And my blind dad is really going to like the blind poem. Seriously.

I know this is weird, but I read your article in the Post today about My Space and loved it. I have a really suckass (one word?) job and one of my favorite things to do is to look up really lame musicians like Justin Timberlake and then look at the profiles of the girls that send messages to them. It is creepy yet fascinating.

I first found your site when I found a link about the cat in the sweatshirt (sweater?) and have to say it was one of the funniest things I ever read, I don't know why. Well, partly because it reminds me of this woman I work with who, I swear to God, said to a customer on the phone once "I love my dog Button so much I could suck on her like a mint." Apropos of nothing. She is exactly the person he thought he was emailing.

Anyway, I am just a completely random person bored at work reading your blog occasionally and I don't know you, yet all the same I am proud of you. The other thing I do at work is write bad poetry:

Blind Date

So here I sit across from my blind date and he can't see me because, you know, he's blind

Which is fine

For some reason I feel the need to make sure he knows how cute I am because, you know, I am

Which is fine

So, I am saying things like "Oh, that guy at the bar keeps staring at me" and "I have exceptionally nice legs, it's genetic" Which, you know, is true

Which is fine.

He doesn't say anything at all, he doesn't seem impressed. He doesn't even say anything about the cute dress I am wearing which is actually, you know, adorable

Which is not fine.

Blind people are shallow

***

Happy Holidays,
K