Happy New Year! I said I would do no promotion for Sabiscuit’s Catalog, but I was so disappointed after dinner with two airheads that in my despair, I went against policy and went through a list of all of my frieeends to see which of them I could ask to subscribe to my blog. Please laugh now. Turns out, apart from subscribers, I have none, aside from “email@example.com”.
So I turned to a very star studded cast of enemies for support. Nineteen white flags were waved. In addition, I invited six people who are followers of a social media account that was created with my email address by one very disgruntled former disciple. He has a cushy university teaching job now thanks to my merciless bullying, so you’re welcome, Ryan!!!!
My real name isn’t Ruva Kungingunun, so I don’t know who is updating my account. I was at the bookstore at midnight whispering mysteriously into the speaker of my iPhone, dictating to Siri, and staring down curious customers. If you’re reading this after that mysterious email, this is the story. This is my way of saying, “Thank you for visiting, and sorry.”
I’m a horrid person. I value my subscribers dearly, because really you are just the sweetest, loveliest people, ever assembled in an iPad app. But, I thought I might need to do better than this and find some flesh and bones outside of my Apple devices to hang on to.
Alright, let’s suspend that thought for a minute. I haven’t had a face to face conversation with a woman, apart from relatives, who speaks English as a native language, in a while. Most people I speak to, in any country, speak it as a second language. This is somehow not normal. New York City: Find me one person who speaks English as a native language. Wait…there was that one stalker from the grocery shop. I should have followed him home. Jorge made my carrot and beet juice, but he did it silently in Guatemalan, or was he Lebanese. I don’t know.
The women in my city are useless, as they can’t do any topic more difficult than milk toast, and do Instagram updates of themselves coming out of the shower. I like to pepper my conversations with Latin and references to the Viking Sagas, so it’s a tough audience. I spent years studying a particular foreign language, only to learn that the people I would converse with were just uninterested in actual conversation.
Everyone in my peer group here manages their own business, so thinking can’t be that hard. However, there was a lot of eye rolling at dinner today, when I told my forty year old best friend, that at forty, she needed to be her own Goddess. Apparently, people with boyfriends don’t need their own self esteem because their boyfriends give it to them. Also, she, my best friend went snowboarding with a client after I got sick and was kind enough to bring her along for dinner on the way back. So, that’s why, as mentioned at the start, I have only one woman friend. And I can’t rely on her.
I am going to need to find a new peer group of people who use their brains to think, so please come through for me. Thank you.
Update 2015/01/04 15:40 UTC
My cryptic messages worked, and the response from “enemies” was overwhelming. Special thanks go to new readers from Australia and Iceland. Yay!