From: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Date: 8/13/2003 4:23:36 PM EST
To: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Subj: Shoot Me Now Please
Hi doll, I’ve been in the office for just a 1/2 hour and already I have enough material to write a novel. One of the customer service girls came in to tell me about her “Hotel Weekend” with her boyfriend. She was out of her mind with excitement because their room number was her favorite and his favorite number combined. Now Diana, keep in mind, this is a girl who sends correspondence written with a pen that discharges pink ink and has a fuzzy pink thing with glitter attached to the cap. I once asked her “if she got pregnant and found out the baby didn’t have any arms or legs, if she’d have it aborted.” She actually started crying. I then proceeded to tell her that if it happened to me, I’d give birth, then drown it in the reflection pool at Six Flags. She wiped her eyes and flapped her hand at me saying, “Oh youuuuuuu.” Anyway, it’s about 4:25 here and I have to stick around until at least 5:00. I think I’ll go back in the warehouse and nuzzle a wetback.
From: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Date: 8/13/2003 4:30:02 PM EST
To: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Subj: Re: Shoot Me Now Please.
Interesting, I too enjoy the thrill of drowning crippled children and nuzzling short, brown men. Sounds like your desk job is getting more exciting by the second.
I have some bad news, I just found out my wiener dog has a brain tumor (which, not surprisingly, makes her tiny head quite hot when pet). Don’t feel bad though, a dog having a brain tumor isn’t such a bad thing, they get a lot of extra attention and t-bones. Actually, I’m thinking of developing one myself. Imagine all of the doting and sponge baths…
From: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Date: 8/13/2003 4:48:28 PM EST
To: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Subj: Tumorhead
Developing a brain tumor is definitely the way to go. It would be nice to finally have an excuse for why you drool all the time. If it makes you feel any better, I can totally relate to your current problem. My cat Cecil is 18- years-old, blind, has Alzheimer’s, and keeps peeing on the other cat (and anything else that’s lying around on the dining room table). It’s tough to know what to do, you don’t want to have Kevorkian on speed dial, but you also don’t want to make any hasty decisions. Maybe you should go walk the dog in traffic and let me know if you make any progress.
By the way, the customer service girl just showed me a picture of her sister’s baby; I said it looks like a good lay. Do you think I’ll ever get fired?
From: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Date: 8/14/2003 9:48:16 AM EST
To: ErinZasadil@corpgrop.com
Subj: Re: Tumorhead
If you don’t get fired for that, you could always get drunk and start making out with your boss. If she doesn’t can you immediately, she’ll at least give you a promotion, and that’s something.
About the dog: I would walk her in traffic, if there was any traffic. Out here in the Everglades there’s only slow moving tractors and row boats – and that could be a really pathetic scene. Do you think dogs like strychnine or is that just my relatives? Speaking of walks, I just took the dog out near the alligator pond and I actually considered dressing her in a pork chop vest. Does that make me a bad person?
P.S. Remember your’72 Scamp? That was one righteous car…
From: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Date: 8/14/2003 10:02:48 AM EST
To: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Subj: Getouttadodge
If you go with the whole slow moving tractor idea, pack a lunch, it could take a while. And screw the strychnine, if the ASPCA catches wind of it (or the NAACP for that matter, what color is your dog anyway?) you’ll be up shit creek. I’d go ahead and just split town for a while. When the neighbors call the police because of the unusual smell, you can tell them you felt “he just needed a little time to himself.”
Of course I remember the Scamp! It was an awesome machine, it had 8 cylinders, a concave back window, and the bench seats were great for getting your fuck on. Remember when you flipped down the driver’s side visor it gave you written instructions with illustrations on how to start the car. Man, I wish I still had that car…
It’s really slow in the office today. So far, the only bright part of my day is that I cleaned my ears and now I can hear better. How hard do you think it would be to break my leg? At least then I could make a trip to the emergency room for something to do. I don’t know, maybe I need to get out of town…
From: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Date: 8/14/2003 10:17:32 AM EST
To: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Subj: Re: Getouttadodge
I have a great idea, let’s get the hell outta Dodge and go for a road trip. The wiener dog is starting to hallucinate and walk into walls, which is really too embarrassing to witness sober. I’ll fly up and we can jump in the car and head south or something. And I, for one, am always ready to go to Graceland, no matter what kind of weirdo stuff we come across in Elvis’ medicine cabinet.
What do you say? It’s 9 hours from your place to Memphis, and if we don’t strangle each other with stale licorice rope before we hit Effingham, we could make it in one day. You bring the booze and Band-Aids and I’ll bring the music and some rubber sheeting (just in case we get sloppy drunk and feel the need to paint an old lady’s house). I might just bring a wig.
Knowing us, we’ll probably get to Kankakee, decide it was a bad idea, and head straight back to Chicago for burritos and a milkshake.
Warning: We’re going to be driving straight through grain elevator territory, so bring a butter knife.
From: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Date: 8/14/2003 10:43:08 AM EST
To: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Subj: Thrilled As A Punch Drunk Monkey
Yes my sister! A road trip to Memphis is an excellent idea! And although few things in life are as interesting as grain elevators, we may have to make an adjustment or two. Like if we head towards Champaign, we’ll have to stop and have a picnic lunch on my grandparent’s grave and then leave flowers at the Jerry Van Dyke statue in town square. If we leave my place by 1:00 on Friday, I think we could make it to Memphis by 10:00…perfect for cocktail hour and mugging Crackers. I can’t wait. Is there anything I should be doing other than schvitzing?
P.S. I sure wish I had been invited to one of Elvis’ parties. I think I would have worn a hot pink, suede mini dress that had a gold embroidery hoop in the middle holding the top and bottom together, white go-go boots, and I would have stored my purse in my bee hive. You?
From: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Date: 8/15/2003 11:24:12 AM EST
To: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Subj: Re: Thrilled As A Punch Drunk Monkey
I’m pretty sure I would have just shown up wearing some spangle earrings carrying a banana.
I can’t wait to hit the road too, but I’ve got a lot of questions. Like, should we stop and visit the Marion Penitentiary gift shop? What about snow tires and emergency gum, should we bring them? What’s our hitchhiker policy, are we pro or con? What about our trunk, is it big enough for a whole body or should I bring a hacksaw? I know this is a lot to think about, but I really have been staying up nights worrying about the gum issue.
P.S. Do you ever get unexplainable rashes, and if so, do you do what I do and go at them with a spot welder?
From: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Date: 8/15/2003 11:58:34 AM EST
To: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Subj: Graceland or Bust Goddamit!
As far as your questions are concerned, here are my thoughts:
1. A hacksaw is unnecessary. If we happen to miss lunch, I’ll just
bite their legs off. Leg meat is a great source of protein.
2. Emergency gum is essential. I’ve already packed a sleeve of Juicy Fruit
(wintergreen was on backorder) and a bulk box of those Chiclets tiles. I also have a healthy stockpile of Freshen Up - that green, square gum with the oozy syrup center.
3. Now as far as hitchhikers go, we’ll only pick them up if they’re young and virile and for whatever reason have lost their shirts and pants and are wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and a dab of High Karate.
I don’t know why I’m so excited about going to Graceland. Could it be the neo-colonial shag carpeting or just the refrigerator magnets? Hey, let’s stick a big wad of Juicy Fruit under the elephant foot end table in the Safari room!
Oh, and as far as the rash goes, I get a really horrible one under each boob if the mercury rises above 82. My solution: walk around holding them up so there’s no flesh-on-flesh contact. If I’m going to high mass or something, and this simply isn’t plausible, a nice warm bath and a lot of talcum powder does the trick.
From: DianaLynnGrove@aol.com
Date: 8/16/2003 9:24:12 AM EST
To: ErinZasadil@corpgroup.com
Subj: Re: Graceland or Bust Goddamit!
Sounds great, I’ve already got my plane ticket pinned to my jacket! I think I’ll just leave the wiener dog out back with an umbrella and some ham sandwiches. Hey, what’s more appropriate for meeting the King: a silver pantsuit with tear-away pockets or gingham coveralls? Oh, and consider the boob powder packed.
