Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Pour a little out...

for a [soon to be ex] homie.

Slammy's moving out. Frankly, he lasted longer than I expected, though, in reality, he's hardly ever here; and when he is here, he doesn't acknowledge anyone in the household. It's been a bit like living on the set of The Others.

In honor of his departure, I offer this Letter Never Sent that was part of a Metachat thread several months back.


Hi! How are you? I am fine. Do you mind if I call you 'Slammy'...? No? That's wonderful, thanks!

Slammy, you are a mystery to me. How is it that you can slam your door so hard that the pictures in my room - two rooms away in a sturdy early 1900's Victorian - shake on the walls and yet remain catergorically unable to close the front door, the back door, pantry doors, or microwave door? And let's not get started on the lights, the bathroom fan or the gas heater that you would turn on full blast, while leaving the wind tunnel from the open front and back doors in full effect, but slamming your door repeatedly (further nullifying the warming effect of the heater on you) for what I can assume would be shits and giggles.

We know you're here, now pipe down. If you open it, close it - preferrably like a sane and well adjusted adult - and put on a fucking sweater, already.

Slammy, I'm not really going to miss you, but I have truly appreciated your capacity for the unique. Best of luck, Prince Charming!

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