DEAR SPAMMERRRRZ,
I am, okay, totally not fooled. When you say that my recent post about how I got my nails painted all tangerine color and I like nails because they make me feel like a natural woman was “interesting and informative,” I am immediately on to your shit game, shit Sherlocks. Because nobody likes talking about my nails except 1) my freaking mind and 2) Lauren, my principal manicure friend. Oh, you might try to entice me with comments like, “You write so well–are you a professional journalist?” but I know that no professional journalist would have any truck with sentences as clausey and runny-ondy as mine. Even in admirable brevity such as “MOMS DOGS VIAGRA WHATSS UPP” I find my interest flagging, though I must give you some snaps for concision. Don’t you dare push me to the edge of taking away my comments function because I am still secretly convinced that I will find a kindred person there someday. This is the great unbidden promise of the internet, and I will not have it sullied by you or your fellow big pharma shills, not for nothing, no way. Quit pissing in the stream that runs through my global village, or I will tell Hillary on you, I swear it.
BON3RS,
Sarah
