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I've had my first experience with Craigslist.com, and I'm happy to report it was a positive one.
In the wake of the massive influx of DVDs I'm undergoing (I'm calling them "birthday presents" when they would more accurately be described as an "ill-afforded shopping spree," but that's our little secret), I noticed suddenly that our DVD rack was near full to bursting. The latest haul: Crash, The Relic and Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy. Winging their way to me as we speak: South Park Season 7 and an as yet undisclosed title from my friend JeffyJeff in England (which is the only one that can rightfully be called a "birthday present"). Since it would be unrealistic to pretend that I'm never going to buy another DVD for the rest of my life, something had to be done about the storage shortage.
Last weekend I sprang into action, dragging Tery down to Lowe's to enact my original plan for the space -- a shelving system that would not only look less like it belongs in a dorm room but would have the added benefit of future expansion possibilities without bringing in still more mismatched furniture to our living room. Such a system was installed, not without the exchange of angry, tense words (which usually characterize any attempt to get Tery away from Nascar/baseball/golf on her days off), and it looks quite breathtaking.
However we were then left with an extra DVD rack, too nice to toss in the trash but too large to sell on eBay. I remembered my friend Gerry trying to get me to buy a used computer monitor off Craigslist (advice which I ignored at the time, but it has proven useful after all). Worth a try, I decided. I composed a brief ad, posted it and went about my day. Imagine my surprise when I received a reply about four hours later from a guy claiming to already have two identical units and looking for a third to match. What were the freakin' odds?
I was at first delighted to be getting rid of it so handily, but my delight soon gave way to doubt. What WERE the odds that this guy just happened to be cruising the ads and found the exact same unit that matched his within four hours of my posting it? The odds that he might actually be some kind of sexual predator or torture killer searching for the keywords "pick-up only" seemed far, far greater. It's sad that we have to worry about such a thing, but in this day and age you hear the most gruesome stories happening as a result of someone's foolishly misplaced trust.
We began a steady email correspondence to arrange a pick-up time. I mentioned this was my first Craigslist transaction and subtly hinted at the amazing coincidence of his speedy reply. He reassured me Craigslist was funny that way sometimes. He told me he was an ex-military man who could find his way easily to my house after being overseas and described his hectic night work schedule, personal details that I felt were completely unnecessary and therefore probably all part of his act. The more he tried to soothe me, the more he sounded like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Even his screen name, "Robdaddy," seemed like a carefully calculated element of his harmless image; "Awww, he has kids, he couldn't POSSIBLY be evil." In conversation he sounded like a nice enough guy, but hell, even I can seem nice in emails.
The night before our rendezvous I only half-jokingly asked my male co-workers if any of them wanted to hang out with me until the transaction was completed. They laughed at my (half) joke. C'mon guys, I'm not asking you to replace my bathtub, just sit there and look manly and intimidating! People asked why I didn't just do it while Tery was home, and I explained that if he was going to kill me, he could just as easily kill Tery too, leaving a house full of orphaned animals. After they'd all had a jolly good laugh at my expense I said that if I didn't show up to work the following night they would know the reason why. And that they'd all be sorry when I was gone (okay, this last was actually muttered darkly to myself).
But the following morning dawned with an even more dire problem at hand. We had lost our internet connection! The modem sat practically lifeless with only one light on, despite several system reboots (my cure-all for any computer ills. Call any tech support line, I can almost guarantee this will be the first thing they tell you to try). I scheduled an emergency service call with Comcast and sat despondently on the couch to wait for them and Rob, my potential rapist/killer. Just typical of my life, I thought, that I had to spend what could be my last day on earth without internet access.
It was while trying to fill these empty hours that I became uncomfortably aware of just how internet-dependent I have become. My thoughts drifted occasionally to what I COULD be doing, all of which unfortunately required...you guessed it. "Oh yeah, I got paid Friday. I can order South Park now" -- No, you can't. "I could catch up on my friends list" -- Too bad. "I need to list some more items on eBay" -- Get over it already. And of course, the biggest annoyance of all: "I could be working and earning money" -- Knock it off. And frankly this conversation is becoming tiresome. Even after Rob came and went without incident, my modesty and pulse intact, my first thought was "I need to go back to the site and delete my ad" -- Oh for god's sake I can't believe what a LOSER you are.
Comcast came and went equally without incident (the outside connection had somehow come undone), but by that point I was too exhausted from hours of doing nothing and opted for a nap before my night job. Rather anticlimactic, but my life frequently is.
But tonight......TONIGHT! I'm going to see Silent Hill. I've invited no less than 3 friends to go with me, I'm THAT scared to see it alone. I also found used copies of the video games (chapters 2-4, chapter 1 is evidently out of print and sellers are taking full advantage of this fact), the last of my "birthday presents," the playing of which will have to wait until after the movie thanks to the work week from hell I just finished. This movie looks so scary I'm actually nervous that I'll have nightmares (which is probably silly; the only movie that has ever given me nightmares was a little shark flick in the summer of 1975), but I'm willing to risk it because when I feel scared I feel ALIVE.
In the wake of the massive influx of DVDs I'm undergoing (I'm calling them "birthday presents" when they would more accurately be described as an "ill-afforded shopping spree," but that's our little secret), I noticed suddenly that our DVD rack was near full to bursting. The latest haul: Crash, The Relic and Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy. Winging their way to me as we speak: South Park Season 7 and an as yet undisclosed title from my friend JeffyJeff in England (which is the only one that can rightfully be called a "birthday present"). Since it would be unrealistic to pretend that I'm never going to buy another DVD for the rest of my life, something had to be done about the storage shortage.
Last weekend I sprang into action, dragging Tery down to Lowe's to enact my original plan for the space -- a shelving system that would not only look less like it belongs in a dorm room but would have the added benefit of future expansion possibilities without bringing in still more mismatched furniture to our living room. Such a system was installed, not without the exchange of angry, tense words (which usually characterize any attempt to get Tery away from Nascar/baseball/golf on her days off), and it looks quite breathtaking.
However we were then left with an extra DVD rack, too nice to toss in the trash but too large to sell on eBay. I remembered my friend Gerry trying to get me to buy a used computer monitor off Craigslist (advice which I ignored at the time, but it has proven useful after all). Worth a try, I decided. I composed a brief ad, posted it and went about my day. Imagine my surprise when I received a reply about four hours later from a guy claiming to already have two identical units and looking for a third to match. What were the freakin' odds?
I was at first delighted to be getting rid of it so handily, but my delight soon gave way to doubt. What WERE the odds that this guy just happened to be cruising the ads and found the exact same unit that matched his within four hours of my posting it? The odds that he might actually be some kind of sexual predator or torture killer searching for the keywords "pick-up only" seemed far, far greater. It's sad that we have to worry about such a thing, but in this day and age you hear the most gruesome stories happening as a result of someone's foolishly misplaced trust.
We began a steady email correspondence to arrange a pick-up time. I mentioned this was my first Craigslist transaction and subtly hinted at the amazing coincidence of his speedy reply. He reassured me Craigslist was funny that way sometimes. He told me he was an ex-military man who could find his way easily to my house after being overseas and described his hectic night work schedule, personal details that I felt were completely unnecessary and therefore probably all part of his act. The more he tried to soothe me, the more he sounded like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Even his screen name, "Robdaddy," seemed like a carefully calculated element of his harmless image; "Awww, he has kids, he couldn't POSSIBLY be evil." In conversation he sounded like a nice enough guy, but hell, even I can seem nice in emails.
The night before our rendezvous I only half-jokingly asked my male co-workers if any of them wanted to hang out with me until the transaction was completed. They laughed at my (half) joke. C'mon guys, I'm not asking you to replace my bathtub, just sit there and look manly and intimidating! People asked why I didn't just do it while Tery was home, and I explained that if he was going to kill me, he could just as easily kill Tery too, leaving a house full of orphaned animals. After they'd all had a jolly good laugh at my expense I said that if I didn't show up to work the following night they would know the reason why. And that they'd all be sorry when I was gone (okay, this last was actually muttered darkly to myself).
But the following morning dawned with an even more dire problem at hand. We had lost our internet connection! The modem sat practically lifeless with only one light on, despite several system reboots (my cure-all for any computer ills. Call any tech support line, I can almost guarantee this will be the first thing they tell you to try). I scheduled an emergency service call with Comcast and sat despondently on the couch to wait for them and Rob, my potential rapist/killer. Just typical of my life, I thought, that I had to spend what could be my last day on earth without internet access.
It was while trying to fill these empty hours that I became uncomfortably aware of just how internet-dependent I have become. My thoughts drifted occasionally to what I COULD be doing, all of which unfortunately required...you guessed it. "Oh yeah, I got paid Friday. I can order South Park now" -- No, you can't. "I could catch up on my friends list" -- Too bad. "I need to list some more items on eBay" -- Get over it already. And of course, the biggest annoyance of all: "I could be working and earning money" -- Knock it off. And frankly this conversation is becoming tiresome. Even after Rob came and went without incident, my modesty and pulse intact, my first thought was "I need to go back to the site and delete my ad" -- Oh for god's sake I can't believe what a LOSER you are.
Comcast came and went equally without incident (the outside connection had somehow come undone), but by that point I was too exhausted from hours of doing nothing and opted for a nap before my night job. Rather anticlimactic, but my life frequently is.
But tonight......TONIGHT! I'm going to see Silent Hill. I've invited no less than 3 friends to go with me, I'm THAT scared to see it alone. I also found used copies of the video games (chapters 2-4, chapter 1 is evidently out of print and sellers are taking full advantage of this fact), the last of my "birthday presents," the playing of which will have to wait until after the movie thanks to the work week from hell I just finished. This movie looks so scary I'm actually nervous that I'll have nightmares (which is probably silly; the only movie that has ever given me nightmares was a little shark flick in the summer of 1975), but I'm willing to risk it because when I feel scared I feel ALIVE.
