A Letter From Paula - Part I

Thank you for your letter, Paula. I'm no Sam Spade, but it's the middle of May and you fucked nine guys last week. Make an appointment with your physician, get some antibiotics and a lot of rest, and you'll be fine.

And you are?

I'm also glad I remembered your name, Cathy. Sorry I kept calling you whore.

You say tomatoe...

Dear SIR -- Dan Quayle was our greatest vice-president since Elbridge Thomas Gerry, who redrew the boundaries of state legislative districts in Massachusetts. Are you going to tell me that you also have a problem with the namesake of the popular political term “gerrymandering?” I hope my influence spreads just like Dan Quayle – I hope we have a Dan Quayle pandemic. Then everyone will have piercing blue eyes, smooth Mazola skin, and fuck like a rock star.

Not a moment too soon

Speak for yourself, Larry. I pretended to like you because my parents told me we’re all created equally by God. But you and I know the good Lord let the pottery wheel spin a bit too long with you, amigo. A bit too long.

P.S. Great job on your sister, though.

Find your own parchment, Shakespeare

I know you think it makes you adorable to hold onto my yearbook for three class periods and fill it with witticisms, Pam. What it really makes you is the biggest vandal since the Marquis de Sade smeared his bloody shit on Charenton’s walls. You’re not the only girl who wanted my attention, but you are the only one who went F. Scott Fuck-all on my childhood memories. Next time, get a goddamn legal pad. Or better yet, just tell me you want to go out with me so I can tell you I’d rather be crammed into a wombat’s butthole with a fire poker and we can call it a day.

Watch some MTV, you square

I will have fun, Mel – fun dressing like popular recording artists Vinnie Vincent Invasion, Enuff Z Nuff, Bullet Boys, and Stryper. Do you have the nerve to imply that revered Christian glam band Stryper didn’t set multiple color-coordinating trends? I hope Jesus breaks his magic guitar on your knee caps.

And may I borrow some sugar?

Thanks, Samantha. I'm also glad we met, even though it was through a pair of binoculars. They say I became a man the day of my Bar Mitzvah, but it was really the night I peered through my attic window and watched you sing "Poison Arrow" into a celery stick while you danced around your bedroom in a pair of Peter Cottontail jammies. You danced so hard I thought you might go into cardiac arrest and no one would know but me. And then I would have had a real moral dilemma on my hands.