January 2010
27 posts
Important Update:
I’m still an asshole. And maybe a little arrogant, too!
__________________________________________________________
From: Jessica Mxxxxxxx Sent: Saturday, January 23, 2010 12:22 PM To: ‘xxxxxxxx@yahoo.com’ Subject: Things I am sorry for today:
Dear Mom,
1. I’m sorry for calling so late last night. When I woke up and saw the time, I didn’t think about the fact that Dad...
Dear San Fransisgoers:
21cp:
Feel free to call Jeff & Jess: 21st Century Penpals to leave a Google Voice message, at (207) 619-2127. You know, in case you get bored. Because a few people you meet are going to be boring, I bet. I mean, they’ll be nice and all, but still … *yawn* And statistically-speaking, at least 27 of the attendees will have bad breath, and/or their armpit sweat will smell like pee-soaked...
Thank You
… for the kindly reviews in iTunes for our podcast, Jeff & Jess: 21st Century Penpals. I’ll be thinking of you all, with a wistful smile on my lips, as I drift away to Slumberland tonight. Wistful. Lips. Wistful lips.
So, about this 21st Century Penpals madness . . .
Ummm, will somebody please review us on iTunes already? I’m starting to wonder if we exist! Haha, but if we didn’t exist, that would be crazy! Right, guys? Guys??
Ep. 3: Is That Gravy In Your Pocket? →
21cp:
Episode 3: Is That Gravy In Your Pocket?
This time the penpals discuss how they “met”, Internet friendships, meeting friendly strangers from online, a dog with a taste for human flesh, and lots more.
Remember: In addition to email and Twitter and this here blog , we now have a Google Voice number you can call.
C’mon, you—whisper some sweet nothings into our ears.
Call 207.619.21CP...
In case there is any doubt . . .
I love the hell out of TJ. He is — quite sincerely — one very, VERY cool dude. He also happens to have an excellent knack for picking spouses, which I think reflects on his character rather nicely.
glueslabs:
21cp:
Here’s a special sneak...
Hey guys --
I want in on the Drunk Tank. Seriously. I’m chock full of ideas. About, like, A LOT of stuff.
I am One of Them.*
A squirrel, two sparrows. A crippled dog. Hit. Grasp, save, grasp, hit, miss. Miss. Miss again. And I see your eyes. Fur, feathers. Blood. And that noise. Tree, fence, sunshine. Miss. Save. Hit. Hit again. And that noise. Sparrow. I’d pick you up from the grass. But there’s nowhere to take you… I am one of them. Sister of mine, don’t worry. Hit, miss, save. Skin, bruises, blood. And I see...
Dear Mr. Leno:
I don’t know who you blew in order to weasel your way back into the 11:35pm time slot, but I wish you could accept that your time came and went. And let’s face it — it was never really your time even when it was your time. For most members of my generation that enjoy late night TV, you were nothing but a placeholder for the funny cool kid in the time slot behind you. We could...
Oh.
I don't understand all of this question-answer...
You’re all a bunch of dirty sorcerers, that’s what you are! I’m telling your villages!
