Dear Heather, (or a McGill Ghetto Love Story)

Since I met you whilst we were both moving into our respective flats I have yet to have run into you at the dep-nor have we seen each other while taking out the Thursday morning trash...

I thought it might have been my aversion to your spider plant, which I helped you carry to your flat; one hand on the pot, one on my ethanol and OJ- oops- that may have been a turn off right there... but it seems you are co-habitating with a fairly rotund person- who I assume may be your slightly mental retarded brother...

But to see you locked in some sort of affectionate embrace this morning with this below 30% guy!!!!- this morning on my way to my Fortune 500 job at a fashionable, executive, and totally sleeping in because I did too much K last night,10:30 AM, ---I see YOU!! -tongue wrestling with a man who out-weighs you 2 to 1... well....


-well-

...I think it's over-

I mean, I've watched for you, every night when I come home from work and go into the kitchen, and you don't have blinds yet, and look if you are making martinis and searching about for olives-

I have some, and would have rung your bell---but no-


I see your slightly mentally disadvantaged brother all the time- pretending to barbecue in his garish shorts, hanging out his linens (are those really his boxers??? I have some diet supplements he might want to try! I thought they were part of a bed-set...)

Anyways- despite your bad choices in incest, I am still here next door- pining as it were- your red hair forever flowing across my chest, my hands caressing the birthmark on your neck.

Oh- and your mother thinks he's a dork- she told me last night- so call me...

J