“Unless you’re working at the TCBY in Omaha, Nebraska, where the only option for a relationship outside of the workplace is to lay metal spikes across the road in hopes of catching a passing motorist, which I am familiar with, you might want to avoid the office fling altogether.”
Or you could write an internet column and trap me! Are you married? Do you want to be? Because I would definitely enter into that particular suicide-pact with you on the basis of the TCBY line alone.
It’s hard to write a love-letter to an anonymous person who made me laugh loudly at my terrible job. I don’t know anything about you, and you clearly lace your missives with fiction, so I can’t even trust the things that I do know about you. Have you ever really lived in Omaha, Nebraska? At this point, I think I would feel cheated if you hadn’t. If you’d gone to NYU at 18 and had been living in Brooklyn ever since, then you’re just another media creature even if you don’t get paid for your creations.
Whenever I think of Omaha, I think of the farmhouse in In Cold Blood, even though that was in Kansas. I’ve never been to either place, so I figure it’s as good a stand-in as any. It pains me to think of you, Capote-esque, using Omaha as a stand-in for your isolation and depression without “doing the time,” so to speak.
Don’t be quelled by the naysayers on The Hairpin thread who didn’t respond well to your lack of pandering. To some of us, a dude who will tell it plainly is a gift rivaled only by the strange stories he weaves for us to tell us we’re being silly. Sometimes, it’s important that someone point out to you that you’re being silly. Sometimes that’s the best thing someone can do for you. Am I being silly, writing to an internet stranger about an internet column for the insecure and lovelorn?
Are you the blogger Tom Oatmeal? It seems that you are. I found your Facebook page, your favorite movie is Blood Diamond? Is that a joke? That’s ok. And you really do seem to be into state quarters, that’s cool. My friend Chelsea has a story about spending her brother’s collection of state quarters on tacos, you should hear it. Actually, that’s pretty much the story, so if she ever tells you about it, act surprised.
Anyway, if you don’t really have a wife Diane, I think you should totally look me up. We’d get along just fine.