Wednesday, August 8, 2007
I have a hot mailman and I want to impress him.
Inspired by an old post from Sandy, and also from my constantly friendly doppelganger Constant Winter (who has gone into hiding- I miss her already and hope she lets me know where she is exiled to but that is neither here nor there), I am embarking on a letter writing odyssey.
I want to write letters. I miss good, handwritten mail.
I want to write letters to you.
I will write letters and/or lengthy postcards to whoever wants one. I promise they will have substance beyond "Hey! How are you? I'm good...", and if there are any questions you'd like to ask me, or if there is something in particular you'd like me to write about, well, by golly let me know. I'll oblige wherever possible. I may or may not post some of the letters. We'll see. I'm indecisive like that. Blame it on my vagina, if it makes you happy to do so.
Catch is- you have to send your address via my e-mail in my profile, so I know where the hell to send this.
I promise to not sell your info to the highest bidder (the lowest, on the other hand...).
Your address is safe with me, but hey- it's entirely up to you.
On other notes:
No, I did not go to the block party. Fuck the block party. A couple of reasons why-
#1) Party was not its usual, 1/2 block from my house, potluck, everyone sitting at picnic tables conversing in what can best be described as a civilized manner whilst drinking wine or beers.
It was a huge gathering at the nearby community center with a band and such and such. I'm trying to figure out where the community bonding starts and the drunken brawl ends.
#2) The Mr. has had a particularly ass-raping work schedule this summer, and he did not come home until after 7-ish tonight (after starting at 6:00 a.m.).
Poor boy was tired, dirty and primarily- tired.
I did not want to go to this weirdness alone. No. Never. I'm socially stunted enough as it is.
#3) Instead, I made a goat cheese, roasted pepper and sherry vinaigrette salad, along with smoked sausages and sauerkraut, and we stayed in. Season two of the U.S. "Office", vodka sodas for me (Jameson for him) and...well that's it.
Oh, and I'm not taking the "Caution" tape down from the house or a while.
As it bears repeating: Fuck 'em. When I move away I'll send them all a goodbye card an let them know that the whole "Avian Flu" thingy was a joke.
And I'll make them cookies- just to seal the deal.
(as an aside- I live in a nice, respectable neighborhood with perfectly fine, upstanding citizens. I just ant a new house, that's all.)
And Ms. Christina- later today or early tomorrow I will have it done. Unless, of course, I am abducted my the legendary tribe of monkey Zulu warriors. Then it may be an extra day or so. Bear with me