Only days remain to secure a date to the inauguration. Fuck it, hit Craigslist.

* Do you want to see Jay-Z at love tonight? Get ready for some “affection and passion, for the feeling of that first kiss, tingles you feel from a certain touch, soft whispers that excite and move you, and intimate feelings that stir your soul,” because that’s what you might have to endure to win a ticket to the club. “LOOKING FOR A LADY TO ATTEND LOVE NIGHT CLUB AND PARK NIGHT WITH ME THIS WEEKEND TO CELEBRATE THE BRINGING OF OUT NEW PRESIDENT,” writes the poster, who offers up club tickets alongside “discreet affectionate romance, erotic passion, and intense excitement.” The posting is accompanied by an illustration of a single rose dripping in diamonds with a cursive script reading, “Hello.”

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Non-explicit inauguration parade rehearsal photo preferable to Craigslist material

* If you’re interested in attending this all-male inauguration-week orgy (no link due to explicit nature of attached photographs, which I just opened in the coffee shop from which I am writing this post), get ready to play to type. “Orgymaster is seeking Horny Military dudes, Leather Daddies, Hunky Frat stud, Handsome Business Execs, and Humpy Athletic guys,” the poster writes. “In town for business, Inauguration or MAL Leather weekend? Cum, Cum, Cum!!!”

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* This woman not only requires an inauguration date—she requires an inauguration date with “a possibility of a relationship.” If you’re between the ages of 43 and 53, “will watch sports, movies and even read the paper” with her, and are “someone that can eat when they feel like it,” inquire within. Poster also enjoys “gambling.”

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A 28-year-old man who identifies himself as a “conservative and a big fan of one of the greatest Presdident’s ever, George W. Bush,” is looking for a date to commiserate with while the rest of the District celebrates the inauguration of one of our worst Presdident’s ever.

“For those of us who are not celebrating this inauguration, how about you join me in the staffer send-off to President Bush at Andrews Airforce Base,” he writes. “Interested, tell me about yourself, include a picture, and let me know why I should pick you.”

The headline of the personals ad, which has now been deleted by its author, specifies a “petite Asian.” Seeing as the ad was written by a conservative male seeking a woman, I’m betting that that petite Asian is you, not him.

Photo by Muhammad Adnam Asid.

Face it, you’d rather be here anyway.

* Finally! Spring chicken seeks date for inaugural ball. This 21-year-old man (boy, really!) will be in-town for the inauguration, and seeks “a girl around my age to go with.”

* This inauguration ticket-seeker is offering up something a little more interesting than fine conversation and nice legs: Superbowl tickets. If you want to score two tickets to the Superbowl, prepare to cough up “4 seated tickets to the swearing-in ceremony, 8 preferred standing tickets to the swearing in (NW/SW/West/North or South only), 12 bleacher seats to the parade, 4 tickets to any of the PIC Balls held at the DC Convention Center.” And this poster ain’t playin’. “We are not interested in Mall Standing tickets,” he writes.

Read More “Inauguration Date-Roundup: We’re Going to the Superbowl!” »

* Slate’s XX Factor hashes it out over Rick Warren. Sara Mosley hates Warren, but admits that “engagement with the other side” sometimes “makes everyone a little unhappy and uncomfortable.” Noreen Malone thinks Obama’s “selling out.” Hannah Rosin thinks this is all “liberal group think” that amounts to “pretending evangelicals don’t exist”—and calls to let Warren speak for himself.

* In inauguration dating news: This 40-year-old seeks a date for a ball; this out-of-town 26-year-old is looking for a place to stay—not for the inauguration, just any old time.

* Local poet Sandra Beasley wrote this week’s XX Files essay on how to fake it: If “it” means becoming an impromptu motorcycle model for a televised magic show:

The director hadn’t instructed us on attitude, so I kept rotating expressions. Ten seconds smiling. Ten second scowling. Ten seconds of terrified, we’re-crushing-him! face. We kept rolling. Down the ramp. Steve cut the engine.

“That’s it?” I asked.

* The Candy Pitch presents: The Twelve Days of Christmas, burlesque style.

Photo via trialsanderrors.