Postcards.

The mail has recently brought us two postcards. They are for a guy who lived here before us, and I was immediately taken by the images on the postcards, because I am easily amused and it says “fuck” real big.

I normally wouldn’t read someone’s mail, but it’s a postcard and all right there, so like, you know I did… It’s postmarked from Australia and written in awful light green pen in that writing that looks like it should be on a crumpled notebook paper that reads, “i like you do u like me” with all the i’s dotted with little hearts. Little did I realize…

Dude. Like the profanity? I love this shit. How are ya? Back to work? Got some RIPPER News – I got into med school! At long last. Its a grad degree so only 4-5 years. I am extremely excited. And once I’m all graduated I can work almost anywhere in the world! You never answered my question – will you ever go to the goldenglobes? If so, can I be your date one year? PS-Please. (heart) Heidi

The second one retains its bubbly style, but this time in black marker and, well, a whole lot harsher tone…

Dude. How are you? You never answered my question about the Golden Globes – I want to come. A LOT. Just been back to UK for little holiday + caught up with Tom from Rome – still a top bloke! His girlfriend makes these postcards. Started med school. I love it. (heart) Heidi

So the moral of the story is, Heidi wants to go to the Golden Globes, DUDE. Somehow, I think it’s no accident Heidi doesn’t have the proper address.

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3 Responses to “Postcards.”

  1. christophocles Says:

    Dude, will you take me to the golden globes instead

  2. gilbert arenas Says:

    we were getting mail from jail. of course, they weren’t post cards, so our opening of said mail could be considered a felony or something… thankfully sean opened it. it was some sex offender who thought his brother still lived in north hollywood, and send us a series of letters attempting to convince his brother to join a pyramid scheme. every part of it was depressing, though less so than when i found out some girl in long beach was giving out a fake number that just so happened to be my phone number.

  3. Years ago at Newhall Street a gentleman from the frat house had multiple deliveries of roses sent for a girl… of which wasn’t Jane, me, or Ted…. We enjoyed the fresh cuts yet felt horrible since we never sent a thank you card from his beloved… who moved at least 2 years previous…

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