Happy New Year

Dear Spam folder
Let’s start over in 2009
I’m pretty sure I won’t be needing:
A giant dick, any kind of pills, any more degrees or a flat tummy
Jesus Christ, it’s just as well my self-esteem cup runneth over:
I don’t want a cock, I don’t need pills, my education may be patchy but it’s sound
and where the hell do you get off telling me my tummy should be flatter?
I’d like free money and something tasteful in glass next year, thanks.

Dear Search Terms
What the hell is it with the amputations?
One mention of an amputated cock, and that’s all you’re known for
(And I never said I HAD one)
fuck toy/long naked legs/kissme with your naked body in my bad bo/dh lawrence when-we-fuck/sexyslut/naked women long legs/mens fur lined boots/beautiful naked women with long legs/pussy power/sweet depraved nude girls/soft velvet skin and fucked in the ass/the power of pussy poems
Men’s fur lined boots??
What the hell were you thinking, Search Terms?
Let’s keep it clean, please, next year
and strictly literature-based

Dear Horoscope
Fuck off.
I’ve been challenged out of my tiny mind
I’m seasick with the choppy seas
Give me a break and move those planets around
I’d like a prosperous and high-achieving year
just for a fucking change.

Dear internet
Get a grip. Seriously.
I’d like to be able to say something every so often
One more chance, and then I’m so going to upgrade your ass.

Dear Preemptive Headache
I haven’t even had a drink yet!
Yes I know where the aspirin is!
Yes I have water beside my bed!
Please let me just get a chance to enjoy myself
Before you start barging in
(Oh, and yes, I’ll be sorry in the morning).