Another (Resentful) Open Letter
Dear Everybody Who Is Going To This:
You make me sick.
Thank you for reminding me that I am an outcast. Like the pioneers of yore, my journey to discover myself has cast me to the far-flung corner of the globe. Like the pioneers of yore, I also use words like far-flung, and sometimes I talk about corn pone and fiddlin' as well.
When I started blogging last year, I fell in with the wrong crowd. I found myself reading and mingling with Famous Authors who chug champagne from the bottle and hit people with hammers, country boys, slutty people, and mysterious hunks. I began to exchange e-mails with friends in Dallas and other weird places.
Why, oh why didn't I make friends in my own backyard? I have had to work tooth and nail to build my Portland Blog Kingdom brick by brick by brick by brick just so I would have someone to talk about blogging with!
Aside from the very sad lonely feeling I am experiencing from knowing I won't be chasing cute NYC bloggers around the bar, I am also concerned about my reputation. The truth is, I got engaged to more than one of these guys and kept the whole affair very secret by chatting about it on the Internet.
Now all of my fiances appear to be gathering in the same room at the same time without me there to defend my honor. This is my worst nightmare come true.
It is painfully obvious to me that the entire evening's conversation, nay, the entire event is merely an excuse to gather and compare notes about yours truly.
by Hot Toddy
Famous Author Rob Byrnes: (Drunkenly) Hey, best friend Michael Vernon, do you think Toddy would date me if I didn't have Bradykins?
Michael Vernon: (Southernly) No, close friend but not exactly best friend Famous Author Rob Byrnes, I think he would be dating me. We would roll down the windows and blast country music and drink watermelon wine together, but not while driving of course.
MAK: (Bovinely) It is a Moo point. He would want to date me.
Mark: (Sweetly) Please stop making cow jokes. You are always promoting your blog even when we should be talking about hot toddy.
Addaboy: (Oozing hot sexuality and making everybody in the bar wish they were his boy toy) I'll bet he's drunk dialed me more than any of you. He wants me to dry hump him.
Then a fight breaks out and everybody dies, which is how I end most of my sketches due to an inability to cleverly conclude a script.
So, everybody who is going to this, I beg you...I implore you to please try to have fun without me. Don't focus entirely on me unless you just can't help yourselves.
I am going to need anti-depressants just to read all of your blogs on Monday. Sorry I can't join you all, but I'll be out here in Oregon fiddlin' and eating corn pone with Heinz Ketchup and thinking of you!