[Ok, let me clear up this post. I have an old email address with a name that is spelled with 1’s and 0’s instead of i’s and o’s (cuz I’m a hax0r!). I rarely check it; it’s my ‘throwaway’ one for signing up for newsletters and stuff like that. I received this email in that inbox today. I am assuming it was meant for someone with a similiar email address to mine, probably spelled with an ‘i’ or an ‘o’ in place of one of the ones or zeroes. Hope this helps – Eric]
Date: Thu 23 Aug 2007 18:45:28 +0000
To: “pickles” <my old email address I barely check>
From: <name deleted>
Subject: Pickles, I’m taking you out of my 5
Listen up Bro.
Thats it. Your out. I’ve had it.
We talked about renting that house on the lake for 2 years now. We had everybody in on it. Even Bonesy. The deposit has been cashed. Theres no going back.
Then suddenly Kristin decides she doesn’t want you getting drunk with youre moron friends (us) and now you can’t go?
AND THEN you have the fucking BALLS to ASK FOR YOUR GODDAM DEPOSIT BACK???
Are you seirous, bro?
Look me in the eye and tell me that any bitch is worth this.
Take a bible and swear to me that you think its cool for a girl to tell you who you can and cant hang out with.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re all happy your in love and all that gay shit, but theres a limit.
Apparently “love” means never being able to speak your mind and stick up for yourself. And letting some chick you’ve known like six months come in and change your whole life. Or I guess those throw pillows were your idea?
Give me a fucking break, you pussy.
You make all of us sick with your stupid baby talk and pet names and eskomo kisses. You don’t think we know youre fucking lying when you tell us your tired at 10:30? You don’t think we know youre sneaking off to go watch mada bout you or whatever 50 year old married couples do?
But we didn’t complain. Not to your face, anyway. We even pretended to like that bitch and not be pissed off when you brought her every where only so she could start whining and tell you that you had to leave just when things started getting good.
Thats all I’m saying, bro. Be honest. Don’t fucking lie to me. Don’t tell me youre sick of strip clubs and you like white wine better now. Nobody actually likes that shit. They just say that to sound smart and whatnot.
Goddamit, Im not gonna fucking cry about this!
I hate you! I hate that you can do this to me! That you have this power over me!
I love you, man. I know Im not supposed to say anything over email, but I don’t care. I love our time alone together. When its just you and me under the covers. Nothing else matters!
Look, Im sorry, just give me a call, OK? Im not really going to take you out of my five, so don’t sweat it. Just call me any time, I’ll be up.