
for those of you that don't know why we all say this in every other post, this the best thread evar, maybe barfie 07' material!!
LOL! Unfortunately, the craigslist "missed connection" post I made has long since expired. Most of the story is more or less the same as my original posting, but the story continued a bit longer to include the discussion on BARF. It expired weeks ago, but I found a copy of it...for completeness' sake of this thread, here is the post exactly as I wrote it (the lines have been artificially formatted, and I would have changed some of the punctuation, but whatever):
You screamed at me, I swooned! - m4wSo
I was running some errands in San Francisco at lunch
today and found myself approaching a red light
northbound on 3rd Street just south of Market, and
heard a fire truck rapidly approaching from behind. I
pulled over to the far right and stopped right at the
corner near the curb and checked my rear view.
Sure enough a fire truck was barreling down on my
position, which in itself was not so bad, but then I
realized that I was at the apex of the truck's turn if
he needed to turn right on to Market. The imaginary
headlines appeared in my mind's eye:"Totally sweet
Ducati Motorcycle DEMOLISHED by San Francisco Fire
Truck. Crews still gathering pieces of the rider for
DNA identification." Woe was me!
But being the quick-thinking Ducati Monster Hooligan I
have become, I saw an easily accessible spot on the
sidewalk directly in front of me. So I gently moved
the bike the 4 feet on to the sidewalk, just off the
curb, to allow the truck more room to turn, if that's
what it had to do. BTW, there was a patrol car looking
right at me when I went on the sidewalk, and I'm
pretty certain the officers knew what I was doing and
why, and had no problem with it.
Luckily the fire truck continued straight, and after
it passed I gently backed off the sidewalk in to 3rd
Street and was preparing to continue on my merry way
when you walked in front of me to block my path, then
screamed "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Mind you, I was not on the sidewalk, so it was a
little confusing at first. I assumed you were
referring to the time I actually was on the sidewalk,
so I calmly looked at you and replied, "I'm sorry, but
I was just getting out of the way of that fire truck",
and nodded in the trucks general direction.
To which you replied, with more screaming urgency,
"Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
So I point down at the ground, indicating how me,
myself, and my bike were in fact quite fully off the
sidewalk, and said, "You realize, I'm not actually ON
the sidewalk, don't you?"
Even louder, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
I asked myself, am I dealing with a rational person
here? But the mischievous monkey in me decided to
explore the limits of your irrationality. I fully
realize that, at that moment, it was an irrational
decision on my part!
So I screamed back at you, "You're a real fucking
bitch, aren't you?"
Louder, but a little hoarse, "Get Off The Fucking
Sidewalk!"
Dumbfounded by the continued suggestion for me to go
where I already was as if I wasn't already there, I
decided to up the ante. "You're a real fucking CRAZY
bitch, aren't you?"
Not so loud, and much hoarser, "Get Off The Fucking
Sidewalk!"
"Don't you have anything better to do than scream at
passing motorcyclists?"
Hoarse, and now really in my face (visor was up), "Get
Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Well, traffic had started to untangle itself from the
cluster fuck caused by the fire truck, so things were
starting to move, and I felt it was time to get out of
there before you kicked my carbon fiber front fender,
which, much in the same way I can tell exactly when my
cat is about to leap in to my lap, I could tell you
were considering doing at that very moment. So I
prepared to pull away, but felt the need to let you
know one more time what I thought of you.
"You are a serious piece of fucked up fucking
bitchiness all rolled in to one, aren't you?"
You paused, then, and I daresay I detected a glimmer
of recognition in your eyes, as if you had only just
then realized you were standing in the middle of a
huge street, blocking traffic, and screaming nonsense.
You looked at me, carefully considering your next
words. Then screamed louder and hoarser and more in my
face than ever, "I hope you..."
But I didn't quite hear your last word very well, as
it was being drowned out by the throaty growl of the
air cooled Italian 2-valve
sultan-of-swinging-buffalo-meat throbbing between my
legs as I rode off.
Yeah, I didn't quite hear it, but I think it was
"Die".
So I continued on to Guitar Center on Van Ness to pick
up my stuff, went back to work, making absolutely
certain that I did not die along the way. Because if
that had happened, man, wouldn't that have been some
embarrassing shit?
Anyhoo, later on I was telling my biker buddies about
this. One of them asked if you were 'hawt', to which I
replied, "She would suffice in, say, an 'I Am Legend'
scenario (i.e., last female around who is not an evil
mutant), but given that the city is full of living,
breathing, human females, many of whom by all accounts
appear to NOT be psychotic, I would not have hit
it...ok, I might hit it if I was really really drunk
and feeling really shitty. And had some Viagra. And
she let me PIITB. Actually, under those circumstances,
I would have DEFINITELY hit it."
Then one of them said, "Dude, didn't you get the memo?
'Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk' is the new hookup
phrase! She tried to hook up with you like 10 times
and you just rode away! Probably broke her little
heart."
That's when I knew I had to post my story under missed
connections! So, if you are reading this, please give
me another chance! I can bring plenty of Schlitz Malt
Liquor, anal toys and lube, and I'm pretty sure I can
get some Viagra off my buddy (thanks a million,
Ernie!!).
If you reply, you can scream at me about the sidewalk
all you want while I PIITB!
Yours truly,
Monster Man.