CRAIGSLIST IS SOME CRAZY BULLSH*T!

Fresh and Easy Pasadena - m4m (Pasadena)



Hi. We literally ran into each other near the dairy section. You had a cart, I was wearing roller blades. I fell and knocked you down--you helped me up. Sorry about the eggs that broke. I offered to pay for your shirt to be dry-cleaned because you spilled your Peet's coffee all over yourself. You were so nice. What color are my eyes? You commented on them. I owe you a coffee.


As you can see, Craigslist can bring us true love, or at least sad (yet, classy) attempts to find love. If “Eggs Guy” wanted to know Mr. Rollerblades, (I hate people who ride them indoors) he would have made it happen. Drop it, Mr. Rollerblades, and roll on to the next tragic encounter. (Ouch. Harsh.) Craigslist.com can bring us more than just “love.” It can also hook us up with sex, jobs, used cars and many other things. It is an online world of crazy sh*t! From my experience, the best use of Craigslist.com is to find a roommate and an apartment. It is free and easy. (Like most guys in West Hollywood.)


Many of us have lived with roommates. We have experienced living with friends or strangers through out college or after college. We have learned how to communicate about issues that come up with our cohabiters. We have learned the other person’s (or people’s) schedule and how that person does things. We have learned how it is to live with someone who has a significant other that may stay over all of the d*mn time. (Bitch, pay rent!) We have braved the ups and downs of living with someone. Sadly, for some of us, we have had more downs with roommates than ups. This is the case for me.


I want to take a break from all the dating talk and focus on a different type of relationship. I want to help in a new way and pass on my vast knowledge. I have lived alone for the last two years, and there is a reason for that. Let me tell you about my history in Los Angeles using Craigslist.com. These stories may make you laugh or cry, but they will definitely make you screen roommates from now on. (Don’t screen, just live alone.)


Understand that before moving to L.A., I had bad luck with roommates even then. There was my gothic college roommate who I saw five times in three months. There were the frat boys for a summer who were f*ckin’ crazy bastards. There was the house of 10 people, and all those f*ckin’ crazy bastards. Then there was the roommate who left lovely notes to me, addressing me as “fudge packer,” and “butt pirate” after I came out, and our friendship went south. (You think?) He was a bastard! Not just any bastard, but a pale-ass homely bastard with nibblet teeth. (You know the kind of teeth that look like the tooth is running away fro the gums.)


So, when I prepared to move to Los Angeles, I lined up an apartment. I wanted no drama or assh*les. I was planning to live in a great apartment in the heart of West Hollywood with a UCLA graduate student. He was cool, around my age and just getting over a break-up. He was emotionally ready to want company, but not going to try and get on me. (Perfect!) I was so excited and happy that it was all working out. One week before I was getting ready to move, he called me. (Of course he did.) Come to find out the bitch got back together with his ex-boyfriend and he didn’t want to include a roommate. (F*ck me, right!)


I instantly jumped on Craigslist to figure out what my options were. I searched like a whore looking for a customer on Santa Monica Blvd. so that he could get his fix after he earned $20. I was crazed! I eventually found a guy who was renting out his living room in a one-bedroom apartment, but bitch please, that was beneath Colby. And really, a $1,000 for the sofa? (Welcome to L.A.!) Well, ladies, I had to take it because I ran out of time. We had several phone conversations that week, and I moved in that weekend. I moved in so quickly, I felt like a lesbian after a first date. (Um, U-Haul anyone?) He seemed normal enough, but I guess, so did Ted Bundy to some of his victims.


I moved in, and we are going to fast-forward past the requests that I share his bad, past the weird men who came to our door and past his zit-popping in general areas we both used. Oh yes, he was a gem! Can you imagine a man like that being single? Can’t be! Well, I would like to say that he also liked to streak by the TV fully nude, and he really should have warned a bitch before showing that business off. (If I didn’t want to share the bed before, I really didn’t want to after that spectacle.) He also liked to say “Yeah, Jesus!” after random things, like getting a pound of apples at Smart & Final for $2. Yeah, Jesus! (Who knows what he said while orgasming.) Needless to say, I left after about two months.


Next, I moved in with the “Russian Liar.” He was a straight guy that said he rarely had guests, never did drugs and that his parents had held on to the apartment for years. (That part was true.) I thought it would work out splendidly. Shortly after moving in, my bathroom went tits up, and he would not contact the building to fix it. The building was 99% Russian and the management didn’t know about me, so I was at his mercy. Then he started smoking pot with friends and his new “live-in girlfriend” (no friends, my hot ass!) all of the time, and then I found out that I paid $1,050 for rent (plus mutha’ f*ckin’ utilities) and the rent was $1,175. I kid you not! Mommy and Daddy kept it under the old lease and it was rent-controlled. I left one weekend he was gone since I never signed anything. I left him a lovely note detailing what I found out about the rent and peaced out. Needless to say he was not happy.


SIDE NOTE: That building was amazing! It was a dump, but the people were so blatantly honest … my dream come true. I said to him one day, “I feel like everyone stares at me when I am in the lobby. They stop talking and look at me. Is it me?” He said, “Yes. You aren’t Russian and they can tell.” It was amazing! For the first time in my life it wasn’t me jumping to conclusions. From then on, I waved and smiled to every bitch in that f*ckin’ lobby. I loved them!


I then moved into a place alone, but got lonely and decided to have roommates again. I then took up residence in a house in east Hollywood with three queens. These bitches don’t deserve a long story. It ended after their house parties and other bullsh*t with a conversation amongst the four of us. (“House meeting." ) Am I in a sorority? (Tri-Fags?) They informed me that it was not working out. They said I never helped them clean up after their parties (that I never was present for) and that I never helped them garden. (Que?) Let me fill you in on this little tidbit. When the “gardening” was mentioned, I told them, “Bitches, I rent for a reason. When you decided to put the “garden” in, I told you that it was your business, which you agreed to. It was not my thing. Okaaay?” This lady doesn’t hoe or mow. I was voted out.


Next on the list was an apartment in Woodland “Gateway to Hell” Hills. I didn’t know about that area, the temperature and the traffic when I made this move. It coincided with my time at the clothing optional hotel, so life was f*ckin’ grand. (Read the blog on bad jobs.) The guy renting out the two rooms seemed okay, and the other renter was cool. (We ended up tickling the pickle. Mmmmm, pickles.) We soon saw that the guy, who rented to us, was um, how you say? Bat-sh*t crazy! He would have tricks over at 5 a.m., and I would run into them in the dark in MY bathroom. (WTF?) It sealed the deal when we (the normal ones) walked out to find him naked, face up and drugged out in the middle of the living room at 8 a.m. It was like a sitcom. We walked out in our PJs, both looked down at the same time, then up at each other without saying a word and walked right back into our rooms. We put our notice in to the building that day.


I lived alone for the next year and a half because an apartment came with my new job. Are you tired yet? Do you want to shut yourself away from people altogether? I am sweating as I type. Fast forward to a new position with my current employer, and I was back on Craigslist.


I moved in with a roommate once again. An Australian guy who was renting out a room in his condo. This roommate was so off-his-meds insane that I fear typing about him because he might read this and come after me. He was abusive, rude, and bipolar, had ADHD and had several addictions. One of them being sex with anything that had a d*ck. Ugly, fat and old included! I ran away and left a bed, two lamps, a rug and anything he stole from my packed boxes. (I am not kidding.) He needs deported, but I am sure Australia would pay to fix the oil spill down South before taking him back.


Then I moved in with a woman and we got along, but that b*tch was a mooooch! She also liked to invite the ladies from 18-and-over clubs to our place. (Mind you she was 35 years old.) I am telling you, it has been an amazing Craigslist ride.


I now live alone with my dog. Though I hate my neighbors, I don’t have to live with them in my apartment. From being referred to as a butt pirate to having my things stolen, and from hooking up with roommates to drugged-out slutty skanks, I have experienced it all.


Los Angeles is a wonderful place, and Craigslist.com can be used for good, but screen all the applicants. Listen to your gut. It is better to crash with a friend and store your belongings while you find the perfect place then to get stuck with a psycho nudist. Can you feel me? Relationships can be tricky, but at least with dating you get sex out of it. With a roommate (though I got some sex, okaaay) you don’t get the sex, but you still have to put up with the issues and moods.


Let me leave you all with a few rules when looking for a new roommate:


1. Screen the sh*t out of prospects. Exchange emails, talk on the phone and hang out at least two times one-on-one. You need to see if the chemistry will work between the two of you. You need to know if this person has a tendency to steal from a bitch, or use the last of your mutha’ f*ckin’ Jiff peanut butter. (I lived that.) Also, you want a heads-up if you are going to get stuck with paying the utilities because he becomes unemployed. (Again, lived that.)


2. Ask questions. Know what you are moving in with. That person comes with issues, friends and a whole lot of other things. Find out the dirt, but in a get-to-know-you way. If there is going to be drama and sh*t, get out while you can.


3. Answer the questions they ask, but like a first date, put your best foot forward. No one wants to hear about your drama and sh*t.


4. Use your head, bitches, and listen to you gut. That is most important!


Happy hunting ladies!