Ask Too Soxy: The Post-Wake-200 edition- R U READY?
I get SO excited when people send me mail (email@example.com) that is at a vulgarity that is publishable. DamonDemon, take note, that’s why your note with the subject heading “Why JD should ******* whale on you” was not republished.
But I did appreciate the Lucky Charms references. And the Samuel Beckett (you pay attention!) and I do hope you’ll keep writing. I am making a collage of you on my refrigerator. It’s a great conversation piece for when my plumber visits.
But anywho, In this addition of “Ask Too Soxy,” we hear from “Jon,” a self-proclaimed Tampa Fan.
Dear Too Soxy (okay, I added the dear),
Just coz ur old man finally got 200 means he can go 2 a resthome and avoid what’s comin bc we r comin at u. I just read ur dramatic blog and i rolled my eyes. we’re coming. r u ready? bc you’re sox aren’t.
Okay. So you didn’t say sincerely either. But I didn’t want to portray you as a complete jackass. You did, after all, write me. And I LOVE letters. And questions that I can answer.
“R U ready?” I am assuming you were having severe keyboard troubles. Like, you lost certain letters in a coffee accident (they happen)… oh! Or fingers in a tragic car crash. I’m sure you were saving puppies from the pound and not high tailing it down U.S. 1 with a doobie in your ash tray and a fifth in your arm crook. Because you sound like a classy puppy saver.
The editor in me would love to correct your spelling and grammar. (Note the difference between YOUR and YOU’RE. Improved grammar would probably increase the success rate of those late night booty calls. As would moving out of Tampa. Because if those empty seats are any indication, it’s slim pickin’s out by the swamp) But the girl that is still bouncing up and down on her rolly chair that you took five seconds out of your day to send me an e-mail is going to refrain from condescension. Actually, Tim Wakefield’s not the person time forgot. Nor is he rest home bound. Unless, by rest home, you mean a leather upholstered bar stool (leather’s used for more than a whippin’, see) at a nice pub. A nice pub. Not the ash-smeared stables you meet your buddies Tater and Big John at to swap hygiene tips, fish stories and PBR swigs. I see how the unfamiliar territory might instigate negativity, and can therefore forgive your subtle crack (the joke, not the candy mine in your nostrils). Or maybe you meant “old man,” the term for a father. And, while I’m flattered you think our genetics could be linked paternally, I regret to inform you that is not the case. Even though I have often hoped he would adopt me and rescue me from this horrible mountain. You know. Like Daddy Warbucks in Annie except without the frizzy hair and orphans and stuff?
I’m so glad your eyes got exercise reading my dramatic blog. Exercise is important. Especially for you. I mean, unless that impression on your couch is conceptual art, there are better things you could be doing with your time. Like noodling (the fish, not the pasta) or etch-a-sketching. I am so glad you can read! I am just so glad for you and the education system of Florida. It’s people like YOU that instigate that pause when I tell people my family’s from Florida. You’re the reason I have to add a quick “Miami” to that statement. Which has really helped me with my focus in making introductions, so thanks for your accurate stereotype depiction. You have given me something rise above. An angle for my memoir. A reason to be on whatever comes after Oprah.
Now, as for the answer to your question: Yes.
Thank you so much for your time, and e-mail me ANY time with “Ask Too Soxy” in the subject line. You have a great day. Don’t fall in! And an old people joke coming OUT of FLORIDA? Seriously. I don’t need free material, Jonny.
Remember. firstname.lastname@example.org. I would love to answer your questions. And they don’t have to be about the Red Sox. They could be about life. Or space junk. Or great white sharks. Or. Um. Sandwiches or something.