“Down on His Luck Austin Celebrity” Romeo Rose Will Babysit for $10/Hour
Login / Register
ORNo Account? Register here.
When last we checked in with Austin Internet sensation Romeo Rose, things were good for the lovelorn goofball who liked to dress like the Count of Monte Cristo: He was proudly flaunting his bizarre, horrible criteria for seeking a mate on his website, SleeplessInAustin.com, and offering a $1,500 finder’s fee to anyone who could help him make the match of his dreams.
Sleepless In Austin is down now, and so perhaps is Rose himself: Despite having once possessed $1,500 to entice people to set him up with a lady who was under 130 pounds; who had never dated a black guy (“that is ALMOST the same thing as beastiality”); had no children; and, of course, wasn’t black herself (“I don’t care if she looks like Halle Berry”), these days Rose is using the Internet to advertise something other than his availability as a lover: Namely, he’s taken to Craigslist to sell his guitars and solicit work as—get this—a babysitter.
If you’re comfortable with the idea of leaving your children in the care of a man who only a few short months ago was promoting a website that included statements like, “I prefer a woman that has never had children, because having kids does ruin a womans body often times[sic]. They end up with stretch marks. And also sometimes it makes their vagina looser,” you’re in luck: Rose, whose ad features a headline declaring himself to be a “down on his luck Austin celebrity,” offers his services caring for children and/or dogs at the rate of only $10 an hour. (That doesn’t include kids of the diaper-wearing variety, as he’s not that down on his luck, apparently.)
Of course, many presumably do not consider a mild amount of Internet fame to be the proper criteria by which to vet a sitter. But if those people still want a chance to sniff the Rose in their own homes, they have that opportunity: Rather than merely allowing him to sit on their couches and binge-watch episodes of Storage Wars while enjoying a jar of peanut butter, they might instead buy one of Rose’s prized possessions, his guitar, which he named Juliet.
Rose has written of “Juliet” before, which presumably explains why he thinks the knobbled guitar emblazoned with his own name over the frets is worth $2,500 (“FIRM non-negotiable”). He once again attempts to sell this ad based on his notoriety on the Internet, explaining in the headline that this is a “celebrity owned guitar,” but not, like, one owned by anyone famous for actually doing anything. One supposes that Rose expects whoever purchases the guitar will keep it in a glass case on the wall.
As with most things Romeo Rose-related, it remains unclear whether his attempt to sell a guitar ruined by an intricate amount of customization or his attempt to market himself as perhaps the least trustworthy-looking babysitter in Texas are 100% genuine or perhaps an attempt to attract additional attention. Regardless of the answer to that question, though, we’ve opted to devote more space to the “Austin celebrity.” A rose, without light, withers and dies, after all. And if he really is hard on his luck and this inspires someone to reach out to the absurdly-attired doofus with some opportunities to turn it around? We’ll consider that a good deed—and we won’t even ask a finder’s fee.