Postcards from the Edge

Recently, a friend from back home has taken to sending me postcards. Postcards of cute little Canadian critters: moose, bears, the cutest little chipmunk (its so cute I showed it to the little old lady in the elevator on the way up to my flat). I think it's partly a design to make me homesick, but is also partly because she's twisted. Twisted in a good way. (Is there any other kind of twisted?)

See, on the back of the postcards she writes me a little note - a little snippet of what may be going on in her life - but see she's twisted, so often what she writes has me laughing at the postbox. (You should have seen the snippet that was on the back of the beaver postcard....)

Today was a classic though - and I just have to share (if the author of this snippet is upset with me for posting this, please let me know and I will pull the post down....):

I called "T" on the weekend. She was dressed as a cat and waiting for eight 4 1/2 year olds to come over. I told her I was in my housecoat drinking tea and reading a novel. She told me to screw off. I felt good about my life.

I laughed so hard I cried.