I'm going down down down down down down down to Pussytown

[Disclaimer: If you are any member of my family, you may not want to read this post as it contains what you would consider to be pornographic images. Unless, of course, you're my brother, in which case you're going to want to see this. Heh.]

Are they gone yet? Good.

I'm going to share with you a letter I received earlier this week. Well, it's not exactly a letter per se, but it was in an envelope in my office mailbox.

I grabbed a thick envelope with my name scrawled across it out of my box. Normally I don't receive letters at work, and things that people place in my box are usually in manila envelopes. Not this one. It was just in a regular old white envelope. And did I mention it was thick?

I opened it, and inside was a sheet of paper all folded up with something inside it. It looked like one of those notes you'd get in third grade. You know the kind:



It took quite the effort to open the paper as whoever had given it to me had it all taped shut. Nevertheless, I prevailed, and unfolded the note. What was wrapped up inside it? Why nothing other than about thirty-five advertisements for strippers and escorts (aka, those cards they hand out on the Las Vegas Strip) of course!

I've picked the "tame" ones to show you here (believe me, some of them were a lot more risqué).








The note itself just said:


I have no idea who collected all those cards and wrote the note. It's not exactly the sort of thing you'd expect to be delivered at the office. But, I think it's time I went and gave "Honey" a call.