More from the e-mail pit.

I am not Lynda Mercer. I'm sure she's very nice, but she is not me, and I am not she, and we are not each other.

I get a ton of spam for her, though. I also get a lot of spam with the address 112 Sandy Dr in the subjects. I don't know where this is, as I'm lucky to recall the names of the streets that surround my house, but perhaps Lynda Mercer knows. Perhaps Lynda Mercer lives there.

I never open the spam addressed to Lynda Mercer, as it's not for me. I really hope she hasn't won the British lottery, or maybe a friendly Nigerian is trying to let her know that her relative has died in the terrible crash. These are things she needs to know.

Lourdes Bergamini, on the other hand, really ought to start doing some damn chores around here, considering she lives in my house. No one has ever actually seen her, but her medical bills come to this address, and occasionally a sock goes missing.

I wonder if Lynda Mercer gets spam meant for me....

More from the e-mail pit.

Three random notes.

To Ms. Lourdes Bergamini:

You do not live here, stop telling everyone you do. I am not keeping your mail, as the medical bills are not even an interesting read. I hope the postman knows where to find you when he gets that postcard back.

....

To the dolphins who washed out to sea during Hurricane Katrina, I hope you guys have a plan, because I recently said you were the most brilliant creatures ever. I mean, it's lucky that dolphins are pretty good swimmers, but unluckily, these lived mostly in captivity and just sort of sat there waiting to be rescued. I guess there is good fish to be made in the aquarium circuit.

....

I'm not going to post messages to the New York Radio board anymore unless I know what I'm talking about. First, I freaked out because I forgot Chris Botti wasn't on Fridays, and now I've accused Emmis Communications of taking away my happy station when all they're planning to do is send people on vacations.

Silly, silly me.

Three random notes.