10 March 2006

Your Wife Says You Snore
Like An Oil Refinery
PLUS: Chris Marshall!

Chris Marshall: shown actual size.


First off, ossum email from Marie. I got it this morning. Nice to know that you still sleep on your back, mouth agape, emitting noises not unlike Bessie Smith trying to gargle a walrus. It sounds like you never got that adenoid pruning that you so parsimoniously saved up for all those years.

I have only a short moment to dash this off. I have work today. So much work. This evening I get trounced by the wrestling saddhus. I borrowed a piece of Silly Putty from one of my co-workers, and I'm beginning to believe that it would make the perfect replacement material for my L5 disc. Maybe I can just get Teresa to pry my vetebrae apart with a 12-inch Kitchen Chef and have her jam some of that Silly Putty in there. Might save a lot of money and put the bounce back in my step post-haste.

All that aside, and in the interest of time, let me introduce you to Chris Marshall here and now, the one and only reader to be featured in this letter. Chris and I used to work at Atom together. Now he is the Master and Commander of the design firm Simple Machine. If the copy on their site sounds familiar, it should. I wrote it.

This short anecdote will explain what I know of Chris Marshall. He and I used to work with probably the most repugnant French girl the world has ever known. He happened to mention to her in passing that he lived on Lower Queen Anne. The very next day, she stopped by his desk and completely out of nowhere exploded with derision for his neighborhood. [Insert Clouseau-esque chevre-loads of French accent here:] "I went to Lowair Queen Anne last night. Eet eez a terrible place! Zere eez nothing to do! Zee coffee eez terrible!"

Chris just looked at her blankly and said, "Are you flirting with me?"

Also of note is the fact that Chris drove The Most Raggedy VW Ghia In Existence (as determined by the Adolf Porsche Institute) for at least umpteen years, and only recently divested himself of it in favor of a new-ish Mini Cooper. So why the switch? "As grand as that vehicle was to own," he says, "it lacked a few modern day necessities such as but not limited to: anti-lock brakes, brakes altogether (at one point), heat, defroster, power steering, seat belts that weren't scary, a back seat, airbags, and last but not least - paint."

That's Chris in a nutshell. And now here's the Man Himself to explain things even further. Hit it!

What do they call you back home? Marshall, king of the brave, commander of imagination.

What do you...uh...do? I make pretty pretty pictures, and say no a bunch. Sometimes I wear pants and go to the office.

What would you like to know about Greg? How many angles (sic) can fit on the head of a pin? Do I scare you?HOW BOUT NOW!!! (You scared me at "hello". -Ed.)

What would you like Greg to know about you? I have no birthmark, wisdom teeth, and was born over-developed. At the ripe age of 11, I flew a Mooney M20 from San Diego to Paris. I ran for senate in Manhattan and was later spoofed by Ralph Fiennes in a stupid maid movie. I've edited books "Dinosaurs of the World" and"The Cricketers' Who's Who". I beat people up every day, sometimes twice. I can't find an alarm that works better than my own mind. I'm not afraid to attack at any moment. I was raised by wolves. I kill indiscriminately. (It's true. You should see him go to town with a flyswatter. -Ed.) I once kicked Chuck Norris' ass, so watch yourself!! (To be fair, Chuck Norris' ass was quite old and was on its way to the glue factory anyway. -Ed.) I'm not to be trifled with.

Isn't it ossum on a hot summer night when you put your arm underneath your pillow and it's still all cold under there, like some kinda"coldness magic"? (ossum is as ossum does )

Cheers, and give my best to Marie.


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