Thursday, October 2, 2008
Because only getting coupons from the oil change place is starting to make me feel pathetic...
Have I mentioned my super-hot mailman? He seems to be on a rotating shift, so he's only dropping mail in my box (that's what she said!) every once in a while, but holy balls that dude is easy on the eyes.
I have decided that increasing my mail input/output is the only way to insure that he will continue to make special deliveries to my mail-hole, so I am once again opening up the can of worms that is the "Whiskeymarie mail project".
I started this a while back, and it has been really nice sending mail/postcards/etc... via snail mail to some of y'all. Though I have slacked off a bit these last few months, I have the bug again and would like to get back in the habit.
So, here's how it works: You send me your address and I sell it to the CIA. Just kidding- I don't deal with them anymore after the whole incident when I "accidentally" ended up in Guam with no clothes and my passport missing. Good one, guys.
No, silly- if you want to participate, e-mail me your address and you will receive real, actual, paper mail with human writing on it. I can't guarantee what you'll get or how often, but you will get something at random intervals, whenever the mood strikes me. Sometimes stickers and gifts are involved. Sometimes. Don't get your hopes up. And yes- smooshed up, half-eaten gummi bears count as "gifts" in my mind.
And no, you really don't need to explain to me in comments why you "can't give your address out, but gosh I'd love to, but you know you all are criminals anyways, but I'd really totally do it if I could, blah blah blah." If you don't want to do it just tell me a joke or something.
Do it or don't. No big deal. I won't think less of you if you don't, because really- I only think about myself anyways.
And those of you who have already signed up- let me know if I need to update your addresses as some of you have moved/gone to jail/gone into hiding. How will I come knocking at your door at 4:00 in the morning if you don't live there anymore? Hmmm?
Mail away, my little seventeenth-century, ruffled shirt-wearing scribes, mail away.
e-mail: candycanewhiskey (at) yahoo (dot com)