Hey, we're those creepy old alumni

I'm actually so bored I don't have any motivation to do anything to alleviate the boredom. I'm not sure how I spent the time in between babysitting and getting ready for bed. But I can tell you:
-I didn't clean the bathroom
-I didn't return library books
-I didn't return clothes at the mall
-I didn't walk a block down to CVS to buy some stuff (not plan B)
-I didn't get a parking permit
-I didn't make a yummy & exciting new meal
-I didn't mail the bills that were due
-I didn't take care of the imminent avalanche in my closet
-Or the growing mountain on and underneath my desk.
-I didn't do 9 other things that were on my dry erase board

God I suck.

Just one more week and I then can complain that I hate having to be in class.

This weekend was our grand return to Union. And my first ReUnion as an alum did not disappoint...the highlight was possibly finally getting to ride the golf cart across campus, which are reserved just for visiting alumni. Easily worth the 35 grand times 4. But I also got beer at a bar that only cost $2, lied out in the sun in Jackson's gardens, played beirut, got drunk before 5:30, and stayed up until 4:30. I was also reminded of how preppy people can actually be at Union. Somehow seeing the guy that sits at the CVS a block away from my apartment, playing buckets like drums, and yelling "Four pennies and a nickel? Two dimes and a penny?" tends to make you forget about pink popped-collared shirts. Friends made bets as to how many people my roommate would hook up with, and I got drunk at Gepetto's and announced to people I barely knew, and hadn't seen in a year, that my roommate had to get Plan B because of our broker. Then I showed them pictures from my phone. I drove by Tam's Laundy and Tanning, and realized there were so many things that I never fully took advantage of during my time in Schenectady. I got a birthday cake that Losure, Heekin, and Josh frosted with their own recipe that involved lots of grape Kool-Aid. I saw people I hadn't thought about in a year, and will probably never see again. I watched the alumni weekend fireworks for probably the last time in awhile. And I saw most of the people that made my time at Union a blast...some I've seen nearly every week since I left, and others I haven't seen since graduation.

I miss Union...I miss the campus, the people (well, some), the cheap beer, the class schedule that allowed for naps and frisbee-playing, and the constant activities that made it feel like big-kid camp. I don't know whether the nostalgia is more because I know I'll never have that same experience again, or because I ate 6 rolls of Smarties and some Sour Patch Kids, and my sugar high has now hit rock bottom, resulting in a general lethargic feeling. I have a feel it's a combination of both. I must go pass out.


The good times. Back when we were young. Forties (and probably a wine cooler) by the flag pole

SKANKFEST

Until Molly reminded me, I totally forgot that this is the month of Skankfest, appropriately named by Molly last year because my birthday fell around Union's springfest weekend, and since Molly calls me Skanky Gross, it was an obvious name for the week between springfest and my birthday. And then it sort of became the whole month of May, which was fine with me because I liked having my own month. Molly even made me a really cool fluourescent t-shirt that said Skankfest 2004. But then my washing machine ate off all the letters. So anyway, Happy Skankfest to you and yours, and thanks for reminding me of ths joyous month Molly!

I've been out of commission for the past week and a half since it was the end of the semester, and god forbid I do work more than 36 hours before it's due. But I am free for a few weeks until my summer classes begin, with not much to do besides hang out with the 2nd graders and stroll around Beacon Hill with Henry. Now I'm seeing what I missed with the Union trimesters...this is sort of nice being out the second week of June. I have a slight suspicion I'll be bored by Monday afternoon.

In honor of my bedbug-loving roommate, I offer you this. Mmmmmm.


I bet they taste good covered in chocolate.

I am off Logan to head to the wonderful city of Cleveland. Enjoy Skankfest AND Friday the 13th.

05-05-05

I've been waiting for this day since 04-04-04. I just wish I had more stuff to write today's date on.

My question to you, on this very special day, is--what is wrong with people? I have Maury on (I swear I'm not watching, I needed some background noise on while I do work), and the title of this episode is, "Is my prom date my baby's father?" Enough said.
Example 2: Earlier I saw a commercial for one of those tv malpractice lawyers...who thinks it's actually a good idea to get your lawyer by calling 1-800-CALLJIM?

And example number 3, yesterday I was walking down the sidewalk in Porter Square, and a little kid hit me as I walked by him.
Just stuck his arm out and slapped my leg. And not a baby in a stroller either, a walking, talking 4 year old. But then, his dad didn't even do anything..just said "hey" to his kid....not even with a tone like, "You don't hit random people on the street."

In other news, my feet are almost fully recovered from my 20 mile stroll through Boston, Brookline, Newton, Watertown, and Cambridge this past Sunday. The steady rain through the first 3 1/2 hours of it only added to the enjoyment, but overall it wasn't too bad at all. Thanks to Kristen for the pictures!


looking hot in the rain at the halfway point..don't let the shorts fool you though, it was freezing


Kristen smells the finish line...in 5 more miles


...and I did the whole thing without beer, see?

At first I was afraid, I was petrified

I have returned...and with pictures. My only regret is that the pictures can't express the full karaoke experience. There's something special that happens when music is playing and the words start scrolling across a TV screen.


can you feel the love?

But belting out "I Will Survive" and "YMCA" wasn't the only perk of the night. Oh no, we had a belated birthday celebration for Mr. Heekin and Susan.

Just like every birthday since he was 7, before he blows out his candles Losure makes the wish that this is the year that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles come to his door and ask him to be the fifth member

The really really cool thing about having two gigantic cakes was that there isn't too much that drunk people like better than cake, besides french fries of course.
It looks pretty now...(sort of)

But a few hours later, after some flip cup, the cake looked good enough to dig right in with hands.


Gillian tries to recall from memory the bus schedule back to Schenectady


And so goes another party at 9 Acadia.

Walk for Hunger

This weekend I'm taking part in Project Bread's Walk for Hunger. I'll be walking 20 miles through Boston, Cambridge, Brookline, and Newton to raise money for families in Massachusetts. And I'm using my blog as a plug for it, letting you know that you can sponsor me and make a donation up until the end of this week. Email me at Stacy518@gmail.com if you so desire...


Better yet, you should walk too! They even give you snacks midway through!

That is all for now...potential blackmail photos of this weekend's karaoke to follow.

Bound for the cement

Inspired by the usual graphic creativity over at sexyLosure dot com, I decided to tell a story in tonight's blog using microsoft paintbrush. The drawings help paint a better picture that I could do with words alone.

It all started last night when I decided to ride my bike to class...which meant that I'd be riding it home when class got out somewhere around 10. As I turned onto Acadia Park on my return trip home, I saw that a bunch of people were out on their porch in the apartment next door to mine:


Nice night for a bike ride

Seeing all the guys out there, I decided I wanted to look cool as I hopped off my bike. Why this seemed like a good idea (and how can you even look cool as you get off your bike)..I have no clue. Anyway, I tried to get off my bike too early, while I was still rolling down the sidewalk, and the next thing I know, my foot gets stuck trying to get over the bike and I'm lying on my side on the pavement. And all of the people on the porch just stopped talking.


It's hard to look cool when you fall off your bike.

Oh, and here's a picture of what I think might be the grossest creature on earth--a baby octopus.
If my kid comes out with a see-through head, I don't think I should have to keep it

Picky Picky

As I soaked up another episode of "Extreme Makeover Home Edition: How'd They Do That?" I got to watch my roommate once again run to get her nail clippers and cut off "extra" skin. Extra skin is skin that she thinks shouldn't be there. I say, why bother cutting it off? She just replies, "Why not?" The best part though is when she lines up on her leg the chunks of skin that she's removed from the latest procedure. As I suspected, this isn't normal. This website says:

-Individuals with CSP may pick at normal skin variations such as freckles and moles, at actual pre-existing scabs, sores or acne blemishes, or at imagined skin defects that nobody else can observe.

Check

-Skin-picking may be followed by a feeling of relief or pleasure.

Check

-Individuals with CSP often attempt to camouflage the damage caused to their skin by using make-up or wearing clothes to cover the subsequent marks and scars.

She wears sweatpants even at the beach---Check

It's grosssssss.

After 4 straight years of being in New York for Patriot's Day, I was finally back in the state that celebrates it today. Spent the day in Kenmore Square, with a couple of beers on Lansdowne St. before heading out to Comm Ave for the marathon. The only disappointment was that I was without my traditional Dairy Queen Blizzard as I watched the runners painfully pounding pavement (alliteration!! yeah!) for over 3 consecutive hours. And though it makes me feel so pathetic since I struggled this morning to make it through 2 and 1/2 miles, I always am so amazed that ANYONE is capable of running without stopping for 26.2 miles.

Let alone people who are 30, 40, even 50 or more years older than me...It's pretty amazing.

Besides my 4 year stay at Union, I've been to almost every marathon since I was 7, and I look forward to certain things every year. Besides getting a cookie dough blizzard, I like holding my hand out to slap the hands of some of the runners (just the ones in the big pack...the Kenyans tend to run by without stopping to slap my hand). Mmm sweaty germs. It's also a great feeling to cheer for someone as they run by, and see them give a smile to the crowd. Easily though the highlight is seeing the Hoyts. This year was the 24th year that the father (who is in his 60s now) pushes his quadriplegic son (who's now in his 40s) in a wheelchair.

The whole entire way. It's really incredible.

This is a true story of 7 strangers

What can $400 buy you these days?

Well, a "semester" of baby music classes in Beacon Hill, for one thing. Today was my first day of taking Henry to his once a week music class, where I sang along to a song about squirrels while I pretended I was eating nuts, and a teacher named LuLu bounced around with a smile bigger than the Cinderella at a parade at Disney world, and 8 month old Henry cried because my squirrel sounds scared him.


Later LuLu made the mommies and nannies stand in the middle of the circle and pretend we were church bells

The cool thing is that the music class is inside the old fire station in Beacon Hill that the cast of Real World Boston lived in a few years ago. It's now a community center. I looked hard, but I didn't see any leftover beer cans from the drunken season.


But the picture fun doesn't end there. Last week I won a pair of tickets to the "red carpet arrivals" at Fenway for the premiere of Fever Pitch. I saw Jimmy Fallon, Drew Barrymore, a bunch of the Sox like Damon who didn't stop loving himself for 2 hours, Varitek, and Trot, plus Tom Brady and some other Pats, and others. But I only got my picture taken with one celebrity:

Wally the Green Monster kissed me after this picture was taken

Monday Monday Monday

In honor of yesterday being opening day for the sox, I give you this link, with pictures of how Johnny Damon spent the offseason. He may not be the most eloquent speaker, but he sure does have pretty hair and can party better than most 22 year olds I know.


I have a lot to do in the next month and a half, which makes me sad because I like doing nothing. This weekend I spent a little too much time playing what could be considered inappropriate drinking games about the Pope, Frank Perdue, and Terri Schiavo, though I like to think that we played them more as a tribute to their lasting legacy. No? Now though I have lots of work to catch up on, and not enough sleep to do it on, which makes me do dumb stuff like forget to get off the T at porter square and keep going until I realize I'm at Davis Square.

My new box of Cheerios had a prize in it this morning though, which kind of makes up for it...but I still don't understand why food needs "prizes" to make them enjoyable.


"Instead of number 16, cluck like a chicken and flap your wings in the direction of the next person"

More fun than the SATs

I have 4 kinds of silly putty, including one with glitter and one that glows in the dark. I have a miniature etch-a-sketch. A month ago I rollerbladed around my apartment. In short, I always suspected that I'm not actually 22. The online quiz people agree. I'm 18.

13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.

What Age Do You Act?


And then I clicked around some more, because I figured if I'm 18, I might as well do all those dumb quizzes I liked to do then. I found out stuff like

You Belong in 1974

If you scored... 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! Your Brain is 66.67% Female, 33.33% Male Your brain leans female You think with your heart, not your head Sweet and considerate, you are a giver But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

and the most inappropriate,

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

What does it all mean? I don't know. Go learn more about yourself.

Molly's 24!

Before I met Molly, I was afraid of her. I heard rumors she was scary. In fact, a friend told me a story about her friend's pug named Molly that was missing an eye because her dad hit it with a golf club. So even before I really knew her, I called her Mollz the one eyed pug. But the rumors about her being mean were completely untrue--Molly is one of the least scary people I know, and easily one of the coolest and funniest as well. Molly taught me many things:
1) There's no shame in drinking wine out of a box.
2) It's even better if you can finish off the box of wine.
3) The perfect way to cheer up during a snowy January day is by slathering up with sunscreen to remind you of summer.
4) It's possible to stay in bed for 4 consecutive days.
5) Don't be embarrassed if you drink from a sippy cup. Smart drinkers use sippy cups because red wine is hard to wash out of the carpet.
6) If a guy goes down on you, don't tell Kate right away. It's more fun to tell her after she makes out with him.
7) College juniors can also enjoy turning their bed into a permanent tent.
8) You should always find an interesting "prop" to bring along when you go out, like a boa or a funny hat.
9) If you want an interesting night out, just tell strangers in a bar that you're looking for "an adventure."

Lots of my best memories of college were living on the third floor of Geisel during sophomore year. Molly helped make it fun and unpredictable. It was always a pleasant surprise to walk out of my room to go to the bathroom at 3am, and see Molly curled up in some weird position on the hallway floor, laughing at herself and just starting her Greek homework. Exhibit A:

Don't ask, I don't know

Happy Birthday Molly!

Revelation

Sometimes I do the math in my head and realize that 1995 was ten years ago. A decade! Since 1995! It was JUST 1995. I was a freshman in high school just one year later in the fall of 1996! It blows my mind.

You know what else blows my mind? Realizing that my first "celebrity crush" is 35. Jordan Knight. He was cool. Not only was he easily the cutest guy in New Kids on the Block, but he had an earring, which obviously made him badass. And his birthday is the day before mine, plus 12 years. Clearly, in my 7 or 8 year old mind, we were meant to be together. I had a Joey McIntyre poster in my room, but only because my friend Liz gave it to me at my birthday party in 3rd grade. I had enough pins, night gowns, and collecting cards to prove that Jordan had a special place in my heart.

I wasn't just randomly thinking about Jordan Knight today. I saw a VH1 special, and he was one of the people adding some comments to the subject, like on Best Week Ever. I didn't even recognize him until his name popped up on the screen.


Then: Second from right. I used to make fun of people who liked Danny, to the right of Jordan


Now:His lucrative career draws a new set of 9 year old girls

I don't really like seeing pictures of celebrities who look a lot older than I remembered them. It throws me off. I don't really feel any different than I did 10 years ago, but seeing pictures of a celebrity that's gone gray or has a few more wrinkles reminds me that I too have aged that same amount. It's not that I dislike getting older--eventually it will be nice to have a house and a husband and a dog and kids--but the idea of almost being in my mid 20s is so so strange. I swear 22 feels exactly the same as 12. It's just hard to make myself believe that it's already 2005. And that I'll be celebrating my 3rd annual 21st birthday in a couple of months. Where does the time go.


Losure greets every birthday with a big smile and lots of alcohol

Doesn't taste like chicken

One thing that I learned from all of my wonderful psych professors at Union was that a lot of those stupid-looking animals are actually sort of intelligent. Rats, pigeons, babies...they all learn pretty quickly if you shock them.

Which brings me to the fact that I'm blogging right now from my bed. Why? Because I don't learn as well from my mistakes as the rat who gets shocked when it pushes a lever. During senior year at good old Medway High, my favorite class was probably calculus. I couldn't tell you a thing about calculus though...I spent at least 50 percent of the time sitting in the back corner with my desk turned to the side so I could talk to Kristen. It was a great social hour, drawing pictures, figuring out weekend plans, and stuff like that. But inevitably we'd get bored.

One time Kristen bet me 5 dollars to eat her chapstick. I was broke, and I've always thought all those fancy flavors smelled tasty. You'd think it would be a delicious afternoon treat, right?

Not really...they smell good, but they taste like a mouthful of wax. But I was 5 bucks richer.

And that brings me to tonight, when Helen, Kate, and I were sitting around watching another incredible episode of the O.C., finishing off the chocolate dipped strawberries that I made this afternoon. I got antsy, and somehow Kate ended up betting me 5 dollars that I couldn't eat everything on a leftover plate of her's...it had 2 slices of her pizza from dinner that she didn't like, plus the leftovers from the strawberries, with their stems. I had just come back from Anna's Taqueria where I finished off a burrito, and I wasn't feeling quite up to it. But then Helen upped the ante with a free beer, and I was sold. Those strawberry stems are scratchy going down.

And now I lie in bed with an upset stomach, wishing I had bargained for more than 5 bucks and a beer. Or that I learned from my mistakes as well as pigeons.

Sing along if you know this one

I'm watching a special American Idol with my Idol-obsessed roommate, but I'm finally admitting to myself how trashy Fox can be. Yes, yes, I should have realized this long ago, I know. Supposedly they screwed up the phone numbers when they put them up on the screen last night for people to vote, so they're having a special show tonight to replay the performance segments of
last night's show and people can re-vote. My first thought was, "Wow, how exciting!" But then I brushed aside my naivete and realized that this was just a way to boost their ratings. I felt tricked and used. But I hate to admit that it worked for me; I watched the whole show.

I want to be an American Idol.


The great thing about babysitting little people is that you can do the stupidest things and they just think you're hillarious. Henry's just about 8 months old now, which means that I spend a good chunk of the time when he's not sleeping just singing or dancing with him. It's a great outlet for me because I like to blurt out random lines of songs when the mood strikes me. (Although to be fair, I'm not good at paying attention to words, so it's usually something more like "ahhhh the one baaaaah um leeelaa"). But unlike most of my friends, Henry never complains about the fact that I can barely carry a tune. OK I can't carry a tune at all. He bounces along and smiles, rather that bitterly yelling "eat me" like others have said. But last week, I was feeding the drooler, and singing along to the kids' songs cd I had in. All of a sudden I hit a note that was even worse than usual.....and Henry, the power-eater baby, totally stopped eating and made a disgusted face at me. My biggest fan has turned on me.

How is my singing career ever going to get off the ground now?


Be thankful there's no sound with this.


Let's have another karaoke party, real soon.

By the way, does it creep anyone else out the way that the Pope just rolls up to the window to make an appearance, magically getting larger and larger as though unassisted??

HOTT

Helen and I are sort of addicted to Jeopardy. We're sure to tune in at least a few times a week at 7:30 on channel 14. I have a game that I like to play when I watch: When Alex announces the Final Jeopardy category, and then goes into the commercial break, you have to guess what the answer will be. So he might say that the category is Colleges and Universities, and then, before you heard him read the question, you'd guess something like "What is the prestigious Union College." You'd be right if you guessed that I'm never ever right once they give the question and all of the contestants write down their response. BUT....tonight, with my guess of "What is German," I got it right. And that made my day.

That's not my only talent though, folks. I promised you a picture yesterday. I like to think that it demonstrates another one of my talents. On normal days I get up, shower, put some product in my hair, and either let my hair air dry or sometimes I sit for 10 minutes with a hair dryer and diffuser next to my head. This generally produces this:


Curls


But, my hair has an extra cool talent. Get the kids away from the computer screen, this is scary. With a little bit of prodding, curly hair can become this:



I was born to be an 80s kind of girl

Don't be too jealous.

They're magically delicious!

St. Patrick's Day is such a weird holiday. I was walking around by Downtown Crossing earlier, and you can't help but laugh at all of the serious people walking out of the financial district wearing shamrock ties, or mid 20s guys wearing gigantic Guiness hats, and I'm sure a lot of them aren't even Irish. But then I remembered that I got up this morning and thought--Hey, I'll wear my green shirt today! I'm not even close to being Irish. But that didn't stop my dad from making green pancakes on St. Patrick's day when I was younger. I don't know what it is about today that makes everyone want to celebrate. But I do know that it's an excellent day to go celebrate in a bar. I hope they have green beer.


Pete wore a Guiness pin last year for 3/17

I've been really really bad about blogging lately. It's definitely not because I haven't had the time. I'm on spring break right now, and on top of that, my little Beacon Hill baby is away on vacation, eating some sand in the caribbean. My time off has been pretty uneventful besides a couple of dinners out at night and some skiing. I'd rather be on a beach somewhere. With vanilla ice cream, in a cone, with jimmies.

Anyway, after 4 or 5 drafts of blog posts that even I didn't want to read, I decided I'd just write a list, because I'm a big fan of lists. Only this list won't demonstrate my ocd tendency to list everything I need to do that day, right down to showering and ironing pants. Shut up Kate.

No, this is a more random list, without any specific point. Just stuff I'd like to share that I've thought about or has happened to me during this lazy, lazy week.

1) Yesterday on the T, a guy with long orange hair and blue fingernails took my picture. When I looked up to figure out what he was doing, he just started whistling, which he did for 3 more T stops, before he started doing some fishing motion with his arms and hands.
2) Even though I'm almost 23, it still feels nice to have a 2nd grader tell me I'm cool. Especially since he's one of those badass rebel kids that doesn't like school.
3) Electric guitar and ukelele do not mix to my liking, even though my neighbors think it's a fun combination.
4) It's fun to veer towards the bumps on skis, but you have to remember not to aim for them when you're driving home later.
5) And on that note, my driving has definitely gotten a little rusty since I can't have my car in the city so I haven't done any substantial driving in almost 5 months. If I offer to drive your car somewhere, you might want to remember to decline.
6) Scott Peterson is easily the most attractive man on death row. Ever.
7) I still don't understand what the lyrics to "Run," by Snow Patrol, mean. Who's running, and why?
8) I can't figure out the perfect balance of water to drink before bed. If I don't drink much in the couple of hours before bed, I wake up feeling like my tongue might dry out and fall off. But if I drink too much, then I can't sleep in the morning because I have to go to the bathroom.
9) Curt Schilling is a smart guy. Even though he's an outspoken Bush supporter, he's got a lot of intelligent things to say in his argument against steroid use. Maybe Johnny Damon should let Schilling speak for him at press conferences.

I wanted to have a number 10 in the list, but you're stuck with the odd number 9 because I can't come up with a tenth thing that I've thought about in the past week, which is sort of embarassing. You can add your own number 10 to the list.

Tomorrow I'm going to show you a really cool, gravity-defying picture, circa 1999.

Ena Bira, Parakalo

Remember when you were little and you had a cool play house, that was your very own space to do whatever you wanted? With windows to look out from? With painted on curtains and stuff like that? Yeah I didn't have one. I didn't have a Skip-It either, until my brother made me one out of wood, but that's another story. Anyway, a comment on Kate's blog reminded me about the time when I finally got my very own play house. When I was in Greece (with no TV or internet in my apartment for 4 months I might add) my roommates and I found a gigantic box lying next to the orange trees on the street outside of my apartment. We brought it inside, and decided it made the perfect play house. Because it was the last week of the semester, when I was almost actually interested in ancient architecture stuff (fluted corinthian columns, hooray!), I helped come up with the dorky classics motif for the house. It became known as the Kleomenathon, modeled after the Parthenon, and given the name because we lived on a street called Klemenous.

Side view


Please note the stunning similarities to the real Parthenon, right down to the frieze and pediment
Those were some good times.

Soon I get to have my very own blackboard!

In case I wasn't already self-conscious about my last name, I'm going into a profession where I will be constantly reminded just how awful it is. No, my middle name is not "is," and no, you cannot call me Stacy Disgusting just because it means the same.

Today was the first full day of my pre-student teaching, and it was the first time that I wasn't going in under the title of a volunteer (even though I'm not paid obviously for any student teaching), so I was nervous about the fact that I'd be "Ms. Gross" for the first time. I found out today though that the school I'm at has a lot of interns, and many go by their first name, so I chose to have the class call me Stacy. Which is good, because I'm pretty sure I won't respond when a 7 year old is calling out Ms. Gross to tell me that Larry won't stop eating his boogers.

Anyway, many of my friends haven't matured past 9 year old mentalities, which was apparent when I came home to several messages left for me online:
1) ewww u r miss gross
2) you know the kids are going to have a field day with your last name
3) you dont have to pretend.. you are gross
4) and you are ms gross stop this pretending bullshit

Seeking

I had class cancelled for snow & ice tonight, so as I sat on the couch for the 2nd consecutive hour with my geriatric roommate, I was inspired my Molly's comment from yesterday's post, and checked out Craig's List again to see what else they offer.

It's incredible.

They have sections for "platonic" relationships, casual encounters, and then regular old personals.

My favorite characteristic requested by a guy:Not interested in any girls in the 300-600lb range...

My favorite title of a post goes to:
My dog won’t stop humping things

My favorite fantasy scenario that made me want dessert:
let me feed you girl scout cookies in bed. i got thin mints and peanut butter sandwich cookies; shortbread as well. partially hydrogenated oil -- mmmm! crumbs in the sheets! got milk?

And others that I couldn't fit into neat categories:
It's my birthday and I want to get with a girl who has a kid. It was my roommate's suggestion and he's absolutely right. Let's get in touch.

looking for cyber fun with soccermom or milfs.i am a good looking 26 male who finds it erotic to chat with moms.

I am looking for warmth and affection and sexual pleasantries with a larger voluptuous Earthmother type lady on an ONGOING basis. I hate to do this, but I consider 200lbs with 44DD too small for me....

What do you bring to the table?

I'm easily distracted, especially when I'm working on a paper that's due in just over an hour. There's only so many times I can check CNN.com and my other usuals that I look at when I'm bored, so for a change I decided to see what was going on at CraigsList. I've only ever used to when we were searching for an apartment (until we enlisted the help of our good friends over at 'Perts) but it turns out that Craig's List has a lot to offer. It has this neat section called barter, which isn't quite like the bartering that the Pilgrim's did, if that's what you were thinking too.

Massage from 29yo athletic guy/strong hands for???
Looking to exchange my massage talents (have few years experience with Swedish, Deep Tissue) for other skills or things. This is NOT a monetary exchage!!!
If interested in exchanging, send me an email.
Thanks

48 Y/O woman non-smoker, non-drinker, no children, 1 cat, is in desperate need of a place to live. I have my own car. I'm starting my own business and seeking a regular job too but for right now I am out of money. My BF of two years is throwing me out on the street soon and I have no one who cares or that can help.
I'm out of options.
If you have a private place and need a housewife with all the perks but don't want a relationship please write me.
I can cook, clean, laundry, whatever, untill I can afford to pay you rent.