Oh, super.

Dear J Waves:

Hello.

We missed you at the Annual Mensa Cookout. As you can see, Darla just would NOT stop dancing in that ubiquitous all-over flower print she’s always rockin’. Hubert wrote you a song and he was really into it. I wanted to videotape it, seeing as though he’s the resident child prodigy and all, but once Seymour put the videocamera down his pants, I really didn’t want to touch it anymore, you know? That’s him back there, retrieving it. And Doris there, in all white, said she missed you most of all, mainly because she got a french manicure in preparation for your arrival because she’s, like, in love with you and all that. She and her shit-stained pinkie had to be carried out at the end of the night after the Connect-Four tournament. I guess that, despite being Earth’s Best Geniuses, our group can only take so much mental stimulation before we go nuts and pound a shit-ton of those silver-topped wine coolers until we lose control.

Maybe next year you can make it? Let me know.

Love,

Mandey

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Filed under batshit morons/why the weird?, j waves

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