I received this Email today. I have deleted the names from it even though I felt pretty certain that if I blogged about it-the senders would not be aware. Perhaps it was the spelling of my name as "Laurie Vefferey" whatever; I knew if it wasn't on My Space they most likely wouldn't read it--so here it is:
Dear Laurie Vefferey,
During the Fall of 2005, we, (name deleted) and (name deleted), worked as
interns at the ?Our Name is Mud? warehouse on 29th street in
Manhattan. It was through our high school, School of the Future, that
we acquired the internship. We loved the work we did there and felt
that we really helped out, even without professional training( what
you taught us was enough to produce quality results). The work
environment, was just as pleasant. Both of us would very much like to
work during this coming summer starting in late May. We would also
love to include our good friend, (name deleted), who graduated with us
last June from School of the Future. Please e-mail us back or call us
at (cell phone number with my humps ringtone deleted) to let us know whether there will be any work
opportunities this summer.
Thank you very much and we look forward to your response,
(three names deleted).
Dear Darling Interns,
I don't fault you for forgetting my name after spending eight months with me. Frankly, when I try to recall your names, an image of a thong appearing everytime you sat down is all that comes to mind. Perhaps we should both start taking some ginko balobao or St. John's Wort. So forgive me if the facts of our association are a bit hazy. Did you say I had you work in the warehouse? Because usually we just move our stolen merchandise through the warehouse. Or hang sides of beef to cure. I'm surprised I put interns into the warehouse--perhaps I meant to sell you on ebay at some point and just forgot.
I'm glad that you realize what I had to offer over the course of eight months was not "professional training"! Most of the time people don't realize that I am just pulling stuff out of my butt--so kudos to you, dear interns, for seeing through the smoke and mirrors and realizing that I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM DOING! But man-that "quality results" thing--it gets me every time. People are so dern gullible. Just throw some of that clay stuff onto that round thing and paint it with some of those glazey things then throw it into that oven thing and presto--people are impressed. And to think I honed all of my skills on a playdough fuzzy pumper.
About the work environment: an image of you all comes to mind--throwing your hands over your ears and begging me not to play the Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack for the third time. Did you really mean to use the word "pleasant?" Or did you really mean "peasant"-- because I also have a memory of where I called you all indentured servants and made you call me Lord Lorrie and we discussed the fact that you were serfs--which you thought meant surfs--and you thought we were going to the beach-- so I had to lock you up in the warehouse again.
I guess my biggest question is-who drew the short straw? Did it go something like this:
"You Email her."
"No-YOU Email her."
"I'm not gonna Email her. YOU Email her."
"Bitch-I will beat your ass if you don't Email her."
"Listen Bitch-Road Rules 15 is on right now. You Email her."
"Fine, I will Email her, but since you are making me do all the work I'm gonna include (name deleted) because he is fine."
Because what I really, really want is a POTTERY POSSE!! It's true girls! Can I just tell you that when I advertize and collect applications for an actual vacancy, and some of you come along with your friend and I say "Who's this" and you say "It's my friend, he just wanted to come while I apply" and then later he asks if he can borrow a pen because what the heck he's here so why not fill in an application-I AM ALL OVER THAT GIRLS. And later, when I look and see that he has placed his gum underneath the table at which you were sitting, I think; hmmm. I can see this person in my WAREHOUSE. But I digress...
You are our future, gals. I believe that children are our future. ( I also believe Whitney is better off without Bobby and she will make a great COME BACK.) Sadly, I do not think I will ask the two of you plus your friend to COME BACK. Nothing personal: we had some great times and all. You were awesome. I mean, from what I can remember.