 By Nathan Jordan |
Dear Sandra, Let me just start off by saying that I think you’re a national treasure. I’d love to see your face on Mt. Rushmore instead of those crusty old guys, whoever they are. Imagine if Rushmore was just four different, giant versions of your face, one look from each of your best movies; While You Were Sleeping, Speed, Miss Congeniality, and of course, your tour de force, A Time to Kill. But I’m getting off track here. |
I’ve noticed that lately you’ve been having some problems in love department. I never liked Jesse James. First of all, he shares a moniker with one of the most notorious outlaws in United States history. That should be the first sign that he’s up to no good. The second sign might be that he’s sleeping with all of those other women. I never quite understood your attraction to him in the first place, but I once loved a girl whose ex-boyfriend drove a scooter, so maybe we’re kindred spirits.
And that’s what I’m writing you about, Sandra. I’m offering you a great opportunity for happiness and love. Me. Here’s a picture:
Smokin’ hot, right?
I guess I should tell you a little bit about myself. I deliver food for a living in Los Angeles. I’m an independent contractor which is pretty awesome because I can make my own schedule as long as I work at least one weekend night. I also have some food bags, so if you suddenly get a craving for something, I can go pick it up for you and keep it warm all the way back to your home in the Hollywood Hills (if that’s where you live). Of course, if your request is out of my delivery zone, then I have to charge you an extra $2.50. Kidding!
I have hobbies, like watching movies and working. I had a hamster, but he died. Basically, what you see is what you get. Oh, yeah, and I’m into classic cars. I’m sort of a gear-head when it comes to my 2001 Daewoo Lanos. I hope that isn’t a warning sign for you since your soon-to-be-ex husband was also interested in motor vehicles.
But most importantly, I’m loving, caring, and loyal. I’ve only had one girlfriend, but she died. Or at least we think she died. They never found the body, just some fake note saying she had run off to Vegas with some guy. The authorities are convinced the note was written in her handwriting, but I know my Rebecca would never do something like that. She’s probably just dead.
The bottom line is that I would never cheat on you. I’m not attracted to Nazi strippers. In fact, they scare me. All strippers scare me. I get clammy. So if you want a real man, Sandy, e-mail me, and let’s get together for dinner at Daphne’s Greek Restaurant, my treat. I know you won’t regret it!
Love always,
Nathan
If you’re Sandra Bullock, you can contact Nathan at www.whitesocksblackshoes.com and become a fan on Facebook.
