Perhaps I was in a car accident that resulted in a severe head injury, an injury such that I forgot about being in a car accident. Or maybe a big chunk of brain just spontaneously fell out of my ear or was stolen by the underwear gnomes. In any case, I have not had anything good to write about in MONTHS! Let’s face it; things have never been that great around here.
In terrible desperation, I posted an ad on Craigslist:
WRITE MY NEXT BLOG ENTRY (Seattle)
Reply to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Date: 2006-06-26, 12:36PM PDT
I have a personal website and am brain dead. I invite you to please write my next blog entry on any topic you want: personal, rant, art, political, whatever. Just send it to me and I will post it. Thanks.
this is in or around Seattle
no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I never expected anyone to take me up on it and by morning I had forgotten all about it. When I checked my email today, I was quite surprised to find two people had actually responded. The first email I got went like this:
“I can do writings for you. Please get bak to me.”
But the second email I got had my next blog entry perfectly typed up and ready to go without any further comments or request to somehow repay the favor. Thank you, Craigslist, for once again being there for me in my time of need, and thank you, strange man, for being willing to help me out.
Without further ado, I present you with:
I've got seventeen fucking free-loaders waiting for me to let them sleep on my couch.
Do you believe this shit?
I go on to Craigslist one day and search for the same thing I've searched for for at least 7 months - never with even a single result:
Price Range: $1 - $20
It's not that I'm a cheapskate. Far from it, buddy.
It's simply that I want a big, comfortable couch, and I don't want to spend more than $1 - $20.
Do I think a big, comfortable couch is worth more than $20? Hell yeah, I do. I just didn't want to pay for it.
I used to own a futon. It wasn't comfortable.
But no one used to want to crash on it.
I was alone. I was happy. I would sit, back in knots and spine crumpled, on my terrible futon in the peace and quiet of my own home.
One day, not long ago, there it was, you see, the $1 - $20 sectional couch.
It even had a picture. It wasn't polka-dotted. It wasn't plastic. It was nice. I think they called the color "sage."
Oh, that fucking couch.
I bought it immediately. My email was succinct and stressed my seriousness: "I'll pay $20!!"
The response was immediate. The guy even offered to drop it off.
"Does it smell like shit?" I had to ask. Why else would someone want so badly to rid themselves of a sage sectional sofa?
"It does not. It smells much like nothing at all," said the seller.
"Is it terribly uncomfortable?" Aside from stench, it was the only other reason why someone would so badly want to rid themselves of a sage sectional sofa.
"As a matter of fact, it is quite the opposite. It is, perhaps, the most comfortable sectional sofa you've ever sat in."
I simply couldn't understand, but, since I've been taught never to look my $20 sage sectional sofa in the mouth - I quickly sealed the deal with the Craigslister and was the proud new owner of a sage sectional sofa that was, in all truth, the most comfortable sectional sofa I've ever sat in.
I invited my friends over, post-haste.
They arrived in droves, excited to finally sit on something in my living room that didn't cause or irritate spinal injury.
But then, I learned what was wrong with the sage sectional sofa. No one wanted to leave it.
"It's comfortable. Really comfortable. Can I stay here for a couple of days? My apartment is being bug bombed."
"My girlfriend has her mom in town."
"My upstairs neighbor had a water leak, my place is flooded."
"I got evicted."
"My roommate bought 3 cats. I'm allergic to all 3 of them."
"My place got broken into. I'm scared to stay there."
"I have springs poking me on my mattress."
"My neighbor plays 'The Pretenders' all night long."
"I turned my bed into a ping pong table and I can't fall asleep on it."
"I've lost my keys. My spare key was attached to them."
"There is a ferret loose in my condo. My cousin brought him over and then lost him. It might have run out, but I'm not taking that risk."
"The cops have been staked out in front of my place for days. It may be the feds, even."
"I ate some Pringles in my bed and now I've got cockroaches. I ate Pringles on my couch too."
"My wife hogs the bed."
"My dog hogs the bed."
"I don't have any blankets. I wouldn't feel right taking one of yours to my house."
"I'm too drunk to drive home. Or at least I plan to be."
They are clever bastards, too. They keep asking and I keep getting caught in my lies that I made up to tell them no.
I want to enjoy my new sectional sofa. Why should they get to?
Right now, it's a little past 1am. I'm typing this in my bedroom, hoping that if I'm quiet, they'll go away.
It hasn't worked for the past 2 hours, but I'm thinking they're getting tired. They stopped saying "I got dibs on the couch" about 15 minutes ago.
I'm getting exhausted.
I love that sectional sofa, it's perfectly muted sage is quite relaxing to the eye.
I don't know if this is worth it though.
Maybe I'll try to sell it.
My futon is still down on the sidewalk.
It's uncomfortable and I'm sure now it smells like shit.