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Internet:
I’m sorry I have been neglecting you. The past two weeks have been incredibly busy, what with the new job, JesterCon, rehearsals, and gigs.
Blogging Friends:
I’m sorry that I haven’t commented or likely even read your blog in quite some time. I miss you, and hope to get back on track soon.
Google Feed Reader:
What’s the limit on the number of feeds you will hold onto before you explode and leave my computer gasping for breath in a pile of shattered keys and pieces of lcd sceen? You seem to be doing fine with 1927 unread feeds. Thank you. I hope you won’t be offended when I choose “mark all read.” I’m sure Perez Hilton will survive.
Mimi’s Cafe:
Please remove the salmonella salad from your menu. As much as I enjoyed the flavor and the wonderful mixture of balsamic vinegar, chicken, strawberries, walnuts, cranberries, and blue cheese, the 36 hours following my visit were, shall we say, less than pleasant.
Patrons of Maggie McGeary’s in San Francisco:
You all seemed to have a great time Saturday night when Total Eclipse played. Thank you for not really noticing that I was so sick I could barely stand upright for the whole show. (See the above letter.) I’ve been performing professionally for 17 years, and I have NEVER been on stage as sick as I was this weekend. Please come see us again next month at the bar next door, Grant And Green Saloon. I promise to not be in danger of hurling on stage.
Blog Talk Radio:
Fix my fucking time slot. You are totally screwing everyone who lives on the West Coast from being able to host their show at any reasonable hour that might allow someone on the east coast to participate. And get your fucking panties out of a wad over “adult content.” My show is fairly tame compared to other shows I’ve listened to even during prime time. In fact, I’ve heard a few shows that were downright offensive and racist and or homophobic, but I don’t seem them getting sanctioned. It’s nearly impossible for me to increase the number of my listeners when I have to exclude most of the rest of the country.
Creditors:
Yeah, yeah. I know. Stand in line. I will be getting a regular paycheck now and you’ll all get to bleed me dry soon enough. Until then, only one call per day is necessary, thanks.
Internet Explorer:
Fuck off and die. You make my blog look like shit. You make my life miserable. There are such things known as “standards.” Quit being a desperate 41 year old toothless fat chick with a scat fetish and get some, would you?
Website Clients:
I’ve not forgotten you, I swear. I’ve just been a little busy.
Sincerely,
Jester
