Feb. 13th 03'
Well Hello My Cutie Putootie with a fine little booty!
How the hell are you? I'm OK. Just too lazy to write, typing is much, much faster. I hope you weren't too late to work today. I didn't mean to upset you so stinkin' much. Sorry I am such a darn crybaby. It pains me to stress you as I did. I send you a buttload of the sincerest apologies possible. I just hate to see you go from happy as heck, to sudden "disintegration". I am so glad that I could come over and sleep next your warm, smooth body. You sounded so broken on the phone late last night; I had to come see you. Gosh, and I thought I needed to see you before we had spoken on the phone! Boy oh boy was I wrong. For Sheezy.
It sucked, I read thought the entire fucking employment newspaper and every job was either for drivers, or registered nurses, or dominatrix's with penises. Any job that didn't require some quite specialized skill was in Tacoma, or Bellevue, or Kent. The very few jobs that weren't specialized or distant required a driver's license. There was one listing for Sear's in Seattle (testing stuff that the repairmen fix) that I am going to call, and the only other possible thing in there was a bartender class for two hundred dollars or less for a one week course and job placement. $15-$35 per hour. I don't know if that is what I want, but it is a relatively cheap class that could give me enough knowledge to always fall back on bartending forever. Not that I would want to have a career in fucking bartending, but it pays well, and supposedly bartenders are almost always needed in our state. Oh, and don't forget that I could bring home the ugly skank sitting at the bar that no one else picked up every night. I am sure you know I am just kidding. You better. This was the first time I had browsed through "Today's Careers" and it was quite disappointing. There were tons of listings, but none for me. Punk motherfucker ass shit licking newspaper.
Anyways. <A> is lucky he is somewhat my friend because if he weren't, <R> and I would run up in his house with some ski masks and rob that fool blind. Besides when I saw my uncle's grow room, I have never seen so much pot in my life. He was making a deal last night of a whole pound. The deal ended up getting screwed up in a major way though. One of <A's> buddies set up the deal with some "big black guys". He told the "big black guys" that he could get a pound of good chronic for four grand. The "big black guys" gave the friend all of the money up front (I don't know why, but they knew the friend so I guess they trusted him) and the friend went to another of <A's> buddies (<J>) and told him to set up the deal through <A>, giving <J> 3300 dollars (the price <A> charges for a pound). <J> goes to <A> with the 3300 (not knowing that the other friend collected 4000) and picked up the pound. <J> went to meet the "big black guys" and presented the pot to them. They weren't impressed with the quality and did not wish to make the purchase. <J> was cool with that and said, "Here is your 3300 bucks". That is when the "big black guys" informed him that they had put up four thousand dollars to the other friend. Luckily, the "big black guys" understood that <J> wasn't the one who had the 700 dollars and weren't upset with him. That is all that went down as of last night, but I am sure something will happen to this other friend at a later date. He has some nerve. If you ask me, in general it is OK to profit off of hooking up a drug deal. When you hook up a deal, you put your butt on the line and you deserve something out of being the darn middleman. But, If you do, you better make sure that everything falls through OK, other wise you will get killed for 700 fucking bucks.
Sorry to rant off some boring drug story but it doesn't go down like that too often. A pound is 256 twenty sacks. As I am sure you know, that is a LOT of marywanna. OK, OK, I will change the boring drug subject. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. How is that for a good new subject? Now see, that was another good reason to type a letter versus writing. Copy. Paste. Repeat. Instant multiple "I love you's"! Aren't I the sweetest? I already know what your answer will be, so don't even bother.
You tell me everyday how sweet I am to you. It astounds me that you fear that you are not kind enough to me. Each and every day you shower me with constant compliments; and believe me <Gonad>, I know it. I've never been treated with such kindness and sincerity in my entire life. You cause my cranium to expand six millimeters each and every single day; it is slowly filling with ego-flavored air. Life with my <Gonad> is pure and simple bliss. I adore you, my love. Now I know you won't, but please do not forget that. Who could ask for anything more? Not I.
Your Bumble Bear,
<Ex>
