|WEEK IN CRAIG: SOMEWHERE IN THE SWAMPS OF JERSEY.|
A few months ago my mother finally packed up ship, stuffed away any lingering sentimentality, and did what any sensible semi-retired Grandma would do she got the hell out of Dodge. In other words, she moved to the cows-meet-the-malls wasteland that is Western Jersey.
Over the past couple of months, a lot of people (people whose parents have inevitably kept their childhood bedrooms perfectly preserved for the past ten years instead of immediately turning them into extra bedrooms for so-called "guests" the second they went away to college) have asked me how it feels to have no childhood home to go to on the holidays. I usually tell them that it's been hard, but with the help of my therapist, I'm learning to live through the pain. I tell them that I'm just taking it one day at a time. And then, for dramatic effect, a little tear wells up in my eye, and I rush into the bathroom muttering, "excuse me, I'm sorry, it's just that the wound is still too fresh "
Righto. Anyway, the funny thing about my childhood home (which no longer exists! Sob! Cry! Waaa!) was the peculiar lure to the neighborhood it provided for rappers. (Seriously. Rappers! No shit.) I grew up in a modest little house in a fairly crappy little neighborhood. However, when I was a kid, some genius got the bright idea to build some super duper luxury condos across the street from my house. When I was younger, the condos represented nothing more than a place with a swimming pool to sneak into at night in order to get arrested for trespassing. As I got older, however, the condos came to be a place where, well, you might get shot by Tupac.
Over the years, it provided me with endless pleasure to hear my mother ranting about "that big fat rapper -- oh, you know the one -- the really fat one! Glorious B.I.G.? No, that's not it. Come on, I know you know his name " and how he was arrested for having a drug and weapons cache that included marijuana, a couple of handguns, an AK-47, and like, a blowgun or something, across the street from my mom's house. It never ceased to amuse me when she reported seeing Li'l Kim heading into the gym "wearing next to nothing! What a floozy!" Or, when with great motherly disappointment, she derided DMX for getting arrested up the street for having 16 pit bulls in his house (some kind of violation of animal rights?) and a bunch of sawed-off shot-guns.
Ahh, sweet childhood home, how I miss thee!
Anyway, in honor of my old stomping grounds, this week's column goes out to all my homies on craigslist in Jersey. You think that craigslist New York is only used by people trying desperately to make a connection with another human being as they sit in their dreary, pathetic little offices in Midtown, barely able to dull the pain of monotony? Well, you're right. But this one's for my G's across the river. Like Tupac said, pour out a little liquor for your real motherfuckin' partners.
I'm new here and I'm going to study in TCONJ in Ewing. I'd like to know some guy who study there. I'm a real cute girl. I like rock-metal. I love adventurous and intrigue.
Oh, the good ol' College of New Jersey. Now, if that don't say book learnin,' I don't know what does!
Note the mastery of the English language that this bright young 21-year old utilizes in the sentence "I'd like to know some guy who study there." It makes you wonder: Is she foreign, or just educated at TCONJ? Hard to say, really. Anyway, I like rock-metal! And I love adventurous and intrigue! Let's totally be palsie pals!
Hey sexy ladies out there what's goin on? I'm a 24 y/o in Central Jersey looking for any female who thinks they can handle my big Italian Sausage. I'm lookin for some no-strings attached fun anytime anywhere. If you're hot and sexy and between 18 and 33, get in touch with me for a guaranteed good time. Warning: If you don't like it big, please move on. 9+ inches here.
Why is it that men feel that it is ok to think of their genitals as sandwich items? I mean, shit. What if women did that? Come over and play with my spaghetti and meatballs, baby? Hey big boy, wanna rock my cornbeef hash? My tuna melt's waiting for you? Get your fine ass over here and dive into my English muffin?
It's fucking gross, guys. If you don't want me to call my crotch a fish taco, then please refer to calling yours an Italian Sausage. Thanks.
I'm very bored so I feel romantic but it has been impossible find
somebody I like.
Hi. If anyone has any idea what the fuck this chick is talking about, please let me know. Didn't Alanis already kinda play out calling something ironic when it's really just stupid? As far as I can tell, she seems to be implying that as a result of her boredom, she's feeling romantic and the irony of the situation is that she is only receiving stupid "replys" from her craigslist ad.
Honey, that's not irony. Irony is rain on your wedding day. It's a free ride when you've already paid. The good advice that you just didn't take.
Irony is not feeling horny and having ugly dudes respond to your personal ad.
Anyway, good luck finding that beautiful rocker guy. For anyone who gives a crap, here's her original ad. Hee.
I'm really tired of all this. I just want to know a beautiful rocker and free guy who makes me smile. A guy who keeps his word! I feel veery bored today so I feel romantic, too. f you are handsome, white, tall, reply this post. If not, do not waste ur time! And I speak like this because I REALLY deserve a beautiful company next to me.... I cannot believe I cannot find some.
God, that makes me happy. What up, Jerz!