Recently, I've been using the mobile application letgo to sell a few things. For those who don't know, letgo is an item selling app that lets you communicate and exchange belongings for money with interested people. Their slogan is "letgo: For when a yard sale doesn't feel enough like a drug deal." Don't get it confused with my actual drug dealing app called Let'sGo!, which is where you meet someone for drugs, and after a few minutes, a siren alarm goes off and makes everyone leave.

Letgo is pretty good. In a city like New York, people always want old junk or white-elephant-gone-wrong gifts. If you have any of these, I urge you to sell them on the internet to strangers who live near you but not near any public transportation. I like to meet folks at a Dunkin Donuts or a Starbucks because they are everywhere, and because there are witnesses. The other day, I met someone in the Manhattan Mall in front of the Starbucks kiosk. When the barista asked if I wanted anything, I said "You to promise that you're watching me." I didn't have to specify; the barista understood that it was a tall order.

It's kind of like Craigslist but with less cuddling, if that makes any sense. They've now done that annoying thing where it's all linked up with Facebook, and they pester you with your "friends" using it. But I don't need to use letgo to sell things to friends. I need it to sell things to people who just have a name and a zip code. Kisha 11223. And people who want the dumb shit that I have in my apartment that my friends have given me. Don't tell me my friends want something. I'll ask them myself.

I guess what I'm trying to say is sponsor me, letgo, so that when you decide to not sponsor me anymore, I can say "I don't know what happened, they let me go." That'll be good for a few guffaws. Anyway, we'll see if I can sell anything else to random Brooklynites looking for plates and bowls or a loft bed. Because I'm Brooklyn, one man's trash is another man's clutter.