Dear Joel

Dear Joel Smith:

It has been well over a year since AT&T gave me your recycled cell phone number. I think it's time that you man-up, settle your scores and take care of business. I have pleaded with your lovers, both male and female, to believe that I am truly not your new girlfriend, hiding you from them. I have spoken to your bill collectors, asking them to remove my number from their records. I have even spoken to some of your family members, who accused me of stealing your phone.

I cannot help but wonder about what kind of cockamamie scheme you've gotten involved in, which has made you flee the country. I imagine some kind of delicious embezzlement, in which you have finally stuck it to the man and high-tailed it to Belize, where you are now the proud owner of a mansion and a yacht, and of course, changed your name to Elmer J. Fudd.

All this time, I have made such an effort to take your messages, gladly, dutifully. But considering my recent lack of energy, I must tell you to take this job and shove it. It's time for you to show your face. Take responsibility and let me off the hook. Seriously, give your friends your new number. Face your lovers and tell them you've moved on to bigger and better things. Pay your damn bills, or drop off! I'm sick of your shit, Joel!

Finally, call your bank. There has been some "very unusual activity on your credit card"... Oh, and tell your pervy friends to stop sending those pics (Penis plane? Really? Would you seriously laugh at that shit?).

Sincerely,
Jennifer

PS - I honestly hope you haven't been murdered, or kidnapped because that would really make me look like an ass...