Last night as M and I were watching a documentary and drinking gingerale (*cough*watching Bachelor Pad and drinking copious amounts of white wine*cough*) we got to reminiscing about some of our email conversations of yore, back when M was still an office schlub like me. I thought I would share some of those highly sophisticated emails with you today. It’s not hump day, but it may as well be.
M: I’m going after work to finish my Christmas shopping/punching people’s kids. I’m getting my dad Cormac McCarthy novels and Bruce Springsteen CD’s and that’s the worst of the mall.
J: Good luck champ. Aim for the kidneys.
J: Sorry to hear work is such a shitstorm. And you, without an umbrella. Hang in there. You shouldn’t have to deal with other people’s messes. That’s more of a job for someone ugly.
M: One hundred sighs. I am going to have so much more of a face for you to touch on the 29th. I put on weight first in my face and arms. I will hang in there! An umbrella doesn’t really go with my quirky dress.
M: Can’t wait for ALL of the people I’ve ever slept with to be in one room.
J: Good morning beautiful! I’m so excited for tonight. I’m getting a massage. Just the THOUGHT of paying a stranger to touch my back was incentive enough to get out of bed this morning. But, apparently, not enough incentive to remember to brush my hair. I dreamed that I was slow dancing on the moon with Rob Lowe and then we ate a bunch of brie and marathoned ‘Out of This World’.
M: Hello Beautiful!! I myself am trying to disguise my bed head as “volume”. So far so good. Soooooooo, you dreamed that you were in Heaven? That sounds JUST like something Rob Lowe would do. So good news; I was not even on the list of super-drunks at the Christmas party! Can you even believe that?? Me neither. I am also in only one photo and that’s a Christmas Miracle.
J: Penelope Cruz is pregnant with my husband’s baby.
M: This day just got real.
J: Ugh. This week could be a bruiser. Sunday could be a good day to sit around in my Mrs. Timberlake underpants watching Gilmore Girls. Which is what I did when I got home last night. I also kind of want to watch: Twister, Independence Day and The Rock. I own them all.
M: My neck already hurts from my future lack of sleep. I’m only keeping it together with a careful system of naps and pseudoephedrine.
M: Weird that Donnie from New Kids on the Block is so “street” but is actually street? Like, My-brother-is-in-prison-for-robbing-a-liquor-store-and-eye-gouging-an-immigrant street. He looks like he got his toys taken away from him. Bad Boys Need Love Too.
J: At one point Mark was the lesser Wahlberg but my how the tables have turned.
(On the subject of the previous night)
J: Ohmygod I practically abortioned myself down those stairs last night. I’m guessing it’s Round 2 tonight? Oh lord. I need to moisturize EVERYWHERE for this. I don’t know why. When (M’s crush at the time) came out last night I could tell you were already plotting how you could get him to forget his hat at your place so you’d have something to cover your morning after hair while you microwave a burrito in your underpants and watch Hot Tub Time Machine.
M: I’ve eaten so many burritos in my underpants…. Seriously, it’s like you’ve watched me every Sunday for the past nine years. Ugh! it is totally Round 2 tonight. I wish I could shower inside out….
J: I’d like to kitchen dance party his pants right off. I bet he’s in someone’s kitchen right now dancing his way into her heart, her pocket book, and her liquor cabinet. I’m having a random craving to hit up a cute bar/restaurant on Harbord tonight. It’s cute there! We cold pretend we’re on a date.
M: I love Harbord – when we were looking for apartments, L and I would walk up and down Harbord wondering what it was like to have a pretty little life. It’s totally cute but I’m broke as shit until tomorrow – I might need that ten dollars for a shot of tequila and a roofie.
J: Oh baby girl. I’ll roofie you for free.