I have to go with (way to force my hand, Jesus).

 

Now before the big reveal, the inspiration for this blahg post, I’d like to say how much I admire this author. He has made his millions writing fiction, but I have never read any of it. Why? Because they’re scary and I’m a fraidy cat, or as I prefer to call me, a pussy. In the land of writing he's seriously my idol because he’s written so many massively successful books. According to the most reliable source of information on the webs, he’s written 49 novels and a couple of collections of short stories. But the true reason of why he’s my boner-of-the-books is because so many of his works have been adapted to the big screen. How many? Well I didn’t want to count because even the titles are scary and again, I’m a pussy. But here are a few you may have heard of: The Shining, It, The Lawnmower Man, Carrie, The Shawshank Redemption, Stand By Me, The Green Mile, and Misery. Now, Misery is the book that inspired this entire blahg post. And here’s the quick story of why:

I was putting all of my books (approx. 9) on my bookshelf in my new room. I flipped over Misery to look at the back, because I’m considering reading it, and I saw this photo of Stephen King. Seriously, this is the actual photo on the back of my copy:

Can I get a close up? 

Why thank you kind sir! 


You're welcome, dashing young gentleman!

O.K. Yeah, so the photo is fucking hilarious and it made me laugh out loud and now I have a scan of it hanging on my wall right above where I write. But seriously, fuck this guy. Not only does he write some solid pop culture lit that blows him up and splatters his craft onto the big screen, but he thought of my funny author photo idea too? Dick.

Never forgotten. 

Never forgiven.

And if you've read this and you're unaware that I finished the first draft of my novel, click here. 

And if you enjoyed this blahg post you should probably give up on life, snort a kilo of coke and drink yourself to the point of passing out on the floor and volcano vomiting into your eye. Or you could do me a favor and shoot this post along to your friends because fiscalcian merquatia, crisstarias! Translation: Grassroots marketing, bitches!