My Lovely (slightly edited on 3/9/2005)
I kept waiting for it to come. The deluge. I had sent her my phone number, address, IM and email to her; she certainly received them, right? I gave her all my contact information, how to get a hold of me night and day, anytime. I even sent her my itineraries for the vacations I planned (all changed so I could go to L.A.)
Wow, I remember when I first noticed her, I knew she was a talent that could not be held back. It was her first film that caught my eye. The artistry and the daring use of night vision to capture what a standard camera could never capture: Passion. Raw passion. I knew the moment I saw this piece of cinematic mastery, that I had to meet this extraordinary performer. Seeing the emotion, the pure ecstasy on her face in this film, I knew she was “in the moment.” I knew she was acting, yet, I felt that what I was seeing on the screen was real- a sure sign of a great actress. Her performance was even more astonishing when I found out how young she was. I knew I had to find this complex, and yet, so young an actress.
I started the search for more information about her on the web, and to my surprise I was not the only one enamored with this new this fearless and dynamic actress. I was surprised that there were literally hundreds of places on the web with information on this film and its star. Even with the overwhelming number of web pages dedicated to her, I was determined to read them all just to find any nugget about her. I quickly found what I was looking for, her name: Paris. Ahh, surely this was serendipitous. With a name like Paris, I knew she was a world-class women with world class culture and intelligence. Paris’ parents saw I what I see now, a beauty destined for greatness. But I wanted more. Upon further research, I found a news site with a story about how My Lovely Paris was deeply embarrassed by the very film I found to be so amazing in its passion and authenticity. I could not understand why My Lovely Paris would be embarrassed. I wanted to express my feelings of admiration for her and her wonderful talent let her know she had nothing to be embarrassed about. I needed to tell her I watched that same film over and over and over again. The only time I stopped watching was when my boss called enquiring about where I had been for the last week and why I hadn’t been to work. When I explained why I was missing work, he said he understood and that I needn’t come to work until I pulled myself together. I had no idea my boss would be so understanding; he let me have all the time I needed to, as he put it, “figure things out.” Why, he even gave me a phone number of a doctor he told me might be able to help. I never was able to call the doctor, I’ve been so busy trying to get a hold of My Lovely Paris. I just hadn’t had the time what with planning all the trips to L.A.
With renewed vigor knowing my boss was behind me 100%, I continued my search. After several more days, I finally came across a “fan” site for My Lovely Paris. Well, I wouldn’t call it a fan site; it was full of ridicule and hatred for her talent (there seemed to be so many like this; obviously there is a lot of jealousy because of My Lovely Paris’ talent.) But within this hateful site, I found an address I could use to finally contact My Lovely Paris. I quickly sat down to write a letter explaining how she had changed my life, how if we could meet, I would be forever grateful and in her debt.
After completing the letter, I ran down to the local Postal Service Branch to buy stamps and send it off to My Lovely Paris. After posting the letter I felt as light as air, I was dancing down the street with joy. I waited a week for My Lovely Paris to reply to my letter. Nothing came. I waited for another week. And another. And another. And another. Concerned that my letter hadn’t arrived at My Lovely Paris’ address; that The Postal Service had failed in their sacred duty, I marched down to the Postal Service Branch and demanded to know if my letter was delivered to My Lovely Paris! The Postal Service Employee told me that if the letter were addressed correctly, it would have arrived at its destination. She then had the audacity to question whether I had written the proper address on the envelope! “Of course I had written the proper address!” I yelled (pounding the desk repeatedly to show I was serious. I have found pounding on something helps to get one’s point across.) Because I am such an expressive individual, the Postal Service Employee backed up to give me room so I could properly express myself. I find that people will do this often as I walk down the street discussing with myself how my day went. People are nice that way. I like that I am given my space. Out of obvious concern for my plight, the Postal Service Employee asked that I leave and that perhaps I should write the letter again and send through another Postal Service Branch. I knew what she was getting at; she was trying to tell me, without jeopardizing her job, that the particular Postal Service Branch tended to lose mail. I nodded and said, “Yes, yes. Different branch. Send a new letter from a different branch.” I winked at her to let her know that her secret was safe with me – I really felt we bonded at that moment. I really should go back and say “hi” to her some day. I think she would like that. As I left the Postal Service Branch, in my head, I was already composing the new letter.
As I was walking down the street, it struck me, I didn’t want there to be a chance that my next letter to be lost in the mail. I decided what I had to do was to mail multiple copies of the same letter from different Postal Service Branches. When I got home, I found the White Pages to see where all the Postal Service Branches in the city were located. I found that are 37 Postal Service Branches in the city. I quickly composed my letter, tore the pages from my spiral notebook and ran down to the local copy shop. I bought 37 envelopes and made 37 copies of my letter to be sent to My Lovely Paris. It took me all day to mail these; I had t figure out which bus route to take to get to the 37 Postal Service Branches. By the time I was done, I knew I had ensured My Lovely Paris would receive my letters.
Again I waited for My Lovely Paris to reply. I waited and waited. It troubled me that My Lovely Paris hadn’t responded. Surely this wonderful vision of beauty and grace would have written me back! I made sure the letters included everything there is to know about me. How I like to take long walks at night through the neighborhood and look into the houses to see what my neighbors are doing. It really is fascinating how different people are! I told her how when my dog died when I was a kid, my father had good old Scruffy stuffed and mounted over the fireplace so we wold never forget him. There was so much I told her, surely she would want to know more. I gave her a rundown of my daily routine, my itinerary for the trip to L.A. to see her. I told her everything! But she hadn’t written back. I was at a loss. I needed time to think. I thought that maybe I had insulted her. Or someone read the letter and was jealous of our friendship and made sure Paris’ letter back to me never got mailed – those Hollywood types can be that way, you know. I hopde that wasn’t the case. After all, she is My Lovely Paris.
Well, like I do so often when I need to think, I took a long walk. I found myself standing in front of the office building I work in downtown. It was nice to see the place, I hadn’t been there in weeks so I decided to go up and visit my boss on the 4th floor. I decided to go on up and ask why he hadn’t returned my calls (I had been calling him to see if it was okay that I take off more time.) As I entered the building, the security guard stopped me and told me I was not allowed to enter the building. I understood; the building must have been conducting a fire drill. Happens all the time. I told the Security Guard I would wait out front. I waited for hours to see my boss. Finally at 5:10 my boss came out. Seeing me for the first time in weeks, he naturally looked surprised. I explained to him that his voice mail wasn’t working because I had left at least a dozen messages the day before. He agreed that his voice mail must not have been working properly and that he’d check into it. He also said he understood that I was under a lot of stress and that I needn’t come into to work anymore until I find the help I need. It turns out he and the other managers were discussing how best to handle my case. Isn’t it wonderful how concerned they are for me! They even said “case” like some detective show. I felt like I was in an episode of NYPD Blue. I really should send him some jam for showing such concern. I thanked him for his concern and told him I would let him know how my search was going. He said I needn’t worry about keeping him abreast of any details, he wanted to be left out of it. I understood why he said I didn’t need to tell him, he clearly wanted me to spend all my energy trying to contact My Lovely Paris. People are so nice.
As my boss backed through the entrance of office building, I noticed a black limousine slowly pulling up beside me and stop. From the front seat of the limousine, a large and burly man approached me and asked me if I was _______. I said, “Yes, I am my good sir.” He looked to the back of the limo where, through the partly opened window, I heard a woman say, “do it.” As the window rolled up, I could have sworn I saw a Chihwawa in the back seat. Before I blacked out, I remember thinking that My Lovely Paris has a dog just like that.
Oh, it was a couple of days after that when I heard about how My Lovely Paris’ cell phone was “hacked.” That’s when I realized I was going to have to change my phone number, email addresses and IM. After all, My Lovely Paris had all my information; I had sent it to her so many times, surely she kept all my contact information with all her other friends information? After all, I am My Lovely Paris’ most loyal friend. But it had been weeks since this terrible theft took place, and I haven’t been called, IM'd, or emailed. Surely those terrible thieves would have crank called me by now? Maybe My Lovely Paris kept my information in a special place. That must be it. I’ll write her another letter and ask if this is what she has done. I would understand, I have a special place for all my photos of My Lovely Paris hidden where no one could possibly find them. Because they are mine. All mine. I quickly wrote a quick note to My Lovely Paris, ran down to the copy center to make the usual 37 copies, stuffed the envelopes with my precious letter to My Lovely Paris. Much to my surprise, I found that the Postal Service Branches were all closed! I was so disappointed. I would have walked around my neighborhood to clear my head like I usually do, but I was tired. I decided to rent a movie and just relax., so I went down to my local video store to see if there was anything I haven’t seen yet. As I was perusing the shelves, I noticed a movie I had yet to view. It’s called Mean Girls. It’s with this new actress named Lindsey Lohan. From the picture on the video box, I can tell I am going to really like this new actress. She looks lovely.
Wow, I remember when I first noticed her, I knew she was a talent that could not be held back. It was her first film that caught my eye. The artistry and the daring use of night vision to capture what a standard camera could never capture: Passion. Raw passion. I knew the moment I saw this piece of cinematic mastery, that I had to meet this extraordinary performer. Seeing the emotion, the pure ecstasy on her face in this film, I knew she was “in the moment.” I knew she was acting, yet, I felt that what I was seeing on the screen was real- a sure sign of a great actress. Her performance was even more astonishing when I found out how young she was. I knew I had to find this complex, and yet, so young an actress.
I started the search for more information about her on the web, and to my surprise I was not the only one enamored with this new this fearless and dynamic actress. I was surprised that there were literally hundreds of places on the web with information on this film and its star. Even with the overwhelming number of web pages dedicated to her, I was determined to read them all just to find any nugget about her. I quickly found what I was looking for, her name: Paris. Ahh, surely this was serendipitous. With a name like Paris, I knew she was a world-class women with world class culture and intelligence. Paris’ parents saw I what I see now, a beauty destined for greatness. But I wanted more. Upon further research, I found a news site with a story about how My Lovely Paris was deeply embarrassed by the very film I found to be so amazing in its passion and authenticity. I could not understand why My Lovely Paris would be embarrassed. I wanted to express my feelings of admiration for her and her wonderful talent let her know she had nothing to be embarrassed about. I needed to tell her I watched that same film over and over and over again. The only time I stopped watching was when my boss called enquiring about where I had been for the last week and why I hadn’t been to work. When I explained why I was missing work, he said he understood and that I needn’t come to work until I pulled myself together. I had no idea my boss would be so understanding; he let me have all the time I needed to, as he put it, “figure things out.” Why, he even gave me a phone number of a doctor he told me might be able to help. I never was able to call the doctor, I’ve been so busy trying to get a hold of My Lovely Paris. I just hadn’t had the time what with planning all the trips to L.A.
With renewed vigor knowing my boss was behind me 100%, I continued my search. After several more days, I finally came across a “fan” site for My Lovely Paris. Well, I wouldn’t call it a fan site; it was full of ridicule and hatred for her talent (there seemed to be so many like this; obviously there is a lot of jealousy because of My Lovely Paris’ talent.) But within this hateful site, I found an address I could use to finally contact My Lovely Paris. I quickly sat down to write a letter explaining how she had changed my life, how if we could meet, I would be forever grateful and in her debt.
After completing the letter, I ran down to the local Postal Service Branch to buy stamps and send it off to My Lovely Paris. After posting the letter I felt as light as air, I was dancing down the street with joy. I waited a week for My Lovely Paris to reply to my letter. Nothing came. I waited for another week. And another. And another. And another. Concerned that my letter hadn’t arrived at My Lovely Paris’ address; that The Postal Service had failed in their sacred duty, I marched down to the Postal Service Branch and demanded to know if my letter was delivered to My Lovely Paris! The Postal Service Employee told me that if the letter were addressed correctly, it would have arrived at its destination. She then had the audacity to question whether I had written the proper address on the envelope! “Of course I had written the proper address!” I yelled (pounding the desk repeatedly to show I was serious. I have found pounding on something helps to get one’s point across.) Because I am such an expressive individual, the Postal Service Employee backed up to give me room so I could properly express myself. I find that people will do this often as I walk down the street discussing with myself how my day went. People are nice that way. I like that I am given my space. Out of obvious concern for my plight, the Postal Service Employee asked that I leave and that perhaps I should write the letter again and send through another Postal Service Branch. I knew what she was getting at; she was trying to tell me, without jeopardizing her job, that the particular Postal Service Branch tended to lose mail. I nodded and said, “Yes, yes. Different branch. Send a new letter from a different branch.” I winked at her to let her know that her secret was safe with me – I really felt we bonded at that moment. I really should go back and say “hi” to her some day. I think she would like that. As I left the Postal Service Branch, in my head, I was already composing the new letter.
As I was walking down the street, it struck me, I didn’t want there to be a chance that my next letter to be lost in the mail. I decided what I had to do was to mail multiple copies of the same letter from different Postal Service Branches. When I got home, I found the White Pages to see where all the Postal Service Branches in the city were located. I found that are 37 Postal Service Branches in the city. I quickly composed my letter, tore the pages from my spiral notebook and ran down to the local copy shop. I bought 37 envelopes and made 37 copies of my letter to be sent to My Lovely Paris. It took me all day to mail these; I had t figure out which bus route to take to get to the 37 Postal Service Branches. By the time I was done, I knew I had ensured My Lovely Paris would receive my letters.
Again I waited for My Lovely Paris to reply. I waited and waited. It troubled me that My Lovely Paris hadn’t responded. Surely this wonderful vision of beauty and grace would have written me back! I made sure the letters included everything there is to know about me. How I like to take long walks at night through the neighborhood and look into the houses to see what my neighbors are doing. It really is fascinating how different people are! I told her how when my dog died when I was a kid, my father had good old Scruffy stuffed and mounted over the fireplace so we wold never forget him. There was so much I told her, surely she would want to know more. I gave her a rundown of my daily routine, my itinerary for the trip to L.A. to see her. I told her everything! But she hadn’t written back. I was at a loss. I needed time to think. I thought that maybe I had insulted her. Or someone read the letter and was jealous of our friendship and made sure Paris’ letter back to me never got mailed – those Hollywood types can be that way, you know. I hopde that wasn’t the case. After all, she is My Lovely Paris.
Well, like I do so often when I need to think, I took a long walk. I found myself standing in front of the office building I work in downtown. It was nice to see the place, I hadn’t been there in weeks so I decided to go up and visit my boss on the 4th floor. I decided to go on up and ask why he hadn’t returned my calls (I had been calling him to see if it was okay that I take off more time.) As I entered the building, the security guard stopped me and told me I was not allowed to enter the building. I understood; the building must have been conducting a fire drill. Happens all the time. I told the Security Guard I would wait out front. I waited for hours to see my boss. Finally at 5:10 my boss came out. Seeing me for the first time in weeks, he naturally looked surprised. I explained to him that his voice mail wasn’t working because I had left at least a dozen messages the day before. He agreed that his voice mail must not have been working properly and that he’d check into it. He also said he understood that I was under a lot of stress and that I needn’t come into to work anymore until I find the help I need. It turns out he and the other managers were discussing how best to handle my case. Isn’t it wonderful how concerned they are for me! They even said “case” like some detective show. I felt like I was in an episode of NYPD Blue. I really should send him some jam for showing such concern. I thanked him for his concern and told him I would let him know how my search was going. He said I needn’t worry about keeping him abreast of any details, he wanted to be left out of it. I understood why he said I didn’t need to tell him, he clearly wanted me to spend all my energy trying to contact My Lovely Paris. People are so nice.
As my boss backed through the entrance of office building, I noticed a black limousine slowly pulling up beside me and stop. From the front seat of the limousine, a large and burly man approached me and asked me if I was _______. I said, “Yes, I am my good sir.” He looked to the back of the limo where, through the partly opened window, I heard a woman say, “do it.” As the window rolled up, I could have sworn I saw a Chihwawa in the back seat. Before I blacked out, I remember thinking that My Lovely Paris has a dog just like that.
Oh, it was a couple of days after that when I heard about how My Lovely Paris’ cell phone was “hacked.” That’s when I realized I was going to have to change my phone number, email addresses and IM. After all, My Lovely Paris had all my information; I had sent it to her so many times, surely she kept all my contact information with all her other friends information? After all, I am My Lovely Paris’ most loyal friend. But it had been weeks since this terrible theft took place, and I haven’t been called, IM'd, or emailed. Surely those terrible thieves would have crank called me by now? Maybe My Lovely Paris kept my information in a special place. That must be it. I’ll write her another letter and ask if this is what she has done. I would understand, I have a special place for all my photos of My Lovely Paris hidden where no one could possibly find them. Because they are mine. All mine. I quickly wrote a quick note to My Lovely Paris, ran down to the copy center to make the usual 37 copies, stuffed the envelopes with my precious letter to My Lovely Paris. Much to my surprise, I found that the Postal Service Branches were all closed! I was so disappointed. I would have walked around my neighborhood to clear my head like I usually do, but I was tired. I decided to rent a movie and just relax., so I went down to my local video store to see if there was anything I haven’t seen yet. As I was perusing the shelves, I noticed a movie I had yet to view. It’s called Mean Girls. It’s with this new actress named Lindsey Lohan. From the picture on the video box, I can tell I am going to really like this new actress. She looks lovely.
posted by Michael at 1:05 PM
1 Comments:
That's absolutely hilarious. I'm trying not to think about type of jam he makes.
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