A fellow Yabasta member got the swine flu… no more jokes will be made about the swine.
“Swine Flu Days are better than Snow Days” said the 13 year-old degenerate school kid from Queens. (future crack-head)
Wingwoman Needed to Help Dude Score Chicks; $30 an Hour, No Free Drinks
$30/hour: Personal Introduction Assistant / “wingwoman” (Midtown)
Reply to:job-9qnwa-1179876392@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-05-20, 6:42AM EDTWe have an opening for a part-time personal introduction assistant, aka a “wingwoman.”
You must be classy and dress well.
Beyond that you must be able to do 4 things: 1) start conversations with beautiful women; 2) after that, remain totally silent, unless spoken directly to, but smile and look friendly while the man you are “winging” orchestrates the social situation; 3) socialize and block any man or woman attempting to interfere with the man you are winging and any woman he is chatting with; and 4) end any conversation you are having instantly at the direction of the man you are winging. These requirements are essential, not for everyone, and difficult to do well.
Now, this is a job (that’s why you get paid), but it’s very fun, and you may even make new friends, or even meet someone special, if it doesn’t interfere with your primary employment purpose.
This job is not for you if you are uptight, frumpy, grumpy, shy, a man-hater, a debbie downer, a critic, a control freak, a pouter, a therapist, researching, writing an article, with the press, a prostitute, an escort, a relationship counselor, or a feminist with a bone to pick. Gack.
You must be 18, usually 21 for the events we attend. All work is in public at cocktail parties, charity benefits, museum openings, and the like. You will be added to any list in advance, and any fees for the event will be paid. You are responsible for transportion. Subways are $2. Although many events have free food and drink, this isn’t dating, so don’t ask to be bought anything. If you do ask, by mistake, don’t be grumpy and bring the mood down when the answer is a polite no, or you will be paid for the time you have spent and politely sent packing.
This job is definitely for you if you are easygoing, classy, dress extremely well, and enjoy many, varied, and sometimes challenging social situations.
Our roster of full-time wingwomen is full, but we do have a part-time opening. Yes we are serious. Yes we are real. You might even have the time of your life.
Fan mail, hate mail, and non-responsive replies will not receive answers, so save us both the time and don’t bother.
Please respond with a photo and contact information to the craigslist email in this ad. Thank you for your time.
They should have came out with this years ago!
The upcoming Smart Memory Bra by Lisca lingerie senses a woman’s arousal through her body’s heat, then squeezes her boobs together accordingly. We ask, does a pushup bra really need an off switch?
The integrated memory foam bra reshapes under the influence of heat to enhance cleavage, making a woman more desirable when she’d like to be desirable. Or, you know, when she’s just a little sweaty.
There are, of course, a million ways this plan can backfire. Imagine talking to your attractive boss at a party, feeling your breasts balloon into your chin and then realizing that, right beside him, stands his loving wife and children. Her breasts, activated with the heat of rage instead of desire, swell as well.
Soon, every woman’s breasts in the company have enlarged to personal flotation device territory with the eligible bachelors in attendance having no clue which set of breasts is an invitation and which is but a coyly disguised land mine.
If you’re ready for this quasi-arousing social experiment that is Man’s future, the bra will be available in the UK this summer for about $40. [Lisca via The Sun]
If I were in college I’d do her.
Since its graduation time and one of my little sisters is graduating this weekend I decided to dedicate this post solely to the class of 2009.
My senior year in college was spent mostly drunk so I won’t be able to recall any significant memories except that I was able to avoid rent for the last 4 months from my crackhead landlord and I stole a Sbarro’s deliveryman car while on an undislosed illegal substance.
Well, this is my message for all of you recent graduates: You are on top of the world right now but come two months from now you will be level with a meth-addict that lives under the LIRR platform at Ronkokama.
Oh, and you still like Twisted Teas? Think you’re cool that you smoked weed before noon? Amateur shit. It’s time to grow up because your parents cannot support you anymore. Your future happiness relies on good parking spots and coupons and sex once a month (if you’re lucky).
You’ll start masturbating so much that sometimes the juice doesn’t come out and when it does it will be during an intense episode of another Discovery Channel episode where they blow stupid shit up.
And if an old friend from college or even high school calls you up “to catch up” you’ll suddenly feel your heart aflutter but its you just being horny. You’ll get all excited and nervous and not be yourself and not end up getting anything. You make me sick stupid college graduates.
Your degree doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t ensure you a job, doesn’t get you a salary, doesn’t mean that you’ll cure cancer, and doesn’t mean that you get a free car or even kids.
Well, my hats off to you class of 2009, you didn’t OD, you didn’t get pregnant, and you got to sleep in. Now get ready to wake up before 10am for the rest of your life.
Check out some hot sh$t from out west. Band Of Horses sample well used.
Galifianakas is king of the awkward moment.
We found this on Craigslist today and thought we’d share it with you.
Either this guy is a real pussy or he just wacked-off so much that he wacked himself out of porn life.
RIP Stranger. We’ll be by tomorrow to collect.
A Day In Prospect Park
Sunday was a perfect day for the park; 80 degrees, sunny, not a cloud in the sky. There was a little bit of wind that was just enough to cool you off. The only thing we needed now was maybe a martini and one of those cute little Asians that do you good and knows just how to relax you (while you look the other way.) Yes, it was one of those days.
But the clear sky would soon turn to dark clouds. Fuckin’ hipsters! Fuck! Suddenly we were surrounded with the smell of raggy, dirty clothes and cheap Brookyn ghetto rent.
You want to know how bad it was? Here’s one example, I heard one guy that could pass off as a crackhead or someone who has an advanced level of down syndrome give directions to his location in the park to one of his friends: “Hey Jill, we’re on the hilly noll with the pictaresque trees to the left of the neo-classical white building.” So you’re in France? At some countryside? Outside Marseille? Fuck you man.
After that, I look toward the field and there’s a group of hipsters playing kickball. What the fuck? Who plays kickball unless you are in a mental institution or at mentally retarded summer camp? Fuck you.
Just because you can’t hit a wiffle ball doesn’t mean you have to resort to aimlessly kicking a round inflatable ball. Fucking retards. Second graders will kick your ass. And you wanna know whats worse than just a regular hipster? Hipster parents.
They are inked with tats and letting their babies run around all over the place naked so everyone has to see there little ones inverted penis. Fuck you. Excuse me, Ma’am, is that your kid putting a plastic bag over its head. Oh, its okay as long as its organic I presume.
Could you please pick up those left over diapers and garbage and maybe take a shower because your kinda ruining our good time.
