The following handwritten letter was found crumpled up on the snow-encrusted marble steps of McKinley Hall:
Dear Lisa,
Can you believe that our lowly serf bitch housemaid from Southern Ecuador had the smug know-it-all gall to call me, me—the biggest pompous goddess of immodest ego—a stuck-up and conceited primadonna? Who does that inconsequential peon think she is compared to my regal status as queen of swelled-head self-importance? Hey did you clear your throat mucus into my moisture-wicking workout socks again? It’s either that or my inside-out cat finally emptied his digestive sack after weeks of storing up prescription strength fish chum cat dinners in his intestines. Just realized Christmas is on for December 25th again. It’s like so confusing every year. Say that reminds me, can complex math formulas be used as analogies for physical determinism?
This is the month with New Years eve, right?
Kristin
Song of the Day:
Japanty, “Koi no hareruya”
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