Buy some sweats ok? Ok.

Hey Hot Shot,

You've got a cold firearm and a ice cool stare. Sometimes I wonder if it's glaucoma or some other medical condition, and then I just remember that it's your disaffected look in the catalog. I wasn't going to order another pair of sweatpants, but that's the power of effective marketing. I pulled out my wallet and went straight to my computer -- the very one I'm typing this note on right now.

Of all my impulse purchases, I can feel in my heart that this is the most fulfilling one to date. I have not even received the navy blue ComphortWearever sweats with the ripcord for tightening, or as the ad reads "snuggening," which I know is not really a word but I was already sold.

I don't usually write these sorts of letters, and I guess that makes me that kind of person now. But you know what? My life already has begun to change in a variety of ways that I never thought possible.

For example, I became a little taller. Maybe it's because I leave the cave of a house I call my home on a regular, almost daily basis now. My posture has straightened out and it's as if my legs are carrying an Ionic column. You know what's on top? The priceless brain of a Ming Vase. Though my brain really hasn't been past down for generations, nor does it belong to a dynasty of import. That's what I shall do with my sweatpants.

To cut to the meat of the matter, I guess I should just come right out and say it: will you, after I pass, please look after these sweat pants? I know we won't have children together -- I'm not a deluded fan -- but these navy sweats match our respective eye colors to the hue. Please consider it deep in your heart before issuing off a knee jerk response letter.

I know how this looks.

Think of future generations,
Larry "Simon Diamond fan #49" Pezzle