A Fuck Me...I Mean, Fuck You Letter @ Wednesday, May. 12, 2004

Dear Tim,

I was a bit dismayed when I found out the person you were going to dinner with tonight and are bring to the bar with you is your ex...although we've all been there, done that.

I think it was the conversation we had this afternoon that makes this so disappointing. You seemed so interested in my wicker basket...and, I must say, it only warmed me up.

Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know that these jeans I'm wearing hug my ass cheeks just right and this shirt - take a look at the cleavage! These earrings? Made by my own hands and you know how good they are at several other clever things. And my make up - spotless. No circles under these eyes, you might notice...I know that you're used to seeing that little flaw on a woman.

Oops! Did I say that out loud?

And also, tonight, when I sing "These Boots are Made For Walkin'" I might be singing to you...or perhaps you'd rather to hear "Fever" instead?

Well, my cigarette is almost out and my pre-drink is nearly finished so I'll sign this with --

X's & O's,

Emily

P.S. Why yes, that is fuck me perfume I'm wearing!