Juniorbird.com

I’m very excited to see that you’ll be in “a movie this spring”:http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0758766/. I remember just a few years ago when I could look forward to a romantic comedy, or fun action flick, with you every summer. Those were good times, weren’t they? Those were the days when our love bloomed again.
Now, I know you didn’t know I was in love with you, but there it is: you’ve had my heart forever. I actually remember falling for you in _ET_; I never cared for that whiny Eliot, but you were a cutie. And the same age as me! It was great. My parents tell me my eyes got all big every time you came on-screen, and I know you were my favorite part of that whole film. Well, you and the flying thing.
When we both turned teenagers, you had a few more troubles than me. Of course, I understand that all of that was just because you’re a big star; I’ve never blamed you for your addictions. Frankly, when I was 14, it was kind of hot to think of a girl who got into so much trouble. Especially since I was such a goody two-shoes. Of course, I rented _Poison Ivy_ about five times, just to see you swing. And rock that red-and-black skirt.
Since you started your comeback, I’ve really loved that you’re not yet another anorexic little cookie. Sure, you were a little skinny for a while, but you look like you’re back in good shape these days. You always had the greatest curves, and you sure showed them off in the Charlie’s Angels movies. Good job.
It was a little crushing when you married Tom Green, not just because he had no talent — heck, I’m pretty talent-free too — but because he was so aggressive about showing off his total lack of talent. I couldn’t put up with him, not even for you, although I sure tried. I couldn’t abandon a woman I’d loved since I was seven, now could I?
The highlight of our relationship for me was probably when we slept together in 2000. Sure, technically you didn’t sleep with me, but I slept with you, and that’s what counts. See, I dated this girl who’d dated that bartender you were married to for about a month, and you know how you say, when you sleep with someone, you’re sleeping with everyone they’ve ever slept with? Well, that brings me on a straight path back to you, Drew, my one and only.
You’re going to be in “another movie in May”:http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0338216/, and I’m excited about that one too. A good chance to see you is an excellent chance to enjoy a movie. For a couple of years, while you were out of sight, I satisfied myself with Eva Mendes as my summer movie crush; I’ll have a bit of overload, what with her having “her own big blockbuster role this summer”:http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0259324/ too. But mostly I wanted to write this to make sure that you knew that, however much I might stare inappropriately at Eva, it’s you I love the most.
And, you know, since you’ve said you wanted to start a family, if you’d like to give me a call, I’m not single but maybe we could do dinner. Because, in my heart, I’m yours.

Thanks for hosting another year’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve last night. I really appreciate you coming out and announcing the events of the evening, with the help of Ryan Seacrest, of course. And I really appreciate all of the execs who convinced you to come on TV again, despite the fact that your stroke gave you a massive speech impediment. And I’d like to thank you for that speech impediment, because imitating it was definitely a great way to get laughs from a very drunk crowd.
Of course, it was really nice to see you on screen, just where I expected you — counting down to the New Year. You’ve been doing that since before I was born and I’ll admit that I kind of dreaded seeing the inevitable replacement for you[1] trying to fill your shoes. Then I heard you speak. Now, who let you out sounding like that? Your smooth baritone, so in control, so above the fray, so enthusiastic — it was gone. Replaced, as it were, by a more cosmopolitan Rocky Balboa.
Sure, you were a lot better than last year, but it was like watching Andre Agassi with no forehand — you can beat me any day, but you probably shouldn’t be out there against the Pete Samprases of this world. Couldn’t you, you know, stick to exhibition matches? Stand next to the Seacrest-bot and do just the countdown?
And which of your advisors and family members thought this was a good idea anyway? It’s not like you need the money. Why should you get out there, tire yourself out, and perform below your own expectations? I mean, apart from in order to give us a chance to mock your new mumble. Like I said, you pointed me toward the laughs.
I’ll admit I’m worried about you, Dick. Are you sure that stroke didn’t really hurt you? I mean, Seacrest? Seriously? It says great that you’re progressive enough to hire somebody with that lifestyle,[2] but couldn’t you pick someone with talent? Or body hair? Don’t you have an agent who’s supposed to look out for those who are trying to exploit you?[3]
After all this time, what you really deserve, Dickie my boy, is to put up your feet and watch the ball drop from home, with a nice glass of Champagne[4] in your hand. That’s much better than being the mealy-mouthed punch line for my jokes, however much I need the other people at my party to believe that I’m funny. Oh, won’t somebody please believe that I’m funny?[5]
Best,
Wade
fn1. Fergie?!
fn2. Specifically, that of an alien sent from across the galaxy to suck out our eyes and open the way for the invasion of the “Brain Slugs”:http://www.gotfuturama.com/Information/Encyc-85-Brain_Slugs/
fn3. Again, Brain Slugs
fn4. Or, perhaps, “wassail”:http://www.catholicculture.org/lit/recipes/view.cfm?id=923
fn5. Not after reading this! — Editor

Thank you for getting divorced by Britney. I really appreciate that now you’ll have more time to spend on that which means the most to me — your music — and also to setting an example for me by bein’ a pimp. You and your bad self and your bad five o’clock shadow are truly inspirations to me.
However, next time you might try not to be an insipration to me by blowing it worse than any guy has ever blown it before. Now, it’s true, others wouldn’t have overlooked Britneys multi-millions, the bling with which she showered you, but you a true pimp, you know you can’t let no woman run your business, even if just spending time with her would keep her under your thumb. You got the moves and the lines — even your old woman, Shar Jackson, “sure seems like she’d take you back”:http://usmagazine.com/node/3637 now that you’re single again. And, hey, rumor has it that you were already offering yourself to other women at your show the very evening you got dumped. Via text message. “On video”:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkq0w6ua_Sg.
Well, it’s Canadian video, so you know, it hardly counts. I’m still with ya big guy.
Speaking of your show, hey dude, I heard “your music”:http://www.kevinfederline.com/ and it is fiiiiine! I don’t know how you put that shiznizzle together but those beats must’ve been off some niiice sample CD, they sound almost like what you hear on video games and TV and stuff like that. Not bad for your first try! And whoever’s doing the singing on your tracks, good job, you can barely tell that you’re on there at all! I mean, it ain’t unique, but, then, who gets ahead by being different? No, it’s all about bein’ just like the CDs they all got in their changers already.
Oh, and that appearance on _The Megan Mulally Show_ last week? Haaarrrrrdcore! Those them beats that make me lose control, yeah boy.
Speaking of hardcore, I like how you went more _Lestat_ than gangsta with the font for your album art. Those curlicues, the split top on the L — it’s almost Beaux-Arts with a pinch of Art Nouveau. You’re like the 1870 Paris[1] of rappers.
I mean, Kevin, seriously, thank you. Like millions of American males, I’ve worried from time to time that I might fail miserably at something in life. But, K-Fed — I mean, Fed-Ex — you’ve done me an inestimable favor: you’ve lowered the bar. Not just taken it down a notch, but put it at about ankle level. Sure, you had your Ferrari that’s worth more than a BMW S-class, and you got to drink Cristal, but you know all that’s going away now, right? You had a recording career that they handed you as a favor to Britney, but you can’t even give away free tickets to the House of Blues, yo. That’s just sad, dude. No matter how bad I screw it up now, I can’t blow it as bad as you did.
And it looks like you ain’t gonna get no alimony, neither. What kind of a pimp gets no money from his woman? “Iceberg Slim”:http://amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/087067935X/ref=nosim/wadearmstrong-20 woulda told you the rookiest of all rookie mistakes is to lead with your dick — you led with your dick and you got Georgied[2]. Heck, you didn’t even get to enjoy Britney’s famous body; sure, you got a couple of months of unprotected sex but she’s been knocked up pretty much continuously since then, so all you got was two years of chubby, trashy, and probably bitchy pregnant Britney. Well done on that one.
Seriously, Kev, thanks, thanks from all of us guys for making us the ones who are successful at relationships, the ones who achieve things in life, the ones who can keep our shit together and manage not to get every girl we date pregnant. Have fun back in Fresno.
Best,
Wade
fn1. By which I mean “Going to “war”:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franco-prussian_war with an enemy inestimably more powerful than you, who will destroy you completely, humiliate you, and cause your inevitable decline to the butt of a thousand jokes concerning how quickly you surrender. Plus kill or maim a generation of your men. On the upside, you do get to “invent margarine”:http://www.trivia-library.com/a/history-and-story-behind-inventions-margarine.htm.”
fn2. “Georgiaed: to be taken advantage of sexually without receiving money” Seriously, that’s what it says in the glossary of “Pimp”:http://amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/087067935X/ref=nosim/wadearmstrong-20. Could it be any more specifically accurate? Heck, I don’t even need to read the book to you — the little inside-the-front-cover teaser says it all: “‘A pimp is the loneliest bastard on Earth. He’s gotta know his whores. He can’t let them know him. He’s gotta be God all the way.’” Dude, if she was buying you the Ferrari… well, I can tell you that you didn’t fit the definition of God in that relationship, which means you ain’t no pimp, and, in the pimpin’ business, there’s only two jobs.

Thank you for providing me with that little shot of adrenalin this morning; it was a rainy, dismal morning, and I was a little groggy. Seeing you speed through the red light, and feeling my car skid just a bit as I slammed on the breaks in the wet street, stopping just feet from you, certainly got me going at peak alertness. I hope that I didn’t disrupt your cell phone conversation too much when I laid on my horn while coming to a complete stop (said action was refreshingly reflexive).
I will freely admit that it was probably better for me than for you that we didn’t get in a wreck, since your big four-door Suburban is much larger than my Lexus. While I’m expressing my gratitude, I do think that I should help you get in contact with the person who prevented me from t-boning you right on the driver’s side door at 35mph; specifically, that nutcase in the white F250 with four feet of metal piping sticking out of the bed.
You see, just a half a block before I entered the intersection which you were, simultaneously, entering, I had to dodge this fine individual in his big truck as he entered Venice from a parking lot and cut across three lanes to get into the left turn lane. Now, we’ve all done this, but this driver executed the maneuver with such élan, in order to get in the back of the rather long line at the turn signal, he actually drove towards oncoming traffic for about 20 feet, then popped a quick u-ey to get in the queue. Naturally, seeing this large, white truck heading straight for me, I slowed, and I kept my speed down since the length of pipe protruding from the end of the truck blocked another 3/4 of a lane. Had I not gotten down to about 20mph from the 35 I was doing, I would assuredly have hit you, or beaten you into the intersection and been t-boned by you.
And, as we can both agree, the value of your unexpected transit of the intersection was really the morning pick-me-up it provided for both of us, in the form of an adrenaline boost. Well, at any rate, you provided that for me; since you just kept going and kept talking on your cell phone, this may have been just a normal, relaxing, every morning activity for you. I guess that would explain the very large vehicle; always better to have Newton on your side.
Best,
Wade

Thank you for televising the Winter Olympics. Being both a typical male — infatuated with sports — and a typical American — jingoistic as all get-out — I rather enjoy the nationalistic, energetic competition of the Olympics. I also love the speed and danger of the many sports that rely on sliding on sharp metal or skinny plastic things for locomotion. It would be wonderful if you could intersperse your human interest stories with some actual sports, you know, like everyone expects from the Olympics.
I’ve been trapped watching Tivo all day long, not because I don’t love Tivo but, rather, because you have spread your programming out across forty-seven different cable networks, none of which show sports at the same time, and because none of these forty-seven cable networks actually show sports for more than two consecutive minutes. I realize that many of your viewers enjoy these stories, and I’ll admit that, from time to time, I find that they add a great deal; but, by and large, I just want to watch people slide down frozen half-pipes at 80 miles per hour sitting on a piece of plastic and metal that keeps them less than an inch off the ground. To the extent that you can give me the maximum possible density of bobsledders, or speedskaters, or even hockey (despite enjoying lacrosse, NASCAR, and Professional Bull Riding, I’ve not developed a taste for the “superfecta”:http://www.answers.com/main/ntquery?s=superfecta&gwp=13 of white people sports), I would prefer to watch wall-to-wall death-defying derring-do. Or, at least, have Dick Button shut up and let people skate.
Ice dancing is, however, right out.
Since you have 47 possible stations from which you can broadcast the Olympics, perhaps you could dedicate just one to full-time sports? I’d be happy to watch anything, even curling (why not laugh at Canadians?). Except ice dancing, but we’ve already covered that.
Thanks,
Wade

Thank you for providing so much entertainment to me this morning with your loud conversation. As I was working in the courtyard, sitting at a table alone, I seriously considered putting on my headphones and listening to some “Charles Mingus”:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Mingus. Fortunately, you came along and spared me the mellow boredom.
I’ll admit that, at first, I was very annoyed that you and your friend sat down directly next to me, in the courtyard of Popovich hall, at 9:30am, and began speaking loudly to each other. I realize that you’re undergrads, but you do have to realize that us grad students do actual work there, rather than just hang out and talk about the rack on that delta delta delta. Then you opened your phone and started talking loudly into it, and I got even angrier; I thought about going over to you and telling you to shut up but then you said the magic words: “Did you get my court records? What do you think about my case?”
That got my hopes up. I was expecting to hear something straight out of Cops (my favorite show of all time, btw), but instead the next line was “do you think I can get out of this traffic ticket?” To say the least, that was a letdown. But your subsequent conversation paid off well enough, I think. Like when you discussed your three simultaneous traffic court cases, how you’d gotten 4 tickets in the last 18 months and were worried about your insurance skyrocketing, how you were hoping you could keep one or two of the tickets in the court system through appeals for long enough that they didn’t all hit your driving record in a one-year period so that your insurance didn’t go through the roof, when you tried to get the lawyer to explain how to game the system by timing your appeals to draw the process out as long as possible, and, of course, how you talked about all of this — complete with docket numbers — at the top of your voice and with your counsel on speakerphone.
Although, dude, I don’t think that your idea that “man this can’t keep happening, I have to get a radar detector” is the solution to your problem. I’m just sayin’.
Next time you have a personal conversation you just have to take care of, I’d like to invite you to sit down next to me, because listening to you is so much better than doing my MOR 569 reading.
Thanks again!
Wade

Thank you for making a wide variety of locks, all with different combinations. It’s too bad that I have so much trouble keeping them straight.
For instance, there’s some lock that I once owned with the combination 3-16-34. I’m pretty sure that I owned that lock in high school. And then 36-16-24, I had that in junior high, followed, the next year, but 24-16-36. Which created some challenges in keeping things straight. 4-14-34 was pretty easy to remember, if only I knew what lock that combination went to. On the other hand, I have a lock next to my desk that I used about a year ago and I haven’t the foggiest what the combination to that is. So it’s all relative, I guess.
Either way, I “can’t operate the lock”:http://juniorbird.com/archive/001811.php, so perhaps it doesn’t matter. But at least the combination keeps changing.
Yours in Safety,
Wade

Thank you for “upgrading my voice mail system”:http://juniorbird.com/archive/001818.php. I very much appreciate that you managed to replace a simple, effective old system with something that is new, annoying, and not nearly as well-suited to the usage patterns of any conceivable user of your services.
It’s actually difficult for me to decide where to start when considering how awful my new voicemail is, you’ve just given me so many different and distinct kinds of crappiness to consider. A few mis-features that particularly stand out are:
* Your persistence in announcing the number of the caller before I listen to their voicemail. This is potentially useful in, say, a large company’s voicemail system, because then I can hear “new message from Joe Argleburtz, in Materials Engineering” — that’s useful. But, statistically, most calls to me will be coming from outside of the Cingular network, so, instead, I’ll just get the phone number. Now, it might be fine if you announced the phone number in a chunked way — 310 555 1212, you know? That’s how people think of phone numbers and have tough of phone numbers since mine changed from “CLeveland 9-5777″:http://www.laalmanac.com/communications/cm01e.htm . Instead, your computer reads a number off as 3105551212, which makes it essentially incomprehensible. It does, however, take up time before I get to the message, and both I and the person who called me would like to get to the message as soon as possible.
* Once I do get to that message, my controls don’t include “delete” or “save”; I need to listen to the entire message before I can do anything to it. I can apparently hit the 3 key repeatedly to skip through the message but this strikes me as a lot of work, when, in most cases, I want to listen to the important beginning of the message and call back (or ignore the caller).
* I suppose it is possible that there is some button that will delete messages while they’re playing, or skip straight to the end, or even a way that I can turn off the phone number announcement. However, there are “two downloadable guides”:http://www.cingular.com/customer_service/common_voice_mail#guide for the system, based on what geographical area you’re in; neither covers California, however, which strikes me as a bit of an oversight.
* The current system only keeps messages 14 days. Which is fine, actually; the old system didn’t keep messages very long either (although I think it may have kept them for 30 days). However, the old system played new messages first, followed by old messages; this one plays old messages first, followed by new messages, when I call in. This strikes me as a rather brain-dead choice, as I’ve already heard that old message and had 14 days in which to do something with it, while the new message is of unknown urgency and could be important. Also, it’s super-annoying since it’s hard to skip messages.
* Password-free access. If I call voicemail from my phone, I get straight into my voicemail. This seems like a substantial security risk, should my phone be lost or stolen. I’ve had a Cingular phone since 1998 and I never noticed that keying in my password was a hassle.
All that said, I do appreciate the system that allows me to check my voicemail from another phone, and I really appreciate that you gave me complete Bluetooth 1.2 on my phone, including full OBEX. Thanks, Cingular!
Best,
Wade

Thanks for taking my trash can from directly in front of my house. It sure was unsightly, especially since it was black and my house is white; the contrast was just awful. Thank goodness it’s gone now! If only I just had some place to put my trash, my kitchen garbage is sure getting full!
Now, “last year when you took my trash can”:http://juniorbird.com/archive/000970.php you took it from in front of my driveway, which I can understand; it sure must be tempting seeing a trash can just sitting out there (although I’m not sure why you chose mine out of all of those out for trash day). This year, however, you actually took the can from in front of my house — ignoring the neighbor’s can sitting out at the end of the alley. I’m not quite sure what made my can more attractive, but, hey, I realize that, if you’re going to do it, you’ve got to get the good stuff. No point in going halfway.
I am still confused as to what the particular attraction of a stolen trash can is. Most houses can get one or two for free; extra ones are just a one-time flat fee. Can you really provide a stolen can for a price much cheaper than a legitimate can? Won’t the trash company realize that there’s an illicit extra can in front of the property?
Or maybe not! Maybe there’s some phone number on some telephone pole somewhere that I’ve missed advertising “cheap trash cans.” Maybe there’s a large, illict market for illicit trash cans in Beverly Hills so that the rich people don’t need to show restraint in throwing out their trash? Is there a unmet demand in South LA, where the trash people won’t go to leave new trash cans off, so they need the stolen cans? I mean, I know it’s not my neighbors, because they have dumpsters — or, maybe, does a hot can make people feel special, like homeowners, or, at least, residents of smaller apartments?
Either way, I called up the DWP and I’m getting a new free can on Monday. But I’ll wonder, every time I look at my new can, where my old one is, and how I can get into this happening stolen trash can market, because I’m a born businessman, yo, and I want in.