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Saturday, March 29, 2003

[Jonathan, 12:18 AM]
Well, since I never have anything important to say, I just thought I'd put this up here to show I'm still alive. I got a junk e-mail from some woman (I assume) named Soo and felt compelled to respond:

Dear Soo,

Thank you so much for your letter! I enjoyed hearing from you. I am flattered that you thought of me first. I would always liked to be remembered for my desire to 'get sexed up tonight!' And seeing you confirm that, well... it just puts a tear in my eye.

I am also glad to hear that you've found such satisfying work. To have a job at such a fine company as yours must bear a lot of responsibility. I'm sure it's not easy to 'find a slut today!' when most companies require two to three business days to find such a person.

It is great to see a fine young person such as yourself working in a diverse environment, comfortably interacting with males in a responsible, professional manner.

However, I must kindly decline your offer. While it is very tempting to allow you to do the matching, while I instead reap the benefits of getting laid, I simply would not be able to forgive myself for imposing on you in such an egregious manner.

This is not to comment on all those who do wish to accept the honor, for it is certainly a matter of personal choice, but at this time in my life, I do not feel that it would be beneficial for me to allow you to find a whore in my area. Thank you once again for your offer.

I will remember you dearly for your hard work and dedication to the fine business of instant date matching. Perhaps under different circumstances, I would be able to 'click here,' but that is neither here nor there.

Sincerely,

monkeybutt87@yahoo.com

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

[Jonathan, 9:09 PM]
For the sake of continuity and saving face, I present the following:

I wonder what happened to my brother.

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

[Jonathan, 8:41 PM]
I personally can't think of a better way to die.

Sunday, March 16, 2003

[Jonathan, 9:55 PM]
It would be cool if dogs were made out of chocolate.

At least then they'd taste better when you ate them.

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

[Jonathan, 7:16 AM]
Among other papers, I turned in my How to Save the World essay. The assignment was to write a satire... I got a few points off.

One of the marks said that my last paragraph bordered on the absurd. It's a real shame I couldn't reach the subtlety and realism of Jonathan Swift's proposal to eat babies, huh?

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

[Jonathan, 11:42 PM]
I hate to break the intellectual tone of the blog, but I really wanted to show this to someone. This is why I should never be allowed to write poems:

A man once lived named Ben Saintclair, who had an illness utmost rare. Take as much as you can bear of the fateful tale of

Ben Saintclair

From noon to ten, Ben's pain did blare.
But after that, his pain would flare.

Ben's pain would rage most anywhere.
On the ground, or in the air.
Cross the sea to St. Pierre,
But still would ache poor Ben Saintclair.

He'd been to Dr. Bombonare,
Provider of his primary care.
Ben's concern for his welfare
Had made the Doc a millionaire.

The good rich Doc did so declare,
"Greetings, my friend Ben Saintclair!
How do you, my patient, fare?"
Ben just groaned and took a chair.

"Doc, it hurts; it's just not fair.
It hurts me if I'm here or there.
It hurts all over, everywhere!"
Said the sick man Ben Saintclair.

"Hmm..." said Dr. Bombonare.
"Here are choices two: a pair.
Want to stay or take ZolnairĀ®?
Untested pills, so please take care.
Unless, of course, you're fine right there.
"No!" said Mr. Ben Saintclair.

Later, Ben, well, he did stare
At the side effects of the new Zolnair.
"Effects include: a loss of hair,
Nausea, and skin may tear."
Ben's life was a harsh nightmare.

Don't end up like Ben Saintclair.
Read fine print, if you dare.

Monday, March 03, 2003

[Jonathan, 10:51 PM]
This is all so very impressive. Getting blogrolled, I haven't the slightest idea what that is, but it sounds quite important. So congratulations. All right, I'll be honest, I have an idea what it is, but it's still very slight. Quite slight, right.

I do not like Tartuffe. Well, on its own, it's quite an agreeable play. A sunny disposition and fun to be around. But when one has to write a paper with proper MLA-form citations, one grows bitter. And I am one.

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