Sometimes, people say things to me. Things like "Kitty Pimms, why are you so sarcastic all the time?"
Or, "Oh, Kitty. Don't people have the right to go out to dinner without having their sartorial choices critiqued?"
Or even, "Can't we just have one conversation where you don't try to eviscerate me with your razor-sharp wit?"
In brief, I have a reputation for being somewhat acerbic. Perhaps I remind you of this fellow.
In answer to these, and other similar questions, allow me to present some email correspondence on the subject of a recently deceased pop star:
From: grandmapimms@thisisnotreal.com
Subject: (no subject)
To: mommapimms@totallymadeup.net, unclepimms@fake.org, cousinpimms@imaginaryemail.co.uk, kittypimms@girlishwhimsy.com
Michael who????
From: mommapimms@totallymadeup.net
Subject: (no subject)
To: grandmapimms@thisisnotreal.com, unclepimms@fake.org, cousinpimms@imaginaryemail.co.uk, kittypimms@girlishwhimsy.com
that guy from Gary, Indiana; Gary, Indiana; Gary, Indiana
The music conservatory there...you know....
From: unclepimms@fake.org
Subject: (no subject)
To: grandmapimms@thisisnotreal.com, mommapimms@totallymadeup.net, cousinpimms@imaginaryemail.co.uk, kittypimms@girlishwhimsy.com
I heard that the paramedics reported that in spite of their best efforts, Michael never did regain his color :-)
With this gene pool, I never had a chance.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
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1 remarks:
I still remain adamant that it was not a heart attack, but rather that his face had finally collapsed after all these years and he suffocated in his sleep.
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