That's right! It's time to open up the mailbag and reply to another message sent to my Match.com account from Russian scam artists. Oooh, I can hear them salivating over their keyboards waiting for me to wire them money in a desperate bid to win the love of my star crossed paramour. But the joke's on you, flutternuts. I'm onto your scam, whatever it may be, and will get my revenge in the best way possible, a scathing, bitchy public response! That's much better than tracking you down, and beating the loosened stools out of you. Or at least it's less expensive and time-consuming. There are only so many hours in the day, and these jittery VHS tapes of Hardcastle and McCormick aren't going to watch themselves.

HI!!!
My name is Natalya. I for the first time get acquainted on sites of acquaintences.

HEY!!! Nice to make your acquaintance, Natalya. Thank you so much for taking the time to acquaint myself with your acquaintance on aforementioned site of acquaintances. And may I say, that is a lovely way to describe this dating site. I think Match.com would actually make more money if they changed their name to SiteOfAcquaintances.com. It makes it clear that it is a site, specifically a website, and that it is a place where acquaintances are made. Not just one acquaintance, but multiple acquaintances. As an added bonus, there's a snazzy ring to it reminiscent of Wheel of Fortune or House of Pain. Jump around!

I have seen your profile and my heart knock. You seem to me very interesting.

My goodness, Natalya! You risk making this bashful, cornfed son of a farmer blush. But really your heart should ring the doorbell next time. It's hard for me to hear a knock when I'm on the other side of the house rubbing one out or doing laundry in the basement (or rubbing one out into the laundry in the basement). Do I still seem to you very interesting? I sure hope so. You seem to me very interesting, too! I'll bet you seem to a lot of people very interesting.

I would like to find out you better and to receive more than your photos.

Damn, girl! You just cut through the bullshit, don't you. You're so coy. You'd like to receive more than my photos, huh? Yeaahh... I've got something more than my photos for you right here. *pulls out a daffodil*

I badly understand on the Internet but if you will write to me on my e-mail: [shady email address removed], I with pleasure shall answer you.

I'm confused. So you badly understand on the internet, but want me to email you on the internet. Why not give me your phone or fax number so you can understand me less badly? Or better yet, give you your snail mail address so I can send you this daffodil, a couple of loaves of bread, and a half jar of mayo? Who cares, I'm just waiting for that pleasure you were talking about. *runs his tongue over his upper lip*

How you are named by friends? Mum? How you would like, that I named you?

Are you making fun of me? Do my friends call me mum????? What am I some snaggletoothed British matron in sensible shoes and frilly lace? Or a nanny that travels the country in a Mini Cooper introducing discipline into redneck families who eat nothing but canned spaghetti and cotton candy off of asphalt shingles? You can shove your snide, condescending bitchlip into your babushka and breathe Vidal Sassoon fumes, sister!

I hope that I shall receive your letter soon and our acquaintance will bring smiles and happiness to our hearts.
Natalya.

Too late for sunshine and smiles, Natalya. You broke my heart. Hit the bricks, chunnelsnatch.

Broken,

Jeremy