Saturday, February 14, 2004

Time to open the mailbag!

Natalia Lush Antonova says,

Quoting Your Blog:

"...That is, until the landlord comes to repossess your home, because you just got fired from your shitty nine-to-five job because illegal Mexican immigrants are cheaper and can now be legally enslaved, leaving you with nothing to do but smoke pot and watch Wheel of Fortune until you die..."

A a side-note: Before you rot into oblivion, John Ashcroft will get your neighbours to rat you out for the pot, and you will most likely be spending the rest of your days watching Wheel of Fortune next to your butch cell-mate, in between exercise hours and being ritualistically beaten by the guards. That is, if you have a TV at all. After all, it's not like you'll be in a white-collar, minimum security resort for the rich assholes that are currently robbing this country blind with the full support of the current administration.

I do appreciate everything you do, Leticia.


Why, thank you! All that and I kept fucking forgetting to link to her wonderful blog. You. Go. Read. Blog. Now.

Speaking of which, read this blog too, which I also should've linked a long time ago. Mea culpa. Go visit them and ease my guilt.

Here's one from a fine woman who's name I will withhold just in case (she's a fellow blogger), but for brevity I'll call her, er, Carmen:

Hi -
Just thought I'd write on the off chance you wrote back. Yes, you should have sex with Leslie, but make sure it is as sweet as it is hot. I suggest going camping with her as soon as the weather gets nice. Nothing is sexier than naked chicks in nature, and I do speak from experience :-)

If you're ever really, really bored here's my Blog:
I'll link ya if you link me.pretty please?
With whipped cream on top?

Only if the whipped cream turns into a giant whipped-cream monster and devours me whole. Oh, but first, I should grip his fangs like jail bars in hopes of escaping, before his serpentine tongue snaps at my back and I am sent sailing down his throat. Yeah. You got it.

Here's my reply:

Actually, it was on a camping trip that she confirmed her sexual desire for me. I suppose we coulda done it then, but we would have gotten in trouble...

Whoa, actually, what I remember she asked me was, "would you have sex with me right now?" (not _quite_
like that--it was more of a truth-or-dare sort of question--but not far) and I said "no, we would get in trouble." "So if we wouldn't?" "Yes?" "Alright. Same with me."

Ohhh yeah.

(Thanks for the "naked chicks in nature" comment; it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside ^_^)

Now I want a detailed description of Carmen's lesbian encounter, on a postcard. Pretty please? With an elegant dominatrix covered in cherry sauce on top?

Now we move on to a letter from our dear friend Samuel Gee, but I'd rather just refer to him as "a fine gentleman" like I did last time. Everybody, including him, sent me some variation on "get a freaking hotel room" re: Leslie. (This was, of course, before the big letdown.) Here's what I sent him:

That leaves me with a choice. In Poseidontown, a hotel might cost about sixty bucks. Sixty bucks I coulda spent on:

--Three books, so I wouldn't have to keep lounging at the bookstore to read
--Paying my library fines, with enough left over for a used videogame
--A subscription to Xbox Live, with enough left over for the Gamecube/GBA link cable
--Two Game Boy Advance games (I'm thinking Yoshi's Island and Sonic Advance 2)
--Two Xbox controllers, so I'll have all four
--Lots and lots of really good sex.

Decisions, decisions...

To which he replied:

Go for the sex sweetie.

Just imagine her next to you, naked and licking.

Fucking library fines indeed.



Aww, man. I can't bear to read that. I'm gonna have sex someday, right? Peoples?

Well, that's all for now. I gotta go to bed. Good night! Dream of naked women covered in cherry sauce, okay, darlings?
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