Are you guys kidding me? Do you really think I know stuff you don't know and therefore you must email me and ask me to tell it to you?
Cause you're totally right. I really do know some stuff you don't and I'm only too happy to throw some at you. I'm an absolute humanitarian is what I am. They should name a wing somewhere after me.
What would you say is the most important thing a woman can do when she's trying to get her boyfriend of five years to pop the question?
Dear Poor, poor, pitiful you,
I almost hate to answer this question because in doing so, I am helping you gain entry into the institution of marriage. I guess as institutions go it's ok, but personally the quiet sobs I hear every night in the hallways and the barbed wire around my yard make it feel stark and cold. But that's just me.
Getting him to ask you to marry him is a simple,three-step plan, Sweetie.
Step one: Cut
Step two: him
Step three: off
End of plan.
I sent you an email a couple weeks ago and said some pretty nice stuff to you about your writing. I've not heard from you and I know you're busy, but I thought I'd hear from you. That's ok if you're busy though, but I wanted you to know I think you're funny.
Dear You're not pathetic at all so don't even think that,
I did get your email and I so appreciate your taking the time to write me, but until this moment, I've been unable to send you an email. Here's what happened...as I remember it.
I was strolling along last week, (I often stroll and on rare occasions, I saunter) minding my own business, when out of nowhere a strong wind came up and nearly knocked me to the ground. It was crazy! My skin started to feel inexplicably hot and although I don't know what happened next, when I came to I was in a Mexican hospital completely paralyzed from the elbows down wearing ear muffs made out of aluminum foil.
Although I repeatedly cried and begged for a computer so that I could email you, the nurses didn't speak a word of English and thought my gestures meant I wanted tacos. (which coincidentally, I totally did.) Thankfully my family had put up wanted posters with my picture all over the country, (maybe you saw my husband on Greta begging for my safe return and offering a reward of $247.34?) They finally located me after a Spanish speaking nun called John Walsh and said she thought she had seen me crying and eating tacos in a tiny hospital in Tijuana...although I don't know how she knew it was me because Mr. Man used my driver's license photo which I so do not look like now. I only just walked in the door mere moments ago and before even hugging my son, I sat down to email you.
That's what happened. Honest. By the way, do you have $247.34 you could loan me? You'd be surprised how relentless a nun can be when you owe her money.
I love you.
Dear Sher Lover,
Awww. You read my love you story. You know I love you, too.
Copyright © 2004-2005, Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Tell me you love me at: HumorWriter@gmail.com
Tell me you hate me at: Yeah. I'm so sure I'm going to make that easy for you.
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