i think i'm in for the long haul, so please bear with me...
Dear, Anna.
Uh. Hi.
Uh.
I'm glad this week's Average Joe didn't have any Metal Gear Solid moments. This episode was for reals. I could feel the tension between evil Monkeyman and well-meaning, but obviously unsettling, Dante. I was kinda sad to see Dante go, but really, it was easy to see he wasn't your type.
But I totally felt the tears. We were all upset, clearly, to see such a valued member of the family left behind and subjected to the extreme makeover (did you know about those?). He knew it was his time. He said, "It's me," and you were all waterworks.
It was harsh, yo. That could have been the booze talking, but after all that had just transpired--dodge ball, the wrestling match, the vicious, figurative slap in the face at the sloppy joe eating contest (I haven't had one of those in years!). Well, it was really too much to take.
Also, though, I have to say. The outfits? The sexy school girl look, the sexy referee look and, most of all, the sexy lunch lady look (I didn't know such a thing existed) were really too much. Let me break it down. Here I am, 28, single, clearly too gushy and emo for my own good, just off work, an empty stomach and my veins coursing with a stiff Bacardi and coke. It's not enough that you're armed with the thousand-watt smile, the sweet and earnest demeanor and the devastating look. It's not enough that you say things like "nice bodies don't mean nice individuals," with such conviction that you might actually mean it. No. Now you're also exhibiting all these qualities in form-fitted fetish-wear. Tell your producers/directors/network people that I said they could go fuck themselves.
And tell them I said, "Thank you."
Yours (call me),
j.
Uh. Hi.
Uh.
I'm glad this week's Average Joe didn't have any Metal Gear Solid moments. This episode was for reals. I could feel the tension between evil Monkeyman and well-meaning, but obviously unsettling, Dante. I was kinda sad to see Dante go, but really, it was easy to see he wasn't your type.
But I totally felt the tears. We were all upset, clearly, to see such a valued member of the family left behind and subjected to the extreme makeover (did you know about those?). He knew it was his time. He said, "It's me," and you were all waterworks.
It was harsh, yo. That could have been the booze talking, but after all that had just transpired--dodge ball, the wrestling match, the vicious, figurative slap in the face at the sloppy joe eating contest (I haven't had one of those in years!). Well, it was really too much to take.
Also, though, I have to say. The outfits? The sexy school girl look, the sexy referee look and, most of all, the sexy lunch lady look (I didn't know such a thing existed) were really too much. Let me break it down. Here I am, 28, single, clearly too gushy and emo for my own good, just off work, an empty stomach and my veins coursing with a stiff Bacardi and coke. It's not enough that you're armed with the thousand-watt smile, the sweet and earnest demeanor and the devastating look. It's not enough that you say things like "nice bodies don't mean nice individuals," with such conviction that you might actually mean it. No. Now you're also exhibiting all these qualities in form-fitted fetish-wear. Tell your producers/directors/network people that I said they could go fuck themselves.
And tell them I said, "Thank you."
Yours (call me),
j.
1 comment:
Ask her to give me Josh. I'm in love. Ok, love-ish.
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