I sadly post my relatively large work desk on Craigslist because my new studio is about the size of an inflatable castle ball pit. To my delight, I immediately receive phone calls from two interested customers. After explaining the desk is approximately large enough to perform dual circumcisions and is in pristine condition, my first customer agrees to swoop on by so I inform the other caller of the pending transaction. But after waiting an hour for a stranger who refuses to return my phone calls, I call back interested customer number two.

“Do you believe in evolution?” she asks me.

“Sure,” I say and hear a concerned sigh.

“Well, did you ever practice any evolutionary science on the desk?” she asks.

“I don’t know, maybe,” I say.

“I cannot consider a desk that has been sullied by impure hands,” she says.

“Oh, then no,” I say.

“Ok, great,” she says with relief. “I’ll swoop on by.”

As I hang up the phone a scruffy bearded stick man lurches through my front door and shiftily greets me in a scratchy voice. Of course – this must be caller one. I offer my hand but instead of shaking it he removes his filthy spectacles, places them on the desk, and begins vigorously scratching his graying beard with both hands while his entire body quivers. Steel wool on sandpaper accompanied by tiny grunts. I take a step backward and glance out the window at the afternoon skyline, considering every strange soul that may be living within it’s confines. The audible scratching ceases and the man clears his throat.

“How many, er, circumcisions could you, er, perform on this desk at once?” he asks. We’ve been over this already.

“Two,” I say. “You can perform two circumcisions at the same time, side by side.” I step over to the desktop and demonstrate, molding two infants out of air, then consecutively picking each one up and snipping the ring of air foreskin around each air penis. The man nods.

“What about, er, vasectomies?” he asks.

“I suppose it depends on the clientele,” I say. “Seeing as how the procedure is most common in grown men and that grown men are usually much larger than infants, a single vasectomy would require the entire desktop.”

He stares at the desk for a long moment before asking me to make him a sandwich. I agree on one condition – that he buys the desk from me. Soon enough I’m in the kitchen spreading mayonnaise on thick slices of sourdough and thinly slicing a fresh tomato while the man, propped against my refrigerator, watches closely. Then I hear a woman calling my name from the living area.

“I’m sorry,” I say after approaching her, mayonnaise knife in hand, “but the first person I contacted actually showed up to claim the desk.” She frowns and glances out the window at the afternoon skyline, considering every stroke of poor timing the confined populous must have experienced today.

“Then why did you have me come over?” she says. “This has been a waste.”

“Nothing is, er, a waste,” the man says, emerging from the kitchen with a sandwich consisting of sourdough bread, mayonnaise, and tomato slices. He stands behind me in the doorway, slowly munching on my uncompleted creation. The woman’s jaw drops.

“This man is buying the desk?” she says. “I bet he doesn’t even have a vehicle to transport it!”

“Hey, do you have a car?” I ask the man. He shakes his head and gently lifts my acoustic guitar-equipped stuffed polar bear off my bookshelf, dropping the sandwich remains on the floor.

“What did I tell you?” the woman says. “Do I get a sandwich now?”

“It depends – are you going to buy this desk?” I ask her as I stare at the man who is now sitting on my unmade bed, staring into the eyes of my stuffed polar bear and scratching his beard.

“Yes – that’s why I came in the first place,” she quips. I turn to face her and see another man – taller and shaved – saunter into my studio.

“Hi, is the desk still for sale?” he asks the room.

“No, I’m about to buy it,” the woman says, violently fishing a wallet out of her purse.

“Wait, who are you?” I ask.

“I’m Tony,” Tony says. “I called over an hour ago but got caught up in a rousing game of Connect Four with a paraplegic child. It’s a long story, really.”

“Wait, then who the hell are you?” I ask the bearded man on my bed, pointing at him with the mayonnaise knife.

“Do you have change for a fifty?” the woman asks.

“Nice polar bear!” Tony says. His eyes light up and he bends over for a closer look. “They say the polar bear evolved from the brown bear – which is my favorite bear – so these hardy troopers are a-ok in my book.” Tony scratches the bear’s head and the bearded man stares at him. The woman’s jaw drops.

“What did you just say?” she says.

“Hardy troopers?” Tony says.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she says. “You made an ‘evolution’ reference.”

“So I did,” Tony says. “Referring to the bears.”

“You’re a heathen, clinging to the empty promises of science. And you’re tainting my desk.”

“Yes – will someone just buy the goddamn desk?” I say.

“Yes – do you have change for a fifty?” the woman says, raising her voice to an intimidating decibel.

“Yes – I am a heathen with logic and factual evidence on my side,” Tony says. “Evolution is a sound biological process that expands our world for the good of mankind.”

“SHUT IT,” the woman snarls, crumpling the fifty in her palm.

“I think considering trilobites in your family tree frightens you,” Tony says. He glances out the window at the afternoon skyline, considering every multi-celled organism that may have swam through the city hundreds of millions of years ago.

“I think God frightens you,” the woman says.

“God, er, frightens me,” the bearded man murmurs.

“Trilobites! Trilobites!”

“THAT’S IT,” the woman says, stuffing the crumpled fifty into her wallet thrusting it into her purse. “This is COMPLETELY ridiculous. You can all take your nonsense and collectively shove it.” With that, she storms out of my studio and I turn to Tony.

“Please buy this desk,” I say. I can tell he’s not interested as he performs a brief inspection.

“How many circumcisions did you think this could accommodate?” he asks. We’ve been over this already.

“Two,” I say, ready to perform phantom circumcisions at any second. He scratches his head.

“Well, the desktop looked a lot larger in the photographs,” he says. “I was banking on four simultaneously, accounting for the photographs and your lack of circumcision knowledge. Obviously I’m wrong.” He turns to the bear, which has been discarded to the floor next to the sandwich. “Is your bear for sale by chance?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, good day then.” With that, he saunters out of my studio and I turn to the bearded man. He’s laying upright on my bed, propped up against the wall, staring at me. I sigh.

“Look, I have no idea who you are,” I say, “But will you just take this desk?” The man coughs loudly.

“I, er, have no use for a, er, desk,” he says. “But listen.” He slowly rises from my bed and approaches me, patting my shoulder on his way out. “You never know when, er, you’ll need a nice flat surface to, er, write about a bum that just peed all over your bed.” With that, he closes the door behind him and I’m left alone to wash my sheets and write the most random story ever.

Your sister is getting married next month? Impress your family by bringing a date to the wedding! No longer will grandpa question your sexuality. Show him who’s the fucking MAN by bringing a certified grade-A piece of ass to the reception. Are the bimbos you normally bang utterly embarrassing with backwards logic and lack of grace? Ditch those bitches! Let your new scholarly date impress everyone within earshot while she spouts a profound analysis of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”. Is your ex-girlfriend going to be in attendance? Oops! Shove your voluptuous slice of heaven in her face and laugh as she runs off in tears.

I know what you’re thinking. “Escort service.” But why play by their shady rules when you can invent your own? Why pay hundreds of dollars when you can bring a willing guest for free?

How is this possible?

THROUGH THE AMAZING POWERS OF CRAIGSLIST!

In case you are unfamiliar, Craigslist is an online service that was created 12 years ago for the sole purpose of finding people to have sex with. Over the years it has blossomed into a thriving community covering a wide spectrum of topics, offering services such as housing rentals, job postings, classifieds, and community forums. Today we’ll be using Craigslist to get your sorry ass a pleasing wedding date.

Step #1: Determine the correct section for your post.

Craigslist can be a daunting place. The layout is bland and harbors hundreds of links cluttering any given page. Luckily for us, the “Personals” section seems like the perfect place to find our amazing female companion. But which “Personals” section should you post under?

Well, that depends on your agenda. Are you seeking a business arrangement? I’d recommend posting in “Strictly Platonic”. Does the prospect of hot fucking after the wedding excite you? Then summon your courage and post in “Casual Encounters”. Want to keep if open-ended? “Men Seeking Women” should work well for you. If you’re thinking about posting in multiple sections, use caution: community members tend to frown upon this practice and your posts may get flagged.

Step #2: Write your ad.

Be completely honest about your intentions and get straight to the point, stating specific guidelines and necessary attributes. The more specific you are, the better your results will be. When imagining your dream date, remember to be as selfless as possible – this is more for your family than yourself.

Explain why you need a date for this wedding and what your future intentions are. My best advice is to leave it open-ended, but stating that you have no time to concentrate on a serious relationship due to your World of Warcraft addiction is fine as well – the prospect of closure may create a less stressful situation. Be aware that this is not the time to seek a WoW-playing vampiress unless your mother has at least two level 70’s.

State specific physical and mental requirements including weight and height ranges, ethnicity, education level, and employment. Some of these metrics may not seem important, but remember – you’re catering to as many family members as you can. In situations where preferences clash, cater to the eldest relative. You want them to die as happily as possible.

Step #3: Post and prune.

You’ll need an efficient way to organize all the ladies once the responses to your post pour in like a torrent of lava. Ignore vague and questionable emails. Print out promising responses and compile a spreadsheet of your contact activity with each. Pretend you’re an employer with a stack of resumes.

Respond to each approved email with a coffee or lunch offer; meeting your potential wedding date will aid in the screening process. Depending on the size of your list, this may get somewhat expensive. If finances are an issue, offer to meet her somewhere else, such as a park or square. A public place will keep things light and provide both parties with some level of anonymity.

After your selection has been made, kindly thank the remaining candidates for their interest and make plans for the wedding. If the date is still a few weeks away, maintain contact with your girl – but not too much contact, unless you two really hit it off (which is doubtful). You don’t want things to fall apart before the date.

So there you have it.

The magical evening is up to you. I’d recommend holding your date’s hand during the reception, being attentive to her needs, and initiating at least one passionate make-out session by the restrooms. Of course, these details must be mutual – most likely worked out ahead of time. This situation could potentially backfire, lowering your family’s opinion of you (if that’s even possible). Nobody wants a rapist for a relative.

Now go knock ‘em dead, kiddo.

Hope this helps.