My best friend Jenny needs lots of love and affection right now. She’s having a really shitty time of it over in Chiang Mai, and she’s all by her lonesome. Imagine the worst, most down night of your life, where you feel like you’ve effed up your whole life and it will never get better. OK, and now picture yourself all alone in a foreign land.
I answered the call and wrote the following email stream-of-consciousness style. I’m not sure if it’s funny, but it was fun to write.
I hope she smiled for a half a second reading it. She seems like a cool gal.
—
Hi Jennifer,
Look, I don’t like you and you like me, but things were different before you cheated on me. Remember?
Before that fateful night, we used to hang out in those shitty dive bars in Williamsburg, laughing at everything and nothing. Drinking cheap beer and enjoying each other’s company. And then you had to cheat on me. Remember?
We went to that Knicks game. Even though we both couldn’t care less about the Knicks winning or losing, we had fun just being together, so it didn’t matter. And then you had to fucking cheat on me. Remember?
Then I took you to that comedy show with Don Rickles. I don’t like Don Rickles all that much, but I had free tickets. We sat up close, so of course he had to make fun of you. You were beautiful that night, sitting there in the front row, and he went after you mercilessly. You loved it. I loved it. And then you had to go and fucking cheat on me. REMEMBER?
Jennifer: WHY DID YOU HAVE TO FUCK DON RICKLES? Seriously, that’s the guy you picked to cheat on me with? He’s like, what, 80 years old? He’s old and wrinkly! Why would you want to see him naked?! Fucking gross.
You’re gross, Jennifer. You make me sick.
I really miss you,
Lee
(This is what Don looked like after he boned you.)
