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THE DAILY SCOOP
Monday, February 14, 2005

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My [you're not very] Funny Valentine
What do you think it means when the first eMail you get on Valentine's Day is a publisher's rejection letter?

I'll tell you what it means. It means anyone can be alone today. That shit is easy. I like to take rejection to new heights. I mean, anyone can get a "fuck you" from the opposite sex; try adding, "and the horse you rode in on" from a much-loved magazine.

My motto is, "go big or go home." I don't do anything half-assed. Except writing, apparently!!!!

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For those of you (in NYC) who like to rock:

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I SWEAR TO GOD THIS IS
THE LAST OF THE HAIKUS

The kid don't look at
all like mine! Maury Povich,
D.N.A. test me!

It was fun to meet
your parents. But I think I'll
turn down the three way.

Your lesbian t-
shirt was an ironic thing
for me to come on.

Your childhood bible:
also an ironic thing
for me to come on.

Your moans of passion
sound like an audio book
read by Dennis Franz.

You kiss like a dead
fish. But you are quite refined
at analingus.

I don't know where that
hot girl that works the drive-thru
ends and I begin.

Your outlaw fingers
stole my heart --and all that stuff
from Radio Shack.

Your classical cheek
bones are a blast from the past
--so are your pube lice.

Valentine's day makes
me want to work harder at
love. But first: strippers.

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