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Candy, beloved --
I am sorry I have ignored you once again. Tragically, I have been too busy of late to partake of your sparkling wit. But I could not stay away for long; your ball-peen hammer and rivet gun pound out a siren song I am quite unable to resist.
I could not help but think of you as I took my own car to a local shop to have its brakes looked at. And as I watched my little car lifted high so that greasy men could take the wheels off to look at its brakes and give me their bloated estimate, I could only think, "If my darling Candy was here, she could tell me if I really needed to blow $400 dollars to take care of an annoying squeak."
Alas, I have gone into a state of semi-retirement. I still lurk these waters, but participating in the multitude of flamewars (which have grown sadly monotonous of late) has proven to be entirely too distracting. I just can't get any work done when I can fire up the ol' browser and look to see if my latest post has gotten praised or flamed half to death. Besides, despite evidence to the contrary in other forums, casual flamewars really aren't my thing. I tried, and I even enjoyed, but it just wasn't my cup of hemlock.
However, spending my time flirting with a woman who has "Mrs" in her e-mail address in a forum dedicated to discussing a wrenchingly vivid film on capital punishment is a lot more fun. Which may say something profoundly disturbing about my psyche.
Yours forever,
nobody
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