To: Rhys
From: Phil
Date: This Morning
Subject: Me me me!
Dear Rhys,
You probably know that on my site, there is an About page.
And on this About page is a Contact form.
Now traditionally, what happens is that my readers (I like to think, cute lovestruck girls in their early 20s searching for life’s true love) visit this page, jot down their most intimate details (name, e-mail, website), and write me prose with such uninhibited flattery and devotion that if anybody in the same room were to simply read them, I’d be forced to make a hasty exit, mortified beyond words and with the tips of my ears burning.
Reading these comments, dear Rhys, have been a part of my daily regimen of confidence-building exercises. You know, like repeating slogans to yourself in the mirror every morning (“Baby, you’re BEAUTIFUL. You’re GORGEOUS. What a LAD.”), or submitting your best glamour shots to those Hot-or-Not search engines.
But lately, I haven’t gotten any.
You see, lately, it seems what’s happened is that a sizable number of YOUR readers, desperate and desolated at being ignored, have traipsed over to MY site, shooed MY customers away, and filled MY Contact forms with outrageous questions.
Questions like, “Phil, I’m a bit worried about Rhys. Can you let me know she’s alright?”, or “Phil, I heard Rhys was having a hard time. Have you spoken to her?”, or even, “Phil, I miss Rhys. When will she be back? You’re sort of cool too. Okay, not really.”
Okay, I made that last one up, but can you blame me? It’s all there, somewhere; between the lines. Rhys this and Rhys that.
This just won’t do, Rhys. This will simply NOT do.
So here’s the thing. Will you let us know what’s up and that you’re doing okay? Will you return to writing on a semi-regular basis? It’s not that I care, really, it’s more to do with the fact I need my regular dose of esteem-boosting shots. I’m not a man who can live up to the daily rigors of life without them, Rhys, and I can’t go on living with you stealing the spotlight. Bitch.
Yours in sincere(ish) concern,
Phil
P.S. What do YOU have that I don’t, anyways?
P.P.S. It’s the ‘boobs’, isn’t it? God, that’s always the reason.
Stace says,
Your ‘boobs’ are perfectly adequate Phil, don’t let society convince you otherwsie!
Phil’s Proof » Phil to Watchdog: What’s up NYC? says,
[...] as you can probably tell, I’ve been trying to revive some inter-blog discussion. Which is, as you’ve also probably guessed, another way of shoveling my own writing [...]