Seth, sweetheart, I'm so glad to see your cherubic face over here now that Bettina has given me the boot.
I'm still perplexed by your impish behavior Sunday night. Every time I turned around you were scurrying past me as fast as your little legs could carry you. Keep that up and you'll be as slender as I am in no time.
Which reminds me ... I finally realized that the guy who insulted me on New Year's Eve could not have been calling me "Fatass." He must have been calling me "Flat-ass!" That makes much more sense. If Huntley's compatriots are going to engage in vindictive name-calling they should at least strive to be accurate.
So tell Mauro that as much as I liked the cuddly yellow sweater I'd rather see him in the toga. Or maybe the fishnet costume with the tiara. And tell him next Thanksgiving the turkey's on me, as long as he promises to come over and stuff it.
Warmly, Your new cry-cry pal, Neil
P.S. Mike, I saw you at the crummy WeHo pizza shop Sunday night. It looked as if you were surrounded by half the gay population of Ho Chi Minh City! Obviously that clown who accused you of trying to be white was way off-base.
Mike! I can't believe you don't know who I am. Every time I see you in WeHo you cover your face in your hands and giggle (OK, maybe it was socaldummy who covered his face, but I'm sure it was you who giggled.)
I'm hurt. I switch my attention from UCLA to USC and within a matter of months you've forgotten me. Although come to think of it, it has been almost a year since I spilled beer on your sweater at that party ...
Don't you remember when we were in line at the pizza joint and I said, "I've got a thing for Chris A. but he doesn't like me" and you replied, "A lot of people don't like you"? That ought to jog your memory.
-N.
P.S. I hope you're drinking lots of milk just like your mother told you to ... if you want a job that brings you lots of money, you have to be taller now!
I'm still perplexed by your impish behavior Sunday night. Every time I turned around you were scurrying past me as fast as your little legs could carry you. Keep that up and you'll be as slender as I am in no time.
Which reminds me ... I finally realized that the guy who insulted me on New Year's Eve could not have been calling me "Fatass." He must have been calling me "Flat-ass!" That makes much more sense. If Huntley's compatriots are going to engage in vindictive name-calling they should at least strive to be accurate.
So tell Mauro that as much as I liked the cuddly yellow sweater I'd rather see him in the toga. Or maybe the fishnet costume with the tiara. And tell him next Thanksgiving the turkey's on me, as long as he promises to come over and stuff it.
Warmly,
Your new cry-cry pal, Neil
P.S. Mike, I saw you at the crummy WeHo pizza shop Sunday night. It looked as if you were surrounded by half the gay population of Ho Chi Minh City! Obviously that clown who accused you of trying to be white was way off-base.
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I'm hurt. I switch my attention from UCLA to USC and within a matter of months you've forgotten me. Although come to think of it, it has been almost a year since I spilled beer on your sweater at that party ...
Don't you remember when we were in line at the pizza joint and I said, "I've got a thing for Chris A. but he doesn't like me" and you replied, "A lot of people don't like you"? That ought to jog your memory.
-N.
P.S. I hope you're drinking lots of milk just like your mother told you to ... if you want a job that brings you lots of money, you have to be taller now!
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