So, if the email you wanted to send falls into one of these categories, don't bother. Just print this out, circle the appropriate responses, and that'll be that. Really, I do this because I care.
Really I do. I swear.
Dear (INSERT YOUR NAME HERE),
I'm really very sorry that you:
a) think my blog sucks now and I've just been phoning it in lately.
b) hate all unions and feel compelled to tell me why.
c) are this month's victim of the "who's Mr. Movie Star" rumor mill.
I think the best way to deal with this is for you and I to ignore this and get on with our respective lives because:
a) I blame it on bad Feng Shui, and I'm too broke to buy all new furniture and a bunch of those eensy mirrors.
b) Really, you just don't understand what it's like to have your will to live nearly extinguished by a producer - one or two low-budget movies and you'll be screaming for that union card, buddy. Trust me on this one.
c) I think the only way to stop people from gossiping is to kill them - which I'm pretty sure is illegal, but feel free to test that out and get back to me.
The only thing I can possibly think to suggest is to:
a) Have you pay for a decorator - please send me your credit card number ASAP, so I can fix this problem and get back to being interesting.
b) Give your phone number to all those micro-budget producers and tell them you'd just love to work for them - be sure to keep me informed 'cause I want to be there the minute your soul rips in half, even if it happens at 4 am when you're knee-deep in shit on a feedlot in Acton. Especially if it happens at 4 am when you're knee-deep in shit on a feedlot in Acton.
c) You could call the stalker photographers and do something overtly sexual with a member of the same gender while they take your picture. Of course, then you'd have a whole new set of problems, but at least the hint of crew-cooties wouldn't be one of them.
But really, I don't think that's going to solve anything.
b) Up yours,
c) Do you have any cute friends? I'm single,
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