Late
Gentlewomen and Gentlemen of the Vox Chaotica Council! I'm late. A whole day late. But can you blame me? I woke up early yesterday morning and went to go get Krispy Kreme, and I spent the rest of the day imbuing my new tarot card deck with energy and personality. Also, the result of any run to Krispy Kreme ends with me in a euphoric trance. It's like when normal people drink too much and black out. Honestly I could be a world-famous arsonist and have no recollection of it.
Anyway. That's not what I'm here about. [Editor's note: Cutter also wrote the significant majority of a post on Tuesday that should have gone live yesterday, but it sucked so I didn't post it. Sorry not sorry.] What I'm here about is letters.
HAHAHAHAHA SEE I AM HILARIOUS!
[One awkward silence eternity later]
Yeah it was a pretty terrible pun. That's Mum's fault though. So yeah. I meant letters in the sense of written correspondence.
Did any of you have to write thank-you letters after birthday parties, Christmas, Hanukkah, or any of the other 15 billion holidays where gift-giving is expected? I did. It was a pretty awful time as a child, and it hasn't really grown on me—sorry, Mum. But a couple years back I started writing letters to people I thought were cool, and who told me they would like to be pen pals.
Brief tangent. I think pen pals is like the dumbest phrase ever. Someone want to give me a better one? Something more refined? Something befitting a gentleman or gentlewoman who enjoys sending and receiving handwritten messages? That's all on you guys.
Anyway, for one reason or another (one moved, another was killed by Chilean assassins, another lost their writing hand in a tragic rollercoaster accident) the letter chains all died away, and I have not had the pleasure of sending my uninterpretable handwriting to—what was that, Alan? I shouldn't tell them how bad my handwriting is if I want them to write me letters? Does it say "Decision Department" on your semi-existent paycheck—then don't act like you have the authority to make decisions!
Lordy, the nerve of some people. Alan's a nice guy, just a bit too eager, you know?
What am I talking about. I've never had a job, had anything to do with a newspaper-room setting, nor do I have any idea who Alan is. This is not my beautiful house. YOU ARE NOT MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE!
Anyway, before Alan so rudely interrupted me, I was going to say that I would like to start writing letters again, and since the majority of readers for this blog are my friends, I'm extending an invitation to email me with you address so I can start getting this snail mail revolution well underway.
And if you ask nicely, I might even write it on the electric typewriter I found.
tl;dr Cutter makes a bunch of jokes that make no sense, talks about how he wants to write letters to you lovely people, and generally makes fun of imaginary people. All in all a good day.