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The World's Address
Since I don't do Christmas, or in fact any of the winter holidays, I don't do Christmas cards - as those of you that didn't receive them may have noticed. I imagine the exchange went something like this:
You: [standing in your foyer, counting the Christmas cards displayed on your window ledge, looking puzzled] "It is almost a month past Christmas, and yet I am still short one Christmas card!"
Your Anthropomorphised Mail Slot: "Short a Christmas card! How can it be?"
You: "I have counted no less than three times a day, ever since the beginning of January!"
Mail Slot: "Perhaps you have mis-counted the number of friends you have."
You: "No! I very carefully consulted a panel of psychics and spirit mediums, all of whom assure me that I was meant to receive one more Christmas card than I have!"
[Editor's note: You can tell how distraught you are in this dialogue because most of your sentences end in exclamation points.]
Mail Slot: "I bet it was that evil Romie, plotting to destroy your sanity and the joy of the holidays."
You: "Not Romie! She is so thoughtful, not to mention stunningly beautiful and posessed of a cunning grace."
Mail Slot: "You are right, although you forgot to mention that she is an insightful philosopher and a skilled artist. Besides, no one would be so thoughtless as to withold a Christmas card when it is such an important cultural ritual. Perhaps it was merely misdirected to a starving child in Africa who was named after you."
You: "That's it, I'm sure, but nevertheless Christmas is ruined forever."
[Then you cry and cry until you drown in your own tears.]
In any case, I now offer you a chance to repair your broken heart! And on the heart-oriented day of St. Valentine's! Just fill in your address, and I'll send an individual and likely absurd hand-made card your way.
[Poll #235576]
You: [standing in your foyer, counting the Christmas cards displayed on your window ledge, looking puzzled] "It is almost a month past Christmas, and yet I am still short one Christmas card!"
Your Anthropomorphised Mail Slot: "Short a Christmas card! How can it be?"
You: "I have counted no less than three times a day, ever since the beginning of January!"
Mail Slot: "Perhaps you have mis-counted the number of friends you have."
You: "No! I very carefully consulted a panel of psychics and spirit mediums, all of whom assure me that I was meant to receive one more Christmas card than I have!"
[Editor's note: You can tell how distraught you are in this dialogue because most of your sentences end in exclamation points.]
Mail Slot: "I bet it was that evil Romie, plotting to destroy your sanity and the joy of the holidays."
You: "Not Romie! She is so thoughtful, not to mention stunningly beautiful and posessed of a cunning grace."
Mail Slot: "You are right, although you forgot to mention that she is an insightful philosopher and a skilled artist. Besides, no one would be so thoughtless as to withold a Christmas card when it is such an important cultural ritual. Perhaps it was merely misdirected to a starving child in Africa who was named after you."
You: "That's it, I'm sure, but nevertheless Christmas is ruined forever."
[Then you cry and cry until you drown in your own tears.]
In any case, I now offer you a chance to repair your broken heart! And on the heart-oriented day of St. Valentine's! Just fill in your address, and I'll send an individual and likely absurd hand-made card your way.
[Poll #235576]