Too good not to post
This is a letter Cat got from a friend of hers when she hadn't returned her calls for a couple of days. It's the one we read on the radio show.
you have disappeared off the face of the earth. this leads me to believe that you do not love me anymore, or that one of the following things have happened:
-- you were abducted by gooey pink skinned aliens with eyes in the back of their heads & plans to enslave the earth. they planted surveillance technology in your brain and you are not returning my phone calls in order to keep me safe from evil alien torture and brainwashing.
-- you tripped and hit your head very hard, & when you awoke you thought you were sally perkins, a housewife from ohio who bakes apple pies and reads danielle steele novels and plays brige. lost and disoriented, you wondered who had shaved your head and caught the first flight back to cleaveland.
-- you joined a cult called cranky lesbians against the heteronormative assimilation. after the initiation, you abandoned all of your early possessions, now dressing yourself in loose unshapely frocks sewn from hemp and burlap. you spend your days sitting in circles with your sisters, eating only vaginally shaped organic fruits while you complain about the evils of the l word and will & grace.
however, should my assumptions be incorrect, you ought to call me and tell when that you actually turned into a pigeon in new york and spent the last weeks pecking at lindsay's window, to no avail, until finally, you found another magic mushroom, which turned you back into the fun-lovin' dyke i so love, and so you started hitchhiking back to california. currently perhaps, you are somewhere in the midwest, batting your eyes and seducing closeted college girls into ignoring their studies and driving you westward.
but when you get home, i do expect a phone call. jerk.
you have disappeared off the face of the earth. this leads me to believe that you do not love me anymore, or that one of the following things have happened:
-- you were abducted by gooey pink skinned aliens with eyes in the back of their heads & plans to enslave the earth. they planted surveillance technology in your brain and you are not returning my phone calls in order to keep me safe from evil alien torture and brainwashing.
-- you tripped and hit your head very hard, & when you awoke you thought you were sally perkins, a housewife from ohio who bakes apple pies and reads danielle steele novels and plays brige. lost and disoriented, you wondered who had shaved your head and caught the first flight back to cleaveland.
-- you joined a cult called cranky lesbians against the heteronormative assimilation. after the initiation, you abandoned all of your early possessions, now dressing yourself in loose unshapely frocks sewn from hemp and burlap. you spend your days sitting in circles with your sisters, eating only vaginally shaped organic fruits while you complain about the evils of the l word and will & grace.
however, should my assumptions be incorrect, you ought to call me and tell when that you actually turned into a pigeon in new york and spent the last weeks pecking at lindsay's window, to no avail, until finally, you found another magic mushroom, which turned you back into the fun-lovin' dyke i so love, and so you started hitchhiking back to california. currently perhaps, you are somewhere in the midwest, batting your eyes and seducing closeted college girls into ignoring their studies and driving you westward.
but when you get home, i do expect a phone call. jerk.