Tuesday, March 24 2009 @ 12:50 PM UTC
Contributed by: B' Spokes
[From Craigslist missed connections:]
White male, late forties, brown hair, moustache
lumbering gait, resembles Carl from athf. Walking against traffic on Park ave by Madison
Girl that ran into you with bike at about 4pm yesterday, headed North on Park ave.
I was headed directly towards you, and I had to blink to make sure my eyes weren't decieving me. A vision in tapered sweat pants and matching sweater. I wasn't sure if you were going to notice me, especially after I said "excuse me" and then yelled "look out", but when you jumped directly in front of my bike, I knew it was meant to be.
I didn't know it at the time, but we must have both been struck by love. Perhaps it was the way you called me a *censored* in that Hampden-esque grunt, or the subsequent threats and challenges that ensued, but you really got my heart racing.
I didn't mean to seem uninterested, but after I fell off my bike due to you throwing your body in front of it, I got back on and biked away only because I thought you were running after me to beat the crap out of me. Forgive me, I didn't realize you were smitten until you mentioned the possibility of "teaching me a proper lesson". You ran after me for a good two blocks before giving up, at which point you yelled "you ain't even got no drawers on *censored*". I would like to clarify that I had running shorts on, and it may have appeared I was pant-less because my coat is long, but when we get married in Atlantic City (I'll wear white and you'll be appropriately three sheets to the wind on malt liqour) feel free to tell the story to our guests about how I wasn't wearing any pants when we met. I'd like to specifically take you up on your offer of a "fair and square race" on "yer legs". A healthy bit of competition in relationships is never a bad thing. Maybe we could race to the liqour store and the loser can buy a six pack of pabst. (I pegged you as a pabst drinker, personally I prefer Mickey's, but we could compromise. You seem like the reasonable type).
I bet you couldn't outrun me if I was blindfolded and had a cigarette (pal mals, baby, just for you) dangling from my mouth.
Please, dear sweet pedestrian, find me. You can teach me how to be an asshole, and I'll teach you how to walk on sidewalks, and in the right direction. I know our love will last.