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Junk mail, I do not believe your promises

October 19th, 2007

You are a big liar, junk mail folder, with your one thousand e-mails in my junk mail trap every day of my life.

I do not believe there are four girls waiting to meet me.

I do not believe you will make my penis stronger. I do not have a penis.

I do not believe that your watches are “all that” or that Viagra is the answer to my problems (see above: no penis), or that you are “freaking cheap,” although I do believe you are a “freak.” I would not do ritalin and drink, although according to you I can and buy some lexapro for good measure and call it a day.

(Customer service girl at Fred Meyer store, after telling an out-of-state caller, No we don’t sell hard liquor here: “He just needs to get himself a hard lemonade and call it a night.”)

I do not want your meds program, your depression seroquel or your protonix side effects. I do not care about Zoloft, synthroid or ativan side effects.

I know the synthroid side effects, having been on it since I was a child of 14. Its side effect is: I’m alive and not going into cardiac arrest.

I do not want 100 milligrams of this or that or something COD or something for free or all the help I need right here right now.

I am tired of telling my children, “Don’t look, junk mail!” even though I have selected text only no pix so I no longer have to see the big dix. My daughter reads now, and my son is learning. I do not want them to meet you.

You go away now, junk mail, before I slap ya.

ps — All the testosterone I need? No thanks. It’s estrogen here and I’ve got plenty.


  1. JCK says

    Very clever!

    October 19th, 2007 | #

  2. nan says

    My dad says, “4 out of five women are unsatisfied with my penis size? Who ARE these women?”

    October 21st, 2007 | #

  3. WackyMommy says

    There should be a law, don’t you think?

    Heh heh heh — your dad is funny.

    October 21st, 2007 | #

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