A Letter

Dear The Internet,

Thank you so much for your kind offer of a share in the Spanish National Lottery. While I have no recollection of having been to Spain, there was that one bout of sleep walking when it is, in theory, possible I drove to the airport, boarded a plane, passport at the ready, flew 15 hours, purchased a ticket for the lottery, got my passport stamped, again boarded an aircraft, flew another 15 hours, drove home, and crawled back into bed all without waking, I sincerely doubt I would have done so without purchasing even one souvenir postcard. That would be terribly unlike me, even in my sleep. While I would happily collect my share of the winnings, I am afraid you have me confused with some other "Kyddryn" who even now is awaiting news of her windfall, hoping it will come in time to pay for the kidney she hopes to purchase from you via an underground live-organ-donor website...not that she needs one, but she's starting a collection.

Thank you, too, for your generous offer to sell me Viagra and other medications via a Canadian pharmacy, no prescription needed. I had thought to drive to Mexico for my performance enhancing drugs, but ordering them through you for delivery right here to my home seems so much easier and safer. Everyone knows that Canadia* is polite, clean, and honest, and I know you couldn't possibly be exaggerating when you tell me I could "go all night" and "please her for hours". I was unaware of my Lesbian leanings until you told me I needed your supplements to make her happy. I am wondering, though, about entering her "like a bull". Why would I enter a bull...to what purpose, and how? Also, I'm sure that some folks are keen on that sort of thing, but it sounds uncomfortable and like it might chafe, so I'll pass.

Not to be indelicate, dear Internet, but I believe you may have mistaken me for an outie, not an innie, with another of your missives. It happens, especially when I wear my hair up, so I won't hold it against you. However, I do think it would be awfully nice if you'd stop sending me offers to lengthen, enlarge, or otherwise alter my penis in some fashion. While I've been to an adult toy store more than once** and found them fascinating, I never brought home my own penis. If I had I'm fairly certain it could not be lengthened or enlarged without serious damage to the structural integrity...and some of them? Don't need it! I like the one attached to Someone*** just fine the way it is, thank you, and don't consider that one "mine" anyway. On the one occasion you offered me an unguent to enlarge my breasts, I had to decline as well. My back aches enough with my tiny ta-tas, I don't need enormous hooters weighing me down and causing havoc to my spine. I have consulted Someone and he assures me that, should he wish larger gazongas to play with, he'll go fondle someone else instead, which suits me fine. My mazulagallagawongas shall remain petite (unlike the rest of me).

I would take it as a kindness, too, if you would refrain from asking me to perform acts of questionable morality and legality by accepting funds from your African bank into my American one so as to hide them from authorities, or secreting stolen Iraqi treasure in my crawlspace, or things of that ilk. It's not that I'm afraid of getting caught or anything - I'm a shockingly good liar, in fact - it's just that my crawlspace is full of evidence holiday decorations at the moment, and I am loathe to disturb the spiders. Black Widows can be so testy.

Finally, dear Internet, I thank you for your solicitous interest in my weight loss endeavours. Shedding my fifty-acre ass has, in fact, been a struggle, and your lotions, pills, and diet plans all sound like a breeze. I am sorely tempted. Honestly, all this eating less, eating fresh, natural foods, and taking more exercise are such a bore...why wouldn't I rather take a pill that makes my heart pound like the timpani at the beginning of 2001, A Space Odyssey? Arrhythmia is fun! Still, I can't even be relied upon to take a vitamin pill on a daily basis, so I fear your wonderful medicines would just be wasted on me, so could you please stop offering? I do so hate to waste the time you've spent personally typing each e-mail to me.

You're a good friend, dear Internet, always looking out for me. Some day I hope to return the favor.

Shade and Sweetwater,
K

*That's not a typo, it's a joke. If you don't get it, no worries - some jokes are just for me.

**Sorry, Mum. I'll bring you some mental floss next time I visit.

***Sorry Someone, Mum, Mister Hermit, sir, and anyone else who is now in the throes of TMI. With enough time and therapy, the scars will fade and you may even be able to lead a somewhat normal life.