The Ballad of the Ball-Stink Couches.

Me and A's wedding anniversary is coming up in just three short weeks, and to celebrate one year of marital mostly-bliss, we celebrated with early presents. I heartily gave A permission to get his Playstation 3 he's been whiiiiiiiiining about for over a year now, especially now that he got the 42" plasma screen TV for his birthday, because the graphics will, as I've been told many times now, "blow your fucking mind". (Anyone familiar with the "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie" story?)

And in return for tolerating him throwing his socks directly in front of the hamper, using my towel to wipe his face with after washing it at night, burping, making that goddamn drip sound with his mouth, and breaking into random old school rap lyrics... *inhale* for a year, A gave me full creative control of selecting new couches for the living room.

HUZZAH!!!

No. You don't understand. I HATE the current couches. They were here long before me, and even then, A got them for free. They stink like balls and stale beer, having survived his bachelor days. There's a board that makes laying on your back under limited stress extremely uncomfortable and bruises your back... (I mean, no, we didn't have sex on the couch!) They're ugly. They don't match my vision of the living room decor. I hate them. So when A told me to "pick a couch, any couch, here's the credit card" -- I made a high-pitched "SQUEEEEEE!" sound and did my happy dance with probably a little too much enthusiasm.

We're picking them up on Sunday. Which gives me two days to get rid of the current couches. And since city ordinance pretty much bars me from SETTING THE MOTHERFUCKERS ON FIRE, I did the next closest thing -- I put them on Craigslist.

Holy shitballs, people. I thought being a waitress led me to lose all faith in humanity, but no, there is Craigslist to set my bar even lower. I advertised the couch and love seat together for $60 and suddenly all sorts of freaks came out of the woodwork. Such gems I've received in my inbox have included:

"HI I WANT COACH N LOVESEAT WILL PAY 50 NO MORE TELL ME ADRESS WILL COME PICKUP."

(Punctuation. You haz none. We won't even touch on the absolute lack of manners. This guy's missing a period more than I was last June.)

"Wat time can I come look/pick it up?"

(That's it. That was the entire email message. The end. One sentence. Vagueness is not your friend! NEXT!)

One person emailed and asked for more detailed pictures, to which I happily obliged. I received this email in response to the pictures:

"Eew never mind."

FUCKING HELL, PEOPLE! It's a couch, and a love seat, both still in decent condition, solid construction, FOR SIXTY DOLLARS!!! You're not going to get luxury here. It is what it is. Beggars can't be choosers -- YOU emailed me asking about the cheapo couches! Fucking whore!

"Very Interested and could pick up on Sunday
would be 1 to 2 pm
would need address."

Would need to use subject verb agreement. Or any subject, really.

A has told me I'm being a judgmental asshole, and ya know, maybe I am. I mean really, what's my level of interaction with these people? They come look at the couch, nod and hand me $60, I count the money, and watch them load the couches and drive away and do a happy dance that they're gone. FINALLY GONE!!! HEEEE!!! So what does it matter that they are barely literate, or have no idea how to interact with people, even in a forum as unstructured as email? Am I an asshole? Probably. But we all already knew that.

In the meantime, I will sit with my feelings of empowerment as I decide just who is worthy of the Ball-Stink Couches.