===Best of Craigs List===

===Best of Craigs List===

===Best of Craigs List===

===Best of Craigs List===

So I've been invited to a "friend of a friend's" house for Thanksgiving. And although I'm very grateful (I've met these people 2-3 times), I'm a little apprehensive. They're kind, eloquent, educated, and planning on having a houseful of 12-16 sort-of-strangers at their house for the holiday. Everyone's brining a dish, and a good time will be had by all. The problem? I have a KILLER case of IBS and they only have one bathroom—a split bath at that, with the toilet portion being right next to the dining room (where everyone will be hanging out all night).

Now, it's not bad enough that I have to eat a specialized diet, carry around Kleenex brand "tidy-wipes" for those messy shits I have to take in public restrooms. Now I have to hold in my diarrhea either until I get back home (which will be completely impossible), or risk shitting up a major storm three feet from the dinner table with only a thin wooden door separating my bowels from the bowels of the turkey. The real clincher is since it's a split bath, I can't even run water while my shit sprays out like a fire hose. And if anyone reading this has IBS, they know that my shit will *not* smell pretty. Imagine a dead skunk underneath your house in Phoenix after 3 weeks of decomposition.

Any advice? I can't refuse to eat their food, and I can't run downstairs and take a big shit on the corner of Haight and Ashbury in the middle of a festive dinner (I think that may be illegal anyway, although this is the Haight). Plus, the longer I wait the more my bowels will rumble. After about half an hour it starts to sound like the Loma Prieta earthquake in there.

What do I do?

Yet Another AWESOME Best-Of from the infamous Craigslist!

Here we go!!

Whilst perusing the isles at Walgreens one night, I suddenly flashed back to a memory buried deep in my subconscious that burst fourth through the thin membrane of my memory threshold and erupted into my conscious mind as I was passing the Icy Hot package nestled in the various muscle pain rubs, balms, salves and ointments.

It was a late night alone at my parents' house in the city; the sounds of life were passing me by on the street below. The parents were gone for the weekend and with no brothers and sisters around I had the domicile all to my self. Needless to say for a 16 year old boy this was self reflection time, so I excitedly settled into the couch with a bag of popcorn and no pants. Watching the illegal adult cable channels on the big screen TV is a treat that no teenager should be spared. After a few hours of being bored by the endless flawed attempts by second rate actors at trying to weave a plot around gratuitous hump shots, and one liners:

"You take my breath away…" giggles the leggy silicone blonde,
"Baby, you take my CUM away." groans the waaay too hairy balding fat man,

I decided that a bit of kink would cure the mind numbing insults to intelligence that "Backdoor Brides" and "MUNCH-kins" had inflicted so I decided to go to the bathroom to see what props I could find for the demented drama I was about to produce.

Opening the medicine cabinet revealed a variety of enticements, but the tube of icy hot beckoned me with thoughts of tingling cool and hot sensations on my most sensitive parts. Ooohhh. I squeezed out a pea sized portion of the balm onto my palm, and it tingled politely on my hand, promising more sumptuous sensations later. I rubbed it onto my cock and the sensation was like nothing I have ever felt. It was a glimpse of heaven, if I may be so bold. It was simultaneously hot and cold, my consciousness vacillating between the feeling of being under a blanket on a cold winters night next to a crackling fireplace and being on a tropical beach, margarita in hand with a warm tropical breeze gusting the small beads of sweat off of my naked body. It rocked me back and fourth between these two sensations, slowly, gently, so that the sensation made me throb in ecstasy. My hand was completely still, just holding the product against my penis, in a state of bliss, rocking back and fourth. The tempo of the gentle swaying between worlds of island sum and crackling fires slowly increased, the fire in the hearth making a growl and the island breeze knocking the glass over on its wooden table.

Then the tempo increased again. And again. And again.

Pretty soon the intensity was gaining momentum, and the icy started to feel a little like the inside of a refrigerator (the meatal parts) and the hot began to feel like sitting on the hood of a black car, or lying naked in a driveway in the dead heat of an Arizona summer. Naughty! I expected the intensity of icy to hot, hot to icy to plateau at some point, but it just kept picking up steam, snowballing down the sand dunes of ancient Persia. Pretty soon I started to get nervous, and break into a sweat! Holy shit! This crap is burning!

Hotter and hotter, colder and colder until I could no longer take the pain, my crotch was being seared by red hot branding irons and dunked into liquid nitrogen at a rate unmeasured by scientists. Unable to take the excruciating pain any longer I jumped into the shower and turned the water on full blast. But which faucet to turn, the hot only burned more and the cold only froze! I was in quite a fix!

In a panic I dumped one bottle of jergens body wash, two hotel bottles of shampoo, some baby oil, some vo5 hot oil, 1 econo size bottle of pert plus, and some shaving cream with aloe vera onto my abused boyhood, and somehow this magical con-cock-tion saved the day. The momentum began to slow down, the luke warm water rinsed the foul tincture away from my red man-bits and the drain emptied my tortures away to the nearest wastewater treatment plant where the solution undoubtably turned into some foul pain-spawn of evil burbling proportions that would later wreak havoc on Chinatown, only to be defeated by Godzilla or an oversized Mr.T.

Do not jerk off with icy hot.

Ok, so as I mentioned on my page I was going to talk about this in a blog to fill my spaces. Here is what I have to say, MySpace, I believe is the root of all evil. Ok so maybe thats a bit of an overstatement because sure it cant be the root of ALL evil but it is for a lot of evil. But not only have I made another page, but I am confessing to now be taking part in this evil. Glad I could join you!

So I know without any kinda of reasoning to back up what I believe, I would look very foolish. Which I might look very foolish just for having one. But do me a favor and picture this: 40 year old mental bastard, sitting at home collecting disability because his 29 year old smokin boss took advantage of him causing tremendous mental harm because hes not into that. What he's into is finding his 12 year old sweetheart. The sweet innocent child who evades her parents and wiggles herself into a MySpace profile. Well our 40 year old friend finds her, and she is in love. A cute boy who is 13 wants to meet her at the park... Now the ending you can decide. If it ever got to the point where this 40 year old perv is doing as much as messaging her, his fucking nuts need to be burned and shoved down his own throat.

Ok, so say these mental giants are few and far between, no doubt thats a little scary. MySpace is such an awesome way to really be able to say whatever the fuck you want to whoever the fuck you want. Honestly, get on here and communicate to whoever you want, regardless of who they are. And remember, your saying shit with a computer screen in front of your face, how cool is that? Its like having on a huge MASK and no one knows YOU said it. Why do you think we all love texting so much? Sure calling them would allow you to say what you needed to say in about a fourth of the time. But you kinda lose that mask.

But, I'll close with this. I believe MySpace is the root of a lot of evil. And I now take part in this as well. But, aside of what your intentions here on MySpace are, I'm sure you can agree this place generates A LOT of evil.