So remember when I wrote about the greatest letter-writer in the history of the world (Nancy W. Kappes, Paralegal) and everyone said she should start her own blog and I was all “Yeah, Nance, why don’t you have a blog?” and she was all “Bitch, I don’t know from ‘BLOG’. That’s totally the noise I make when I’m throwing my guts up” so I resigned myself to just treasuring the bizarre letters she sends me but then when I posted a picture of my inbox people saw that she was still writing me and I got a bunch of people yelling at me for keeping Nancy all to myself. So fine, here’s a small sampler of the letters from Nancy W. Kappes (Paralegal) from the last few weeks. Please stop yelling at me.
Sweetie, you CAN NOT tell me you have motherfucking rheumatoid arthritis!!! NoNoNoNo! Baby, you are too young for that shit, and I know cause my mother got it when she was young and it’s just all fucked up. The prednisone works okay but it so fucks you up with the hair on your goddamned face and will make you look like the fat guy in the “Borat” movie and I am getting snot all over my fucking keyboard because I am crying so hard right now I cannot even see because THIS SHIT IS TOTALLY MOTHERFUCKING FUCKED!
You’re going to get all kinds of whacked-out people telling you to hell, I don’t know, wear a copper bracelet, eat hickory nuts, douche with cat pee, but fuck, JJJJJJJJEEEENN. It’s like, remember when you were pregnant and all these fucking women would like jump out at you and fucking BOO! tell you these monster-motherfucking horror stories about being pregnant, or how to breast feed your kid [duh. when mine would wake up in the night—they slept in a bassinet by my bed, I’d toss ‘em in with me and say, “here you go; one on each side, I’m going the hell back to sleep.”] Here’s what NWK,P would do: remember the poster I had on my wall in high school of Janis Joplin in all her feathered, spangled glory saying, “DON’T TAKE NO SHIT FROM NOBODY; TELL ‘EM ALL TO FUCK OFF.” It has been my life’s motto and ya know what? it’s worked for me all these years.
Totally bringing the flamethrower to Our Lady of the Perpetual Mink,
Nancy W. Kappes
Why is it that nothing bad ever happens to the motherfucking shitheads in this world? I think in my next life, I’m gonna come back as a real ass-hole. I think it’ll be cush. Now I know why they don’t sell automatic weapons on the street. I would be one busy motherfucking bitch.
Nancy W. Kappes
REPRIEVED!! Bene-to-tha-Dick just proclaimed that Plenary Indulgences are back on! Yee-Haw! For the younger Catholics, it’s a practice that is like this totally awesome Get-To-Heaven-Quicker Plan we used to have, sort of like Green Stamps, but instead of toaster ovens, you collect points for saying your prayers—Hells, Yeh, Baby!! I’ll have to dig out Ye Olde Prayer Booke, but it’s something like if you say a Hail Mary, that’s like five years off your Purgatory sentence! Sweet!! You can fucking rock the points all day long and maybe even end up with Extra Credit Points. Goddamn! I am so stoked!! I wonder if it is going to be retroactive—that way, I’ll totally get points for all those prayers I’ve said since 1963. But—FUCK! SHIT! I forgot about inflation. What if now for a Hail Mary you just get like 2 stinking weeks knocked off? That will totally blow. In the meantime, I’m getting two-for-one, cause although I look like I am totally praying for You to get well from that EVlL RA, I’m also rackin’ up mah points, bitches!
Lighting all the BIG votive candles, not the chintzy-ass little ones,
Nancy W. Kappes
Paralegal, Who Please Fer Chrissakes, Don’t Make me File A Pro Hac Vice Motion or Anything that Has to Do With the Courts Because I am Totally Phoning In
Nice photo on your latest post! You realize, of course, that Mariah Carey is going to totally kill you since you have magic rainbows coming out of your tits and because she has a patent on rainbows and unicorns and little woodland creatures getting you dressed in the morning. Christ, I’m lucky if I can find two shoes that match. I got some new meds today that came with the instructions, “If you have an erection lasting longer than four hours, call your doctor.” And what? He comes and gives you a blow job?
Looking Out For Your Welfare,
Whoa! It’s only 10:16pm here and I am totally fucking baked. [This is the time I would usually do the drunk-dialing and phone my brother—1955-1996; a physician who made house calls-as my father did-to people in rural South Carolina with no fucking money, no future, no fucking hope. Yes, he was a saint, but he was cool—he had a fuckin wicked sense of humour and yet when you were around him, you wanted to be a better person. And not in some douche-bag way—he was just fucking awesome. He was the ‘baby’-born right after my father came home from the Korean War where my father was an M.D. in the POW camp—sorta like “MASH” My sister was two when my father left, my mother got knocked up, and I was born. On September 27th. Yeah…do the math – I still have the motherfucking scars on my head from the knitting needle and the first words I remember are “Oh, Jesus Christ, you DID NOT just do that!” Yes, they should have corked more than the champagne bottle. So, whoa! here is a post from NWKP that is all sensitive and shit, but I’ll tell you this: I might not have know how to raise a kid, but I sure as fuck knew how not to.
So, fuck me running, this is prolly not going to make any fucking sense when I re-read it. So I won’t. Suffice to say, I am baked enough to wish that I was 15 years old and could run away from home again.
We gotta do something with this goddamned RA.
I can barely see,
Comment of the day:I think it is totally fucking hilarious that when Nancy is baked at 10:16 PM, her spelling, grammar, and punctuation achieve almost normal status, and she says “fuck” a lot less often. I’m torn about this. I completely approve of 10:16 bakedness (AM OR PM), but she rants way better sober, apparently. Please ask Nancy to drink more, because that’s a good rule in general, but not to let it dull her fucking edge. ~ Lori