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I understand that one of my colleagues has petitioned you for changes in her contract, specifically asking for anatomical and career changes.
In addition, it is my understanding that disparaging remarks were made about me, my ability to please, and some of my fashion choices. I would like to take this opportunity to inform you of some issues concerning Ms. Barbie, and some of my own needs and desires.
First of all, I along with several other colleagues feel Barbie DOES NOT deserve preferential treatment-the bitch has EVERYTHING!! I, along with Joe, Jem, Raggedy Ann & Andy, DO NOT have a dream house, Corvette, evening gowns, and in some cases, the ability to change our hairstyle. I personally have 3 outfits which I am forced to mix and match at great length. My decision to accessorise my outfits with an earring was my decision and reflects my lifestyle choice.
I, too, would like a change in my career. Have you considered :"Decorator Ken", "Beauty Salon Ken", or "Out of Work Actor Ken"? In addition, there are several other avenues which could be considered such as:"S&M Ken", "Green Lantern Ken", "Circuit Ken", "Bear Ken", "Master Ken".
These would more accurately reflect my desires and perhaps open new markets. And as for Barbie needing bendable arms so she can"push me away", I need bendable knees so I can kick that bitch to the curb.
Bendable knees would also be helpful for me in other situations-we've talked about this issue before.
In closing, I would like to point out that any further concessions to the blonde bimbo from hell will result in action taken by myself and others.
PS. Barbie can forget about having Joe - he's mine, at least that is what he said last night.
Sincerely,
Ken
It's not mine, I copied and pasted it from an email.
One Christmas Eve, a frenzied young man ran into a pet shop looking for an unusual Christmas gift for his wife. The shop owner suggested a parrot, named Chet, which could sing famous Christmas carols. This seemed like the perfect gift. "How do I get him to sing?" The young man asked, excitedly. "Simply hold a lighted match directly under his feet." was the shop owner's reply.
The shop owner held a lighted match under the parrot's left foot. Chet began to sing: "Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells! ..." The shop owner then held another match under the parrot's right foot. Then Chet's tune changed, and the air was filled with: " Silent Night, Holy Night..."
The young man was so impressed that he paid the shop-keeper and ran home as quickly as he could with Chet under his arm. When the wife saw her gift she was overwhelmed.
"How beautiful!" She exclaimed, "Can he talk?" "No," the young man replied, "But he can sing. Let me show you." So the young man whipped out his lighter and placed it under Chet's left foot, as the shop-keeper had shown him, and Chet crooned: "Jingle Bells! Jingle bells!..." The man then moved the lighter to Chet's right foot, and out came: "Silent Night, Holy night..."
The wife, her face filled with curiosity, then asked, "What if we hold the lighter between his legs?" The man did not know. "Let's try it," he answered, eager to please his wife. So they held the lighter between Chet's legs. Chet twisted his face, cleared his throat, and the little parrot sang out loudly like it was the performance of his life: "Chet's nuts roasting on an open fire...."
No parrots were harmed in the telling of this joke
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