When you can't be there for someone, sometimes you do the best you can with what you have.
This wasn't much comfort to Sarah, but she didn't feel like wasting time complaining or getting angry over something she couldn't change.
She kissed the slip of paper, put it in an envelope, and mailed it to her one true love.
The mailman took it for himself and hid it away in a desk, bringing it out every so often when he felt sad and lonely.
A coworker discovered the letter and showed it to their boss.
He growled and mailed it.
Black Tie Martini Club is working on a landmark production that in a less-fucked-up-universe should cause tsunami-level waves across the podosphere.
Fuck Dawn and Drew.
Fuck Adam Curry.
Fuck Leo Laporte.
This is the shit podcasting was made for: crazy-assed insane "I've got a digital barn, let's put on a show" collaboration.
Yeah, this one's gonna get me lynched.
Fuck it. No matter how hard you tie the rope, you can't choke off my laughter.
Now I want to dig up some other old scripts and get them polished.
And, yes, I'll make sure there's more than two parts in them. Otherwise Daphne's gonna whiiiiiiiiiine.
Sheesh.