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[edited for length]
from
Ari Gronning
date
Oct 20, 2008 3:34 PM
subject
Just a little update
Hello, all! I just wanted to give you a peek into some of the things that I have been busy with lately, and hopefully some of the things yet to come!
Most recently I have been researching the correlation between Bic pens and the migration patterns of Canadian geese. To be truthful, it is far less exciting than the title would lead you to believe. Basically, as the use of Bic pens increases, the further the migration routes used by geese drift to the east. I suspect that I will find the cause of this once I further research election cycles.
I am also in the planning stages of a prime-time sitcom, “What’s up now?” I don’t have very much at this time, again, only in the planning stages. I allowed myself to ask the daring question, “What happens when a 4th generation florist falls into the world of underground espionage and mixed-martial arts street fighting? Will she wilt, or will we find out that this, Rose, not only has her thorns, but teeth as well?” Just writing about it makes me giddy; I cannot wait to give you the answers! Stay tuned!
So yeah, sorry that I have been out of touch. As you can tell, I have been up to my cute button nose with work and life. I truly hope that you are all doing well, and I would love to hear from you!
Majestically yours,
-Ari Gronning
from
erik erickson
date
Oct 21, 2008 4:12 PM
subject
Re: Just a little update
This is one of the best emails I’ve read in a while…*sob* It’s going to be that much harder to kill you…
from
ari gronning
date
Oct 21, 2008 4:26 PM
subject
Re: Just a little update
Yeah, I was just thinking about that, too. “Doesn’t Erik want to kill me? Or is it *need* to kill me? I can never remember, despite that poorly placed reminder tattooed on my back.”
All of your sobbing reminds me of a particularly wet & rainy day on the eastern seaboard several years ago. I was with my mistress at the time, Helga. A lovely woman of Peruvian descent. She smelled of lilacs in the summer, and barley in the winter, and had a sense of adventure to match. On this particular day, though, she had managed to get her parasol wet. “Leave it,” I exclaimed, “no woman should have to bear the bourdon of a wet parasol,” I explained. It proved to be marvelous day. Remind me, when we see each other next, and I shall produce for you pictures of my Latina flower, Helga. Delight will be yours, I suspect.
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