The Day the Tinfoil Hats Broke

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Regularly I go to me email only to find the same kind of message: 

“Hello charming American man.  I got your name from dating agency. I’m Tatyana, 29 years old, not married, from Ukraine.  I want mature  husband please. My parents are in the pictures I’ve sent.” The gorgeous pictures she always sends are of Venezuelan model Karla Spice, with some old couple conveniently photoshopped into them. 

 

I politely humor her, throwing her one line of garbage right after the other, as dishonest as the things she tells me.  I promise to call her at the phone number she gives me.  It’s funny how lonely Russian girls always look like famous stunning non~Russian girls, and have Nigerian phone numbers.  

 

 

“Dear Ralph,” her latest message reads.  Here is a picture of my little brother Jascha and me at his twelfth birthday. Isn’t it so silly the way our tinfoil hats are all broken?  Mama and Papa are so angry about it.”

 

 

Some guys have hobbies like contact sports and ballroom dancing.  Me~I enjoy laughing at dishonest strangers who tell boring predictable lies.

 

Welcome back to yet another What’s My Story? for Rory.

4 thoughts on “The Day the Tinfoil Hats Broke

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