Thursday, September 09, 2004
Emails, Part 1
I love your emails. I really do. They're pretty much the only thing that keeps me going, as I have no constructive habits, no cool friends, and certainly no girlfriend. I have your emails, and maybe an occasional woman I can stare at on the subway. Oh, and drugs. I have those too.
The other day I was feeling down and was about to take out a full bottle of Vicodin to end it all, but then I thought, "No, I can't leave my readers like this. Since I get death threats when I only post once a day or post something crappy, if I killed myself and never posted again they would probably exhume my corpse, stick it in a chair, parade it around the city as people threw mozzarella sticks at it. Then they’d sit it on the top of a hill, where men of all ages would line up to piss on it, while all my ex-girlfriends would be getting railed by eight dudes at once while everyone cheered them on.”
Still, I took the Vicodin. Turns out my roommate Brian had taken the pills and sold them on the black market, replacing them with jelly beans. So that’s why I’m here today.
Anyway, onto the emails. This first email comes from Keith Owen from Wallingford, CT:
[Your site] is some of the most time consuming enjoyable drivel I have ever read. When I get fired within the next couple of weeks, I will have you to thank, as I sit here with Pepsi flying out of my nose every so often while I read your site.I would gladly lead us into battle, but will do so on one condition only: we have some sort of happy hour afterward. Or at least a drink special. And, as leader, it'd be nice if I could drink for free.
We are a generation of office workers who would rather surf for porn and then write about it than actually work...and I think with your quasi-celebrity status, you are just the man to lead us into battle. I'm not really sure who the battle would be against, and we would most assuredly lose because of our indifference and laziness toward anything and everything...I'm not sure where I'm going with this anymore.
Anyways, good shit...keep it up...I hate my job anyways.
(By the way, that friend that told me about your site, she has nice voluptuous boobs, I would know, I dated her for 4 years. I can hook that up. Bear in mind, if we ever became friends, I would win every argument)
And as far as your friend, my email address is in the box on the upper right. And since I don't have much interest in losing every argument you and I have for the rest of our lives, this will be my last piece of correspondence to you. Thank you.
Next, Pepe from New Haven, CT chimes in about my post of Tuesday:
Doesn't this contradict your theory about how the worse you treat a woman, the more they will like you? It seems that this dude just secured himself all the sex he could ever want for all eternity. And that's more than you can say. Not a bad move if you ask me. Now excuse me, I'm going to go to the gym and shoot that chick who likes to stretch a lot...Um, ok, you got me. I should point out that when I made that post on Tuesday, I had smoked a joint before work, and I obviously can’t be held responsible for anything I do high. But good observations – now if only the rest of you were as smart as Pepe.
Some of you send me some pretty funny stuff, but recently I got something that really made me laugh out loud. A Woman Who Prefers To Remain Anonymous from Arlington, VA (you’ll probably figure out why in a second) writes:
My mother works in a dentist's office and is constantly trying to hook me up with patients. She even told me about a really cute guy who saw my picture and thinks I am very pretty, but he has AIDS. I don't if it's worse that your parents think you are gay or that mine would rather see me dead in a few years, rather than being alone.Wow. I mean, just when I thought I couldn’t take my mom asking me if I’ve met someone anymore, WWPTRA goes and blows me out of the water. All I can say is good luck, and godspeed.
Maybe we should start dating? You know, to kill to birds with one stone?
[Part 2 to come shortly]