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January 31, 2003
Mail Bag
As we end one of the coldest months in recent memory, I thought I’d open up the grab bag of emails and letters that flood me daily. But please, please, no more Fed-Ex underwear, I am having trouble coming up with new excuses for my girlfriend.
Without further adieu,
Hi Ryan,
Love your site. I agree with a lot of what you say, especially in regards to Jennifer Garner. She is without a doubt one of the most beautiful and talented women on the planet. I should know, since I MARRIE HER before anyone else realized she was a goddess. And she’s mine! All mine! You can’t have her! Neener neener! Yo mama’s so fat, she uses the driveway as an ironing board!
Suck it,
Scott Foley
OK, that was just downright rude. Moving on:
Dear Mr. McGee,
Normally we find your website innocuous at best, mildly diverting at worst. But with this entry, you not only went over the line, but you triple-jumped over it. Rabbits being mauled by falling refrigerators? We at PORFFA (Protectors of Rabbits From Flying Appliances) are prepared to march right down to your apartment and tell you right to your face what we think of you. But not Monday, because Marjorie has to pick up Ben from flute practice. And not Friday, because I can’t miss “Touched by an Angel”. And Saturday is our mah johngg day, so that’s out. Know what? We’ll let you know when we’re coming.
Sincerely,
Denice Reynolds, Deputy Undersecretary, PORFFA
I also got several letters from Monty Python fans, who wanted to know if the rabbits could attack the fridge midflight and kill it. *shrug*
My love of loves,
Why won’t you return my calls? Did you get the six dozen roses I had Fed-Exed? They were in their with the underwear. I hope you liked this set; it’s based on the red outfit from “Alias”. I’ve almost completed the wall-length mural that represents my love for you via rainbows, your blog entries rendered in calligraphy, and of course, smashed bunnies. Please oh please right back, if for no other reason to explain the restraining order I received in the mail this morning.
Yours until the legal system deems it necessary,
Moxie
Boy, if I had a dollar for every one of those emails, sheesh.
Hey Ass-Clown,
What was up last night? We were minding our own business, and the ceiling starts to rain bubbles. We almost ended up like that oh-so-hip group of laundry people in the Smirnoff Ice video. You didn’t by any chance put the rinse fluid in the detergent slot on your first attempt at using your dishwasher, did you?
Annoyed,
Your downstairs neighbors
Shhh! No one was supposed to know about that!
Posted by Ryan McGee at January 31, 2003 09:33 AM
Comments
I'd rather have girls dig me, than getting a dollar bill ...
Posted by: Breyten at January 31, 2003 10:25 AM