Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classics (2000-2011)
| HOME | FICTION | POETRY | SQUID | RANTS | archive | masthead |
Rant #472
(published February 4, 2010)
Craigslist Ad
by Emily Dufton

Bakers Rack - $55
Date: 2010-01-06, 1:08PM EST
Reply to: sale-ppwbn-10000000089@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]

Oh I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, 'This is a great piece. This would work great in my new place.'

You don't have a lot of room, and the old furniture's already been sold. You forgot what the kitchen looked like between the apartment visit and the move. And now you're sitting there, with a lack of counter space, and you're thinking to yourself, 'Well fuck, what am I gonna do?'

The answer is not buying this piece.

I'll repeat that: the answer is not buying this piece.

It's a shitty piece of furniture that I bought cheap, new, from one of those stores where I always tell myself that I won't shop, since they have, you know, bad employment practices and stuff. But I bought it from there anyway, well, online so not really THERE there, like Stein's Oakland but it's a Wal-Mart, but at least I didn't ENTER the place. So I got it and I set it up and What A Piece of Shit. I seriously can't believe China's going to dominate our economy with this stuff. The truth is it doesn't even stand alone by itself. I had to nail the top shelf part into the wall, and I fucked up the drywall in the kitchen and THAT sucks. Whenever I move out, which I hope won't be soon, I'm gonna have to spackle the mother out of that shit.

So anyway, you think, 'Man, this'll be great,' and you're wrong. You're so, so terribly wrong.

What do you think you'll use it for anyway? Storage? Baking? Holding bottles of wine? It's ridiculous, you know, this line of thought. That thing'll get covered in mountains of shit, you'll never be able to find your keys, and it'll be this one giant dunghill of shitbombs before you've had it for a total of two weeks. Good luck getting to that electric bill. You might want to store that in the overstuffed file drawers you got on sale at CB2 since they were, like, super cool last fall.


Seriously, I can't believe you're even taking the time to look at this ad. You don't want this piece, and it's not worth the cash that I will demand, cash and carry, as soon as you arrive (which is kind of an ample sum, I'll admit. I'm looking to recoup some dollars on this expense). You'll come into my newly cleaned apartment, spare now with all the extra space that rack used to take up, and be like, 'Aw gawd, this shit is crazy, I can't believe I'm gonna fuck myself over like this, putting all this new furniture in my shitty little place when I could be all kinds of spic, span and spare like this joint right here, which is really, really, really fucking cool.'

You'll be awed at my apartment when you stop by to pick up this piece of shit. You'll be like, 'Oh man, this is really great. What the fuck was I thinking? Why am I forever wrong?'

Life will be extremely hard for you for, like, two hours after you bring this thing home. You won't even set it up—you'll just sit near it and stare. And not at the rack—you won't even be able to look at the rack. You'll just stare into your own internal nothingness, the void you feel growing inside you now that you know you have utterly, unremarkably, and incorrigibly failed. Some people at least fail at cool things—failing at kite surfing, for example, is more of a notch on the belt than this exercise in inanity. But you? You failed at buying a piece of shit, which means that you actually succeeded in purchasing the piece of shit, making your failure two-fold, manifest, wild: you failed by succeeding in acquisitions, but you failed by acquiring something all wrong.


But, the way I see it, things aren't all that bleak. The good thing is you know your fortune before it has taken place. You already know what's coming, so you can prepare. Try, for example, to not get so down. You fucked up, and now you have this thing, this tangible reminder of your fucking up. The good news is that this piece will be moderately useful for what looks like at least two weeks. Afterwards, however, fate will begin to change. I highly recommend looking elsewhere for help, or posting to this website seeking assistance and aid. You will not be able to reach me, as this email address is fake, and the location from which you pick up the rack will actually magically crumble before your very eyes into fairy dust the minute you step outside on the curb, the rack in pieces held loosely and uncomfortably in your arms. And I will crumble with it, turning into ashen dust, flowing away from you with the next upcoming breeze.

Please email for more photos, or with any questions. Pick up only—no delivery—hopefully by the end of the week.


Emily Dufton is a graduate student at the George Washington University, working on a PhD in American Studies.

Share on Facebook
Tweet about this Piece

see other pieces by this author

Poor Mojo's Tip Jar:

The Next Rant piece (from Issue #473):

Call Me A Romantic
by Kat Nove

The Last few Rant pieces (from Issues #471 thru #467):

Deaf in Venice
by Jimmy Chen

Gracious Remarks by my Cooking Enthusiast Friend Keith Upon His First Attempt to Make Dinner in my NYC Kitchen
by Matthea Marquart

Onyeka Nwelue: A Myth
by Onyenezi Chika Victor

Alien Cave Woman Sex
by Doug Mathewson

Role of The RED GLOW: A Choate Tale
by Kevin Ahearn

Rant Archives

Contact Us

Copyright (c) 2000, 2004, David Erik Nelson, Fritz Swanson, Morgan Johnson

More Copyright Info