YSaC, Vol. 1789: Bad Title! No Title Biscuit!
We haven’t done a “Bad Titles” medley for a while. Here’s some winners that don’t really gain anything by including the rest of the ad:
message chair
I think I’ll Skype the credenza instead.
Mental Filing Cabinet
Sadly, I can’t figure out if “car keys location” is filed under “c” for “car” or “k” for “keys” or “l” for “location” or “w” for “where are my keys” or…
Ass Moldings
That’s probably what happens if you sit in the message chair for too long.
Insulted Pipings
Not galvanized? Well I never!
Varity wood mirrow and jew
Even WITH the rest of the ad, I still can’t figure out what the “jew” part means. Maybe Sparky is mispronouncing “you?”
Hole grage full of assorted tools
As far as I can tell “grage” is not a word in ANY language, not just English.
SLAY BED FRAME/BEST OFFER
DIE BED FRAME DIE!
Antique dresser buff-aye
However, the merely vintage nightstand votes nay, and the barely retro coffee table abstains.
free crip infant for kids
Boy, this gang violence is just starting earlier and earlier, isn’t it?
Thanks for the posts, Mackenzie, Christine, sd, Ralph, robot@craigslist, Eleanor, and Jason!
I think that’s “mental” in the British sense. The filing cabinet slew the bed frame over an imagined insult to the pipings.
The chair’s message being to watch out for the killing bed which is is a state of flux due to the 9ele)mental filing cabinet (barium, obviously).
Which probably explains the fungiform posterior infections.
Which made for the under-salubrious skieling by the person with the bagpipes.
Which could not be seen in the reflection of the wooden mirrow.
Which would be what the cat said about a gunge for a void, whether within or without of a motorpool.
Thus the tools of a sort attempting to resolve the equation frame ÷ best.
Which might explain why anyone might use clothes storage as a food service furnishing.
Shouldn’t that read “Bad Tittles” medley?….SpillChick is for stupid people.
#5 is probably something like this.
There is a store in my town that advertises that they will by your old unwanted jewry.
I tried to pawn my menorah, they didn’t seem to get the joke.
“Pipe me aboard, sailor.”
“Yes, Cap’n.” Plays “Do You Think I’m Sexy.” on a penny whistle.
“I’ve never been so insulted — wait, there was that one time in Singapore. Dismissed!”
Actually, I could use a new mental filing cabinet. The old one is full of jingles from television commercials for products that haven’t existed in years, phone numbers for places I don’t live anymore, and names of my elementary school classmates.
I hear that. I can’t remember important things but the 1980s Tootsie Roll ads and the theme song for The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air are permanently etched into my brain.
Phoebe hasn’t been able to get a good gig since the ‘Friends’ finale.
Even the royalties ‘Smelly Cat’ can’t sustain her, so she’s selling her services as a dresser.
But only if you’re old…like, really, really old.
Sigh…and if the freaky puppy were here, there’d be a Winston and Pickles Adventures in Furniture saga written right now.
A think a “message chair” would be handy in the office. All the messages people leave on my desk that I’d like to say “kiss my a**” to could literally be kissing my a**. SHUT UP SPARKY AND TAKE MY MONEY!
I prefer a chair who knows how to compromise. A message chair never gets anything done besides 50 useless votes to repeal Obamacare.
And add this item to the collection.
And this one.
What a strange fanfiction pairing
Buff-aye the bed frame slayer
Aye, I’d watch it. I mean if she’s really in the buff.
Of course if she’s an antique, it might take her awhile to get dressed.
Tucked away in my mental filing cabinet are memories of:
– all those messages on sticky notes all over my message chair;
– the moldings of my ex-husband’s ass (bad birthday gift idea on his part);
– the pipings off all those percale sheets which were so insulted by their less than perfect thread counts;
– Shylock’e reflection in that wood mirrow (highly polished to even provide a reflection) (oh wait, that wasn’t a mirrow but a minnow??!!
– all those tools dropped in a hole in my ex’s grage (in his case a grage was a shed in the back garden);
– one slain bedframe;
– one antique dresser – aye it was naked;
– that free disabled infant we gave our kids (another bad birthday gift idea).
My mental filing cabinet is truly full of disturbing memories.
Con-grage-ulations on this post! that’s a bad joke… I’ll see myself (or my self) out.
Maybe you should sit down in this chair. I’ve got something to tell you.
*squish*
First of all, you just sat in some plaster of Paris and now I’m going to have a molding of your ass.
Thank you.
Next!
Do you like listening to my pipings?
It sucks! I mean blows! You should shove that instrument of yours into that hole grage with the rest of those tools you don’t know how to use.
*sob* At least you could have let me down easy in that chair!
Just file this away in the back of your mental filing cabinet
Message chairs are for people who like to get their messages in the privacy of their own home rather than going to a message parlor and getting their messages from a stranger.
Stupid pipe! Can’t smoke anything with it. All it does is blow [censored] bubbles!
Pretty sure the “Antique dresser buff-aye” was a result of Sparky McRichypants III dictating his Craigslist ad to his girl Friday whilst bellowing at his tween daughter about her cotillion outfit.
I bet they finally got rid of that hole grage full of tools at a “Hugh Grage Sell.”