Tuesday, May 15, 2012

My First Craigslist Missed Connection

I apologize for my absence as of late and appreciate your patience during my brief hiatus.  I wish I could explain my disappearance on the fact that I took up touring with a jazz band or that I was filming the next season of The Amazing Race, but the reality is I have been busy with other things and chose not to make the time to blog.  Fortunately, life has settled down a bit and I am getting into summer shenanigan mode, meaning your weekly dose of Cari is coming back.

I do have a few stories that I need to catch you up on, but for now I share with you my very first posting in the Missed Connection Section of Craigslist:

"You came at me like a naked flash of white lightning. I was standing on Addison near Clark in front of Wrigley when I shouted out to my friend, "Oh my god!" as we all turned to see you sprinting around homeplate, cupping your gingerbread with one hand and pumping your other arm while running as fast as you could.

You looked pretty cute and I certainly enjoyed the view from behind for the few fleeting moments I saw it as you continued running down the first base line side of Addison.

I'd love to buy you a beer and have you regale me with the story of how you ended up streaking around Wrigley Field on an otherwise idle Thursday night. Or at the least, I would like to know if you completed your bare-assed adventure without getting picked up by the police.


Unfortunately, this story does not have a happy ending. I am sad to report that I never did hear from my Streaker.  And worst, I received  multiple messages that he was picked up on Sheffield and hauled off to the pokey.  And true to Craigslist form, perhaps the worst result of all of this was the outrageous amount of e-mails I received from men that solicited "services of an adult nature," or were colorful in their descriptions of what they'd like to do with me. Some even including some rather personal shots of their gingerbread.

Thanks, but no thanks, Craigslist.  Next time I see a streaker I want meet, I will race down to the precinct with a bathrobe and some bail money.

At least then I will have solicited the shots of the gingerbread.

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