Hellish Alfrer

dear pajama king--


do you remember this asshat mindfuck? (really, tiz, how do you feel? deep down in that special place. don't hold anything back.)

hellish alfrer found me on facebook. hellish alfrer, the strange strange man with whom i would sing the music of hector wiley-loco. yes...the man for whom i played "la loon" at cami hall. yes...the concert where we all met ultra violet.

this guy used to push my buttons like nobody's business. always said i was angry. said he could tell because he could see my bottom teeth when i spoke. well, sweet jesus, if he'd had teeth like mine he'd be showing them off, too. but he'd always tell me i was angry...in an angry manner. well, that really doesn't help the anger, does it? kinda exponentiates it. (the squiggly red line is telling me that's not a word but bite me, little red line, i like it.)

can you tell he's pushed my buttons again?

he i.m's me which i don't notice because...well...i kinda hate i.m.s.

he writes...

"wow. haven't heard of you in ages."

well...that's belittling.

and when i don't respond within one minute, he continues...

"you're probably angry with me for the review you wanted where you weren't even mentioned."

what?

keine clue what he's talking about. (should be "keine clue what he's talking about, bitch." so i don't end my sentence with that pesky preposition.) and why would he bring up something that might have been painful TWENTY YEARS AGO? if there's no apology attached, who'd wanna hear it?

can you say "defriend?" i bet you can.

okay. thanks. i'm done.

smoochers and squeezes,
me


p.s. dear chakras yoga--


you wanted to spend an afternoon in my head? well...


this is what it looked like in my noggin a coupla minutes ago.

but the sunshine and lollipops and floppy-eared puppies have returned. never you fear.

tons,

tizzy