8 Super Weird But Awesome Craigslist Ads

Like & Follow Us On Facebook!
Like it? Share it!
Share on FacebookPin on PinterestTweet about this on TwitterShare on Google+Share on StumbleUponShare on Reddit

Craigslist

There are so many great, funny and weird Craigslist ads out there that we could post 8 per day for your viewing pleasure and the posts would be endless. That would be silly however, who wants to read awesome, funny and weird Craigslist ads every day?

I do! So with that said, we are going to share a bunch of these awesome, funny and weird ads with you daily…just because we can!

*The titles we use are the actually titles of the ads that were placed on Craigslist.

**Some of the ads use strong language and may be in sexual nature. Read at your own risk. 

 

1. LET’S FUCKING FRISBEE 

No frisbee golf, no ultimate. Don’t care what race or gender you are. Not trying to jack off or fuck anyone. All I wanna do is toss a goddamned frisbee at you, and you throw it back. I don’t care if you’re any good. Let’s just try this shit. Yes, I am awesome at frisbee throwing and catching (especially for a man of my portly stature), but don’t let that intimidate you. Embrace my awesome. Have a drink from my flask. Let’s do this shit.

frisbee

2. Dildo mobile 

This mobile was created by me after a tenant who I had to evict after 6 months of not paying rent left behind 10 dildos I was determined to do
SOMETHING with them hence this dildo mobile
My present landlord where I live now says “it’s got to go out of the
Common garage area ” it’s to large for my room

clist3 clist1 dclist2

3. Did you lose a ham? – 9 May 2014

Perhaps a bear broke into your kitchen and stole it from the counter where it was cooling, and then discarded it because it was overly salty. Or maybe you and some other scenesters you just met were snacking on it during Moogfest but then when you woke up Monday morning next to the trash cans in Chicken Alley it was gone. I’m not sure of all the possible scenarios under which someone might lose a ham.

It’s in worse shape than it was when I saw it last night, perhaps due to the rain or a random vagrant gnawing on it. The browned fat on the outside isn’t so deliciously crispy looking this morning. It’s a bone-in ham, not sure it’s obvious from the photo, and it’s been eaten on some, but there’s definitely some serious meat left on it. Looks like it was pretty tasty in its day.

Anyway, it’s laying on the mulch in between the civic center and the sidewalk. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know where it is.

clist4

4. Lay on your stomach while pregnant – 5 Mar 2014

I purchased a mattress and cut a hole out of so that my wife could lay on her stomach while she was pregnant. I don’t think you could use it while you are late in your pregnancy, but it’s nice until then.
The mattress is super clean and there isn’t anything wrong with it.
She isn’t pregnant anymore, so, if you come get it, you can have it.

clist5

5. Look under your dresser – 27 Feb 2014

About 6 years ago, perhaps longer I was subletting a friends room. While he was away I pulled out all of his dresser drawers and painted underneath them an aquatic scene. I never told him about it and he ended up selling the thing. Do you remember buying a dresser in the sunset? Would you like to take a quick peek under there, you might find a seahorse couple. I don’t want the dresser back I just want to find out where it went.

clist6

6. Neurosurgeon Needed Asap

Hello. I would like to trade a 2006 mustang gt for the removal or suction of an egg sized brain cyst.

The Mustang Gt is white with gray leather interior. Tinted windows. AC, electric windows and seat. Automatic Transmission. Has all the bells and whistles, including a new DVD touch screen Deck, Shaker 500 sound and less than 40,000 on the odometer.

The cyst is behind my right eyeball and looks fairly easy to get at. I’d try to get at it myself, but I’ve been trembling and had to bad of a headache to attempt any solo surgery.

I don’t have insurance, but I have had the same job for the last 16 years. I need help but the system is hard to work through. $260 or more every time I talk to a Dr. And every Dr. I have talked to wants to take blood tests and prescribe drugs that have not helped. All my blood work over the last 3 years has been normal. The cyst is the only abnormal thing I have. I can borrow money and sell the car. I’m using this ad as a last ditch attempt to get help. If you know a surgeon willing to look at my records, I will mail them and the DVD with 2 brain scans.
I’m going to loose everything if someone cant help me. I don’t want, and have been denied medicaid, because I want to work, but its getting harder to do the things I like to do.
Thanks

clist7 clist8

7. We were married for three days in 1989, and I saw you on the subway

In the winter of 1989 I transferred to NYU from the University of Southern Maine, intent upon studying poetry, nursing youthful fantasies of literary success. I was terribly nervous about making friends — in addition to submerging myself in a completely unfamiliar, and overwhelming urban environment, I was terribly shy, often displaying a reluctant timidity towards strangers.

You lived in the same dorm building as me — a mishmash of dimly lit and shabbily painted converted office space on West 10th street. You, and a small handful of high school friends, had come to college together from Chicago. You had red hair, your favorite band was The Replacements, you were studying French, and we were introduced by my new roommate.

You and your Chicago friends were nice enough to take me out on the town several times in those first few weeks and in the process we struck up a casual romance — although the youthful pressure to keep things “casual” often yanked at the oversensitive ventricles of my heart.

It was on a Sunday evening, when a small group of friends was smoking weed in your dorm room and watching Brewster’s Millions, that one of our friends proposed the bet: the first person in the room to get married would be awarded $30 — the cost of a New York State marriage license. The next morning, inspired as much by the novelty of the bet as my affection for you, I asked if you wanted to go to City Hall and get married — you said yes.

The Justice of the Peace looked like Hank Williams Jr. and reeked of whiskey. We signed the marriage license, and on our walk back uptown to Washington Square, we ducked into bar after bar, brandishing our new union as a means of getting free drinks. Half-drunk, and half-in love, we returned to the dorm room, where our roommates, laughing through their disbelief, pooled together thirty dollars.

Fearing our family’s reactions — three days later we had the marriage annulled, and again, this time with paperwork indicating our “separation,” managed to get some free drinks out of the deal. For the rest of the semester I slept in your bed, jokingly referring to you as my ex-wife.

Two weeks before the end of the semester, I received word that my estranged father — an ex-pat living in rural Japan, was dying of cancer of the esophagus. I left immediately to go to his bedside, watching him teeter on life and death for the next six months. As this was pre-internet, and my father’s village lacked even telephone lines, we lost touch.

That brings me to today. This morning, the L train was typically hectic — car after car was so packed to the brim with people, that I was waiting patiently for a less crowded train to board. At one moment, looking up from my newspaper, we made eye contact — you were packed in like a sardine among the other morning commuters. I saw the flash of recognition in your eyes, our jaws dropping in disbelief.

I stayed in Japan for another eight years, before returning to the United States where I built a decent career writing, not poems, but teleplays. I have lived all over the country, but only recently moved back to New York. I am once divorced, and have two daughters.

When I saw you, I felt all those years folding in on themselves, and have now spent the entire morning wondering what your life is like. It is perhaps an absurd suggestion, but would you maybe like to get a cup of coffee and catch up on a quarter century of life?

 

8. Life-size & anatomically correct dolls

It is with much sorrow I must give away life-size & anatomically correct dolls that I purchase years ago when I lonely. I married now & wife say they must go. Please be kind to them. Their names Suzie, Sakiya, & Tenshi.

clist9

Remember to share with your friends!

Like it? Share it!
Share on FacebookPin on PinterestTweet about this on TwitterShare on Google+Share on StumbleUponShare on Reddit
Like & Follow Us On Facebook!
jelly1