Pardon me for stealing time away from you to write an open letter to the author of one of my favorite blogs -- WorkForced.
Dear Joe Don Juan:
What is it with you man? You get me hooked on your office humor and then you leave me hanging -- dumped yet again. You haven't posted since November 10th. You had more than 1,000 followers (I think you've lost some because you haven't posted) and you have an obligation to them, to us. I have six followers, including you and I doubt if you ever read me, but I take my obligation to the other five followers and people who sometimes drop in very seriously. The world cares what I think about it, and I can't let down the world.
You got me addicted to your tales of The Riled High Club, Senior Management, and who will ever forget The Jargon Dictionary? Commenting wittily or stupidly on your posts makes my week. Hell, sometimes it makes my entire month.
Jon Don, if you are ill or have a family emergency, then at least mention it on your site. We want to offer you support and lots of sex in your time of crisis, if that's what it is. If you don't have an emergency, then how could you abandon us so easily?
Joe Doe, don't you realize I'm in love with you? You got me all worked up and . . . now, sigh, I don't know what to do.
Jon Bon, I love you more than crack or smack.
Well, maybe not smack.
But I definitely love you more than Vicodin, Percocet, Percodan, Lorazepam, Klonapin, Xanax, and yes, I'll admit it: I love you more than Valium.
I've never said that to anyone before.
Imagine your Lola all dressed up ala Britney Spears in a little Catholic school girl plaid skirt and a white blouse, hair in pig tails, singing Hit Me Baby One More Time.
But don't hit me one more time. Hit me baby every week. I need you. You get me through the night, Joe Don't Blow It. This is supposed to be your road to an early retirement. An early retirement you can spend with a woman better looking than Britney and ten times crazier.
Bring it on Don Joe. Post again. I'm beggin' you please, baby, please, don't hurt me anymore.
Infinities of love,