Not that you care, but…

Posted by Lizzie on 11/02/06

We’re back. And sorry. We’re sorry! We haven’t blogged in NINETY-SIX THOUSAND YEARS and damned if we really don’t have an excuse–except for being, despite recent assurances to the contrary, a, you know, bad person. But all that is over now! We are happily or in any event ineluctably ensconced in C.-Gard, Brooklyn, where the collective surrounding weight of other writers promises to ensure we will never write another article, to say nothing of a book, until we are 57. (Do you know we wrote ELEVEN BOOKS IN BALTIMORE? Eleven. We had like eleven boyfriends too. And there were CRABS, for chrissakes. What in the motherhell are we doing here–we better have a Sarsgaard sighting immediately.)

Anyway, we just wanted to let you know–did you catch it the first ten times?–that we’re back. Publicists, please check out the About page for our new mailing address. We will post some reviews soon, although every book we have read in the past six months has been so godawful we’d break Speedreader if we tried to address them all. (You know what is awesome though? Us. And Top Chef. And, weirdly, that Rachael Ray! She’s spunky.)

In lieu of actual content, we thought we’d just present a letter we recently received in our inbox, somewhat annotated for, you know, clarification. The letter is from our former landlady, whom we screamed at for deducting from our security deposit a charge to clear a drain that had been clogged OUR ENTIRE TIME IN THE APARTMENT DESPITE NUMEROUS PLEAS FOR SNAKING. (Ooo! Rude, rude.) The backstory: IT WASN’T OUR RAZOR CAP, OKAY?

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