Guys, it’s with a heavy heart that I report that this will be the final edition of the Nanny Square saga. It’s with an even heavier heart that I report that I (and my wise-assery) have been defeated, fair and nanny square, by Ben Cury.
Here’s what I got, a day after sending my last email:
It ok .. the number you send to me is incorrect could you pls confrim the phone number and resend it to me so i can give you call asap .
Rather than rambling on about how much “confrim” is my new favorite word, I’ll just show you my reply:
PLS CALL 514.67.3298 URGENT TO DISCUSS NANNY DETAILS.
ALSO, WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BABY? RIGHT NOW CAN ONLY ACCEPT WHITE OR VERY LIGHT BROWN BABIES (ONLY GREEN.HASEL EYES).
I thought– mistakenly, foolishly– that pushing the correspondence into creepy, vaguely racist territory would be hilarious. I kind of thought ol’ Ben Cury would write back with a “Ha ha ha! You got me!” Well, knowing Ben, it would be more like, “HahaHAHAH. U gets me!!” Instead, less than an hour later, I got this:
Dude just won’t quit. And as much as I’d like to give him my phone number and see what he’s all about in person, I don’t think it would be prudent(1). So, reluctantly, I bid farewell to phrases like “i will likes this to be conclude” and “thanks you” and “bcos.” You win this round, Ben Cury. But let me say just one more thing:
I WILL LIKES THIS TO BE CONCLUDE BCOS U ARE TO START BE SCARES ME A LITTLE!! MUST GO NOW URGENT. THANKS YOU.
(1)Actually, that’s not quite true. I would do it, but my girlfriend advised against it. I trust her judgment more than I trust mine(2).
(2)Just about this. It’s not like I’m co-dependent or anything. I do have a mind of my own (3).
(3)Whether or not I actually have underwear or socks of my own(4).
(4)Or pajama pants or opinions about what I should wear(5).
(5)Which would definitely not include scarves made of feathers wool. Apparently, it “ages” me(6).
(6)As does my CD collection. Can I help it if 1998 was a kick-ass year for music? Erykah Badu, Shawn Colvin, Fiona Apple. A golden year, I tell you, the kind of gold that’s spun from unshaven arm pits and reusable, organic cotton menstrual pads(7).
(7)Bonus points to readers who realized as soon as I mentioned my girlfriend that this entry would end with the words “menstrual pads.”