The following handwritten letter was recently found on the steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I’m still trying to rhyme ‘homicidal maniac’ with something sexy for that Tampax songwriting contest. I’m also struggling to rhyme ‘rape kit’ in a ballad about a long-distance relationship that turns into forbidden 'Ain't no mountain high enough' passion in pre-1941 Yugoslavia, when Croats, Slovenes and the Kingdom of Serbs lived in an uneasy, but copasetic peace. Or wait, maybe I was excited to hear about Heidi Montag’s clothing line (which I must put on my body), or it was her intention to record a CD. Finally, a once-unknown pseudo-celebrity starring in a partially scripted reality program can record a decent Christian album. Anyway, if I win the Tampax gig, I get a complete kitchen remodeling makeover! Which is awesome! If I, uh…had a kitchen. Huh. I don’t even have a house, let alone an apartment. Hmm, wow, starting to think it was foolish to enter if I didn’t actually have a kitchen.

Damn, I’ll probably never get that non-refundable $25 entry fee back,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Utah Phillips & Ani DiFranco, “Bridges”