Craigslist is seriously working for me these days. I have five people showing up to the house today, four of which will probably arrive at the same time, causing a madcap round-the-house dash reminiscent of something seen on I Love Lucy.

I don’t care how it gets done, just as long as the shit gets GONE.

In other news, the dating site is still a little corner of the ‘net that continues to mystify and horrify amaze me on a daily basis.

For your perusal I offer up a few of the latest missives sent to me by a few of the dating site’s finest. These are unadulterated e-mails, mind you.

I think UR cute, we shold [sic] go out. (I love a man that can spell. And succinct, to boot!)

I wrote to you b/c you are tall. I am also very tall. I don’t know if we have anything in common but I thought it was worth a shot. (I have to confess that this made me spew Diet Coke all over my laptop, causing me much consternation. Bad, bad Dating Site Guy.)

I see in your profile that you like the Butthole Surfers. I love the Surfers!!

This last one requires a little more explanation.

In my profile, I have the following paragraph:

I love music. Some of my favorites are: Blues. Punk rock. The Rolling Stones, Tom Waits, Justin Timberlake(what?), Ani Difranco, Tina Turner, The Pixies, A Tribe Called Quest, Depeche Mode, Jeff Buckley, David Bowie, Tegan and Sara, Duran Duran, The Cure, Pulp, Local H, Fall Out Boy (yeah, I said it), Ministry, U2, Weezer, Modest Mouse, Mojo Nixon, Iggy Pop, Rufus Wainwright, The White Stripes, Hello Saferide, Stars, Coldplay, Nick Cave, Rilo Kiley, Robert Johnson, De La Soul, Marvin Gaye, Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters, Etta James, Aretha Franklin, Amy Winehouse, Barenaked Ladies, The Presidents of the United States of America, The Decemberists, Andrew Bird, The Mars Volta, The Violent Femmes, Sleater Kinney, The White Stripes, Nine Inch Nails, Placebo, PRINCE, VNV Nation, Ice Cube, Santana, funky bhangra music, White Zombie, KMFDM, Hot Hot Heat, The Psychedelic Furs, Skinny Puppy, The Ramones, Elvis Costello, Talking Heads, Bishop Allen, Siouxsie and the Banshees, oh all those eighties bands, you know the deal, the Butthole Surfers, who can forget them, The Dead Kennedys, The Black Eyed Peas, some new rappers in small doses, some old rappers in large doses, The Temptations, Luther Mothereffing Vandross, Lyle Lovett, Bauhaus, the Misfits, Stiff Little Fingers, Iron and Wine, Black Flag, Sufjan Stevens, Death Cab For Cutie, Digital Underground, Stevie Wonder, and that one song by the Backstreet Boys where they’re all “I Waaant It Thaaat Way, ” because god DAMN, that’s a good freaking song. And Tom Waits again. I think that’s enough for now.

Now, I really just threw the Butthole Surfers in there for the name, because I thought it sounded funny. I am slightly familiar with the band, but I don’t know very many of their songs and I probably couldn’t name one of their albums.

Butthole Surfers guy, however, is a BIG fan. I’d say he’s e-mailed me about ten times and has mentioned ‘the Surfers’ in every single e-mail.

I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m not really a rabid fan.

He seems like a nice enough guy. History major, sheet metal worker (that’s this region for you), fairly well-spoken.

I just feel like a bit of a liar every time he mentions his favorite band.

Hee.

I did have one guy request a phone call, and I’ll be honest about the fact that I didn’t call him for a really, really stupid reason.

He has a large German Shepherd.

Now, you know my deal with the canine population. They’re fine as long as they’re not breathing anywhere within ten square yards of me.

However, this particular dude must have mentioned his dog in his profile no less than ten times, so I get that the dog is very, very important to him. And I also get that I would have been terrified to ever have entered his abode.

I know I’m being stupid. And I know a lot of people have felt the same way about my cats. I grok this, I do. BUT STILL. No slobbering, ginormous crotch-sniffer is EVER going to be a part of my life, so why even start something I know I’m never going to finish? That’s just me. Your mileage may vary.

It seems to be a tall order to find someone smart, well-read, well-spoken, at least moderately attractive, funny, light-hearted, and above all, nice. And dog-free. Am I being too picky? Perhaps, but I feel like I have a lot to be picky for. I have a son to think about. I’m a good person who doesn’t screw around or treat a man badly. I feel that I give relationships or dates the old college try and expect nothing less in return.

It’s discouraging to read some of these e-mails, but I keep plugging away, wondering whether that Mr. Right will ever pop up on the screen.

Maybe I should just get out more.

Happy Thursday.

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