First, let me apologize to all of you for the extended period of time without a post. Among computer crashes, vacations, High Holidays and cutting the tip of my left thumb off, it’s been a busy, and distracting time. But, with the thumb healing (I hope), and a new Apple MacBook (with Video Chat, if anyone is interested), I am ready to rumble…
Let me publicly thank Jordan Rich of WBZ 1030AM (50,000 Watts of power!!!) for having me on as a guest back in July. Great fun. 3 ½ hours of talk about food-it doesn’t get much better than that. I am currently working on linking an MP3 file of the show and will get it linked as soon as I can. I can think of no better way to kill time than listening to me…and Jordan could be one of the nicest, most gracious hosts on radio. Listen in to him Friday nights, midnight to 5:00 a.m., Saturday nights midnight to 5:00 a.m. and Sunday nights, ten to midnight, on the radio, or streaming live across the internet at www.wbz1030.com.
Second, please indulge me a gratuitous shout-out to Wusthof--their knives are damn sharp! My Dad was right-better to cut yourself with a clean, sharp knife than a dull one. It really doesn’t make me feel any better when people call me “Stubby”, but when it happened, I never felt it. That should be their new slogan: “Wusthof—you’ll never feel it, even when your limb is on the floor.”
Now, without further ado…
Dear Stacy (at least I think that’s your name):
I am writing this letter reflecting on the first moments we spent together yesterday. I walked in behind you, and from that moment, I couldn’t look away. That tattoo on the base of your spine (some people call it a “tramp stamp”) was mesmerizing, as were the ones on your neck, forearms and knuckles. Your melodious voice entranced me.
I didn’t say much, not because I didn’t want to, but because I just couldn’t interrupt you. I was so sorry to hear about cat, and all the gory details about the hairball it choked on. I was disturbed when you talked about how unsympathetic your boss was. I really cannot detail the things you said here, for fear of arrest. Carlin’s seven dirty words have nothing on you! You must be a real firecracker with a few beers in you and I’m glad the little kids sitting at the table nearby have learned what “WTF” and “Mo-Fo” mean. I’m sure their parents are pleased too.
Speaking of your boss, I was intrigued how you think he’s attracted to you. With that spike through your nose, I can see why. The way you explained what you wanted to do with him, especially with the choke ball and blindfold, it scared me…sort of.
Troubling, to say the least, was your story about the pharmacy and how they keep messing up your prescriptions. I hope that this gets rectified and the Tuberculosis clears up soon. Between that and the Chlamydia, I agree that the next prescription of Zithromax might do the trick. Getting rid of the pack of Lucky Strikes in the outer pocket of your purse might help too.
Lastly, while I think it’s a “look”, I’m not sure about the jet-black hair with the pink stripe running from ear to ear. Maybe it goes over well in other places. The story you told about the office and how they call you “the Mo-Fo Skunk” or “Pepe F-ing LePew” was classic, and was enjoyed by all of us.
I’m glad we had that time together but next time you’re in front of me in line at Starbucks, I might just ask you to stop talking on your phone while waiting to order.
A Mo-Fo Starbucks Patron