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Wednesday, June 04, 2003

 

It's a Living Dept.



Today we dip into the mail bag.


Dearest Bunsen,

I haven't heard from you in so long. It's like you just disappeared. Didn't you get the basket of ceramic angels, fancy crackers, and delightful, framed Anne Geddes photos of babies in baskets I sent you? You could have at least sent me a homemade thank-you card to let me know that my henpecked assistant, Miles, delivered it to you promptly.

I hope that blindfolding you and covering you in lingonberry tapenade before licking you clean didn't scare you away. It may have seemed forward following the interview for the profile you were writing for Desultory She-Entrepreneur, but as I recall, you seemed to enjoy it. And I'd spent all day grinding the capers. olives, and Sardinian anchovies in a mortar I'd picked up in an antique kitchenware shop in San Marino, not to mention laying the rice paper over my four-poster feather bed so that we wouldn't get any of the spread on my Malaysian goat-wool, 650-thread count sheets. Yes, you're worth a little mess, but try explaining that to me in the throes of an OCD attack when I'm trying to get protein stains out with a Barbie toothbrush.

If you haven't been following the news lately, I seem to have run afoul of the SEC. By the time you read this, I might already be indicted on totally unfounded charges of insider trading. I know that you don't believe in the stock market and instead prefer to invest your money bankrolling Russian robber barons, but some of us made a lot of money on Wall Street. Why can't the federal government just accept that high-powered friends sometimes talk business over a hot pan of coconut macaroons? And when I buy my stocks, I can't possibly remember which ones I discussed with a good friend who happens to be the ImClone CEO? Don't they have better things to do, like roust my three-hundred Mexican groundskeepers?

I don't expect anything to come of all this even after it's tied up in litigation for years, but if it does, and I wind up in some minimum-security resort with a liberal conjugal visit policy, I do hope you'll visit. Find enclosed the recipe for the lingonberry tapenade and a pastry brush, which should not be hard to smuggle in to wherever I'm staying. I'll still be a relatively young woman and I hear that confinement does magical things to one's libido. Who knows, all of this could be "a good thing."

Best,
Martha




About this site

This is the internet home of Mark Lisanti, a Los Angeles writer sometimes known as Bunsen. He is the founding editor of Defamer, a weblog about Hollywood, where he now serves in the nebulous capacity of "editor-at-large."
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