Secret Sesh

Shit, the horsies got through the damn barn door, again. I thought I locked it tighter last night. Well, I'll be a horsie's ass if I do that again. Aw man, the chickens are fartin' out a butt storm. I shouldn't have done this farm Airbnb.

Ok, I got into a fight with my cat, Zenon, while she was ripping up paper on my desk. My other cat, Philly, walked in at some point. I hit the transcribe button and this is what happened:

stop that. Hey Zenon stop Z put it down you're looking at me like you're gonna do something Zenon. Stop hey hey hey stop hey hey get down hey oh Philly what's up dude's Zenon come here get in the chair and stop ripping shit up come on come on come on sweetie. I love you. ZZBDV come on baby. Good girl no no no stop that. Hey, what's up calendar are you kidding me stop it get on the chair. I love you.

Man, I am fucking bummed. But that doesn't stop the brittle from brattle- you know what I mean? I'm talking soft cats and pretzels of the also soft nature. Can you dig it??? It's been DUG!!!!

Here we are, at the precipice of collapse. All seems lost, but rest assured- there is gold in my ass. I've put sixteen gold bars in various asses around New York City. If you can find the golden ass bar, you can trade it in for a voucher that will give you a code that allows you one (1) vending machine item, every day. That's right, exchange the bar of ass gold and you can get Doritos for free, one time, every day.

I like to think of myself as a pretty smart guy. Like I have taste and culture, and here I am naming an episode of my secret fucking podcast "PeePants: The Story of One Man's Poopy Peepee." I'm 33 years old. I should have a family. Or at least someone's family. Can I have your family? Let's make a deal, here. Come on- let me be your father. I'd be a good dad- or I think the kids would like me. Oh no, I'm becoming my mother.

Dude, sometimes I think I am a real bonehead. Other times, I think I'm a real Sasquatch.

I think you get what I'm saying.

Sometimes you gotta take it back to Bermuda. Where the grass is green, or at least, I think it probably is. I've never been to Bermuda and fuck you for trying to give me guff about it. Why I oughta... honestly, I'm gonna probably look into how to best make an incredibly buttery and heart-stopping pretzel at home. Auntie Anne's style- the big time. There actually used to be a great spot in the Delta terminal at JFK, but that was probably over 10 years ago. My, how the time flies when you're eating pretzels.

I've mistaken multiple ducks for geese, but I've never found a goose be golden*

*That being said, I am colorblind

My grandma’s finger tips! These were the last images I could recall when the morphine drip hit my veins. Let’s make the sausage, boys.

Gloves. Balls. Bats. These are all in my friend's sex dungeon. He is 13 feet tall and doesn't have many allies. But I stand by him, left, right, and center (but not center right).

There will be blood, there will be pie, there will be a lot of fun to be had at my friend's sex dungeon party! Make sure that you come in your Sunday* best! We'll have punch, we'll get drunk, and we'll all make love in my good friend's sex dungeon at his sex dungeon party!

+1s are encouraged, but please don't bring someone you just met this week (Stephen). When the sun takes a dive, we'll all cum (😉) alive! If you need my best friend's address to his sex dungeon for the sex dungeon party, don't be afraid to reach out- you've got my number, or we've matched on Bumble (Stephanie...).

This week is costume optional, but NOT clothing optional. Don't worry, we'll all be nude and lubed by the end, but you MUST show up WEARING clothes. This doesn't mean you've got a backpack with clothes but you're at the door in just your socks (Jeff...). Just so no one takes it like they did last year (Jeffanie...), I'm coming dressed as a toilet paper mummy. If anyone else shows up to the party at my close, personal friend's sex dungeon, I will have a fit!

Alright, that should just about do it! If you've gotten this letter, that means that the mail is still working- fantastic! After the nuclear fallout, I wasn't sure if this letter would find anyone! So, if you're looking for a party at my favorite person's sex dungeon (Ralph, please, for the love of god, send a medical team. We've all been down here for so long and some of us can't hold our bowels anymore (Bart (his farts now smell like electricty)...), and SOME of us are growing a third eye due to radiation poisoning (Bartette (really mean)...).

I hope to see you soon at the sex dungeon party, and honestly, the party is optional. I'd just like to see you here in my father's sex dungeon, where we will hopefully be having a party to celebrate the fact that life still exists (but god DAMN, I am so tired of banging these mutants (PETERINA!!!!!!!!).

Have a Good Summer (HAGS)

Christopher "Bernadette Peters" Robin

*Monday attire is fine if it’s form fitting