I know I can’t give you what you want, Kate, but we could still have a really, really, really good time. I mean, the record company, they own a place in Baha. BAHA, babe! Think about it.

Well, anyway. That’s it. Peace out, and don’t let the man keep you down.

Dale


To: Dale Carter <imnotmakinganymoresandwiches@freemail.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Re: You

Touchstone, not lodestone. Baja, not Baha. And you can’t spend bling. Bling is what you spend moneyon .

Dale, trust me on this. I have come to the conclusion that I am just not cut out to be a rock musician’s girlfriend. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be instead. But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t involve going to Baja. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. The sooner you accept that and move on, the happier you’ll be, Dale.

Love,

Kate


To: Devon Hildenbrandt <devonhildenbrandt@hildenbrandtindustries.com>

Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Re: The earrings

Devon, you’re a goddess. Thanks so much for the loan of your sapphires for last night. They looked perfect with my Barney’s shell.

Sorry I missed you at the soiree, but the place was packed. Did you see who WAS there, though? The supermodel Vivica! Although I thought she looked a little bit fat in that dress, didn’t you?

Anyway, I had a blast . . . except for the fact that I caught a glimpse of one of my employees there . . . one I’ve been having particular problems with lately. She’s apparently all cozied up with Dolly Vargas, the style editor. You know, it can be a little aggravating . . . I’ve worked at theJournal for almost five years, and I’ve never been asked out for so much as a cup of coffee with any of the editors, let alone anyone else on the staff. Well, I guess it just goes to show, you can pick your friends, but not your coworkers. Still, it’s a little irksome. She’s only been working for me for less than a year, but already she knows more people than I do.

But whatever. Like I was saying, thanks for the loan of the earrings. Fair warning: I’m going to be asking for a similar pair from Stuart for our first anniversary. They should go great with the sapphire cocktail ring I’ll be expecting after the birth of Stuart Jr., LOL!

I’ll see you at next week’s cocktail hour—it’s at Pop downtown, right? I’ll get your sapphires back to you then.

Kisses,

Amy

Amy Denise Jenkins

Director

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com

This e-mail is intended only for the use of the individual to which it is addressed and may contain information that is privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that you have received this transmission in error; any review, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this transmission is prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify us immediately by reply e-mail and delete this message and all of its attachments.


To: Stacy Trent <IH8BARNEY@freemail.com>

Fr: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>

Re: Clarissa

What Clarissa and I did or did not do in that pool house is none of your concern. I went to the opening the other night because her current flame—some investment banker—is out of town, and she asked me to go with her, and as Michigan wasn’t playing, I thought, why not? I like art as much as the next guy.

So tell Mom not to get her hopes up. There’s not going to be any double wedding for me and Stuart.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a week’s worth of Travel Channel to catch up with.

The Fucker


To: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Dress Code

Kate, as I’m sure you’re aware, we at theJournaldo try to maintain a professional demeanor.

That said, I don’t feel that the skirt you’re wearing this morning is quite an appropriate length for the office. Please see that it is taken out of the weekly rotation from this day forward.

Amy

Amy Denise Jenkins

Director

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com

This e-mail is intended only for the use of the individual to which it is addressed and may contain information that is privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that you have received this transmission in error; any review, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this transmission is prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify us immediately by reply e-mail and delete this message and all of its attachments.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

The T.O.D. says my skirt is not appropriate officewear!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

NO!!! What is wrong with that skirt? I’ll admit, it’s a bit on the short side, but I think you look adorable! The T.O.D. is just jealous because she doesn’t have the guts—or the imagination—to wear anything shorter than knee length.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Either that or she just straight-out hates me. Dolly loaned this skirt to me. It’s Dolce and Gabbana! Suede!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I know how you are about suede. And joy of joys, no one has peed on that one. Unless Skiboy . . . No, that is going too far. Any particular reason you are clad in Dolly-wear today? Or did she stop you at the door and force it on you?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Well, I AM having lunch with Mitch Hertzog. But it is a BUSINESS lunch.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I have bad news for you. That isn’t a very businessy skirt. Are you sure Dolly got the part about its being a business lunch?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I explained to her that Mitch and I are meeting to discuss taking out a restraining order against Dale—

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Oh. Well, in that case, it all makes sense. That looks like a restraining-order skirt if I ever saw one. But back to this lunch. When did this happen?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Oh. When I saw him Saturday night at the opening.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Describe.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Nothing to describe. He was there with a girl. A very pretty girl. She looked like a praying mantis. And she’s a Doyle, as in Hertzog Webber and Doyle.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Oh. Still, he’s having lunch with you, not her.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

A BUSINESS lunch.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Ergo, that ultra-businessy skirt.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

SHUT UP! Is it really that slutty? Will you trade skirts with me?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Are you kidding me? Then I’ll have to take a restraining order out against Rob the copy guy. Hey, did you get a load of the T.O.D.’s earrings?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Yes. They are blinding me. A gift from Stuart, perhaps?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

You know it. I can’t believe he’s giving her that kind of stuff, and they aren’t even married yet. It’s not even her birthday! You know the last present Craig gave me? A scale. Nice, huh?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Hey, the last present Dale gave me was a drumstick. He said it was Flea’s. But I’m not so sure.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

How was the apartment hunting?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Well, if I had ten grand in my savings account for first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit, I’d be golden. But since I don’t, I guess it’s just going to have to be me, Dolly, Peter, and Skiboy. At least until I get my tax refund—and the lease runs out on my place with Dale, and I get my half of the deposit back. And I’m able to hock one pair of peed-on suede boots and my very valuable collected works of the Bangles.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Ouch. You know there’s always room at Chez Sadler.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Thanks. You’re the best. I—Uh-oh, phone call. More later.



To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>

Re: My mother

I thought mothers were supposed to be sweet and supportive, and love you unconditionally. In fact, I distinctly remember Professor Wingblade telling us that mothers are the ONLY people who can be counted on for unconditional love.

So how come MY mother, instead of feeling badly for me that my boyfriend refuses to commit, is yelling at ME for putting too much pressure on him? I swear to God, my own mother likes my ex more than she likes me.

Kate


To: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Your mother

That’s just because she hasn’t seen you in that skirt yet.

No, seriously, your mother is currently driving across the country in an RV with a man ten years her junior who likes to whittle bird whistles. Okay? Like you’re really going to score points with this woman for breaking up with your soon-to-be-rock-star boyfriend. Did she tell you that you should have just let yourself get “accidentally pregnant” and then you’d have been set for life? Ten to one she did. Is this the sign of a woman playing with a full deck?