Mail Call

Mail Call

All of my friends know I am supremely bad at responding to e-mails. I have every intention of e-mailing them back, but if I can't do it right that moment, eventually the inclination seeps away. So I'll just respond here:

From someone who made a point of saying "Don't quote me": "I know you read that article about the Florida kid who tried to vacation in Iraq by himself and thought 'What a fucking idiot.'"

Actually, this is not true. I thought "What a fucking dildo." No one can defend this guy to me. He's a dildo. A used one. One that was used by someone diseased, who dislikes bathing.

From Kwame: "I'm convinced your people are insane" and a link to a live recreation of the game Punch-Out.

We ARE insane. You should have known already from this.

Also from Kwame, "Women are such haters" and a link to an article about the American Decency Association's problem with the Detroit Pistons' dance team swimsuit calendar.

Not all women. I for one, am all about people taking off their clothes for charity. And I'm assuming, using my astounding business acumen, that calendars with half-naked attractive women sell better than calendars with half-naked unattractive ones.

From Paul, re-scheduling our plans to cause a drunken ruckus in the city this weekend: "I spent last night heaving a foot-long cheesesteak and guacamole into the toilet. I feel like crap."

Which is probably a good thing. The last time we went out together we drank dinner and got plastered. I angered some Mexican guys who were fighting over some girl (liquor = no inner monologue), then Paul drunk stole the cue ball from the bar.

From Nadia: "I got you on my main Myspace page... So now stalkers can find my girlfriends too."

I'm not certain anyone's going to be camped out in my bushes, on the off chance that Nadia has come by for a sporadic visit. You never know though, there are some crazies out there.

From my aunt, a forward of helpful household cleaning tips that included this gem: "Blood stains on clothes? Not to worry. Just pour a little hydrogen peroxide on a cloth and proceed to wipe off every drop of blood. Works every time! Now, where to put the body..."

Another helpful tip, don't use a Fed Ex letter envelope to mail blood. It expressly prohibits it on the envelope.

From Mike J: "I actually said out loud "WOO HOO" when I read the title of an article on oil prices dropping. Being an adult sure sneaks up on ya and comes in unexpected places. I think we need another spitting contest."

Tony kicked our asses so hard I don't ever want to have another spitting contest again. I'm not too shabby but he's got the distance. He can actually hit cars in the street from my front door. Not that he does, but he could.

From my girl C on her first day of work: "Got to work and my boss and I checked all the condos, 40 blocks or so. I didn't wanna walk anymore but I couldn't complain. Lunch time came and he took me to a restaurant to eat. He suggested that I get a salad coz it's the best salad lunch he ever had in his life. So now there's nothing I can do but get it. In my head I'm like salad? WTF?"

I feel this. The only salads I can eat are the ones that inexplicably come with fried pieces of chicken or meat. The same thing happened to me once. A new boss took me out to lunch and told me I should get the salad. So I got the damn salad. After we got back to the office I snuck out and bought a cheeseburger, which I ate standing up by the trash can.

Also from C: "Got to the city at 9:30 so I grabbed breakfast. While eating, I saw this guy drinking a Corona already (see that's an ALKI and I thought I was bad.)

That guy doesn't sound like an alcoholic, he sounds like a college student. Many a morning in college was I kicked awake by someone holding 40s or a six-pack. Or if it was my friend Mike J (Filipino Mike J not white guy Mike J), holding a bottle of Absolut.

From Cara, currently taking courses in South Africa: "A lot of South African cuisine is derived from their Dutch and British colonizers (not exactly known as pillars of culinary wisdom) which means the food must include mayonnaise and be deep fried. Apparently sushi is no exception. Okay, maybe not deep fried but each sushi roll had a generous dollop of mayo. Also, they're somehow able to heat their food to ridiculous temperatures and my soup arrived at the temperature of the sun, rendering it inedible for at least half an hour."

Everything is deep fried and covered with mayo?? I should move to South Africa!! Woot!