Strangers come up and talk to me at all the time which is strange when I've been told on numerous occasions that I constantly look pissed off. Usually it's places I can't escape, such as buses, planes, jail....uhh I mean church. Yeah church. The following is a letter to them all:Dear strangers,
Please come up and talk to me. I want to hear your exciting stories about your cute as hell son or daughter that won a spelling bee in the 2nd grade. Nothing appeals to me more then to listen you brag about your child's recent trophy win while you sport the accompanying photograph. (See I included sport in a comical reference to...aw fuck it never mind).
I love it when you tell me your problems concerning your current love live, or lack thereof. I find it compelling to hear that your boyfriend really wants a anal to mouth fantasy realized. Hell I thought a threesome conversation would be awkward, but dirty oral?
Your stories of how your girlfriend is a dirty tramp are mesmerizing. I'm glad to hear how she downed a bunch of ex tablets and went and starred in a off the cuff amateur porn featuring a minor league hockey player and his coach. The way you describe how they included pickle relish with double penetration is worthy of a Pulitzer. Your thoughts on how you want to "kill that dumb ho" are understandable, if not overly coherent. I usually prefer the method of breaking up, but hey that's just me.
I especially like to hear about your child abuse and/or how your boyfriend is a real 'dirty cocksucker'. Dangling people over a balcony ledge is not how I like to express my love either, but your guy and Michael Jackson just seem to think differently.
Yes all of you, please tell me about how your job sucks.
Thanks to you all for the mental images I produce with your vomit inducing tales of abuse, deep fat fryer recipes, and praise for the latest reality television show. Keep em coming.
Thanks,
Erik
"When you meet a stranger, look at his shoes. Keep your money in your shoes." - Michael Stipe
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