My Mail Sucks. End of Story.

I’ve been trying to send out mail for the past few days. I’m not the best ‘caller-backer’ and my friend, ‘Cita has dubbed me the ‘worst person in the whole world to get a hold of and I never, ever call back’.
In fact, if I say, “I’ll call you back.” You can actually hear her snort all the way into other galaxies.

I try to be fairly good with emails though. I do. Honestly. Sometimes I don’t respond on my blog, but I will send private messages to people thanking them for the kind words or screeching at them for calling me a variety of obnoxious names.
Yes, I have resorted to responding to hate mail. I always said I wouldn’t do it, but damn it…if I can’t beat my children then I am going to have to take it out on someone.

So, sitting in my inbox:

Sharkey: Why can’t you favorite my pictures on Flickr?
Odd Mix: I live about 2 hours from SF, but would love to meet you.
Shaun: Guess what? I think it’s time to seriously looking into a padded room for me. I’m not doing good. I’m not doing so good that I can’t even feel how bad I am doing. That is pretty bad.
Dr. Lousy: I will be there Friday with bells on. Trust me, we have some things to work out and the topic of IBS is not going to be one. I have gone from anxiety and panic to straight paranoia. I’m pretty certain that my windshield is going to crack wide open and I’m going to be covered in shattered glass (thanks Kath for that little bit of paranoia.), I’m going to be pulled over for my tags being expired. OH, and the bank is going to come repo my house. If you tell me to pay my bills I am going to shove both of my hands down your throat and rip out everything I can grip onto…because YOU STATE THE OBVIOUS TOO OFTEN! DUH.

Okay, so that is about all the emails I have waiting to be sent out that for some evil reason they are not going out.

Can you tell I have reached a whole new level of crazy?