Dear notebook thing,
How you doin’? I’m doing okay, kind of hungry. Chandler said I can’t have food until I talk to you about my “feelings” or something, though. (Don’t tell anyone but I didn’t realize he meant writing stuff at first and I talked to this piece of paper for like an hour. This stays between you, me, and Hugsy.)
So, as you probably know, I’m an actor. I mean, I haven’t been in anything really big so far but I’m working on it. You might have seen me in that Al Pacino movie. You know, with the shower scene? That was me. Well, it was kind of me. I was his butt. Or, my butt was his butt. Yeah, yeah, go ahead, crack your jokes. Been there, heard that. But I think I could be big. I just need to find a director to put my moves on and I’m in!
My family thinks I can’t do anything, you know? None of them think I can make it in the acting business. They all want me to be a pipefitter because everyone in the family was a pipefitter but that sounds so lame. I don’t want to fit things into pipes all day. What if I find something that is too big? Or, what if I get my hand stuck and they have to chop it off? I need my hand! If I only had one hand, I couldn’t make sandwiches or open mayo jars or beers by myself or play foosball. You might as well just cut off all my limbs because my life would be ruined.
I want to be a really professional actor though, right up there with Tom Hanks and that Italian mafia guy that everybody likes or that girl in that pizza commercial. I’m not saying I want to be a girl (I do want to be with girls though, if you know what I mean). I’m saying I want to be famous and on TV. I want to prove that I don’t have to be a pipist or a pipe cleaner or whatever it was. I can be Joey Tribbiani, lover of women, eater of sandwiches, and greatest actor of all time.
It’s just hard sometimes because the little gigs I get make me no money! My roommate Chandler is pretty cool about it. (But you know Chandler. Because you’re me, just in the future. Hi future Joey! If you’re reading this, can you send me some sort of sign to tell me if I get famous? And also, did that Jesus guy come back yet? Will they ever name a sandwich after me? Have they brought dinosaurs back to life? Does Ross know? Was Ross the one who brought them back to life?? Oh, oh, oh, did Ross get any more divorces? Or, wait, can you not tell me because I might mess up the future? That’s fine too.) Chandler’s got some fancy office job where he wears a suit and yells numbers into a phone all day but I guess he makes a lot of money doing it. Ross and Monica make a lot of money too. I don’t know how they do it. Especially Monica. She works with food all day and never eats any of it. Just thinking about it makes me hungry. I should make some lasagna. NO. Focus, Joey, focus.
Oh right, my “feelings.” Well, I was hanging out with this really pretty girl last night named… Really Pretty Girl. After we had, well, you know, she asked when I was free to meet her parents. I started to freak out, you know, because I had only known this girl for like a half an hour. So I was like, “Maybe…sometime…eventually,” and she just kept on asking so finally I told her I’d meet them on Tuesday. But then I thought Tuesday was Monday and Monday, I had a gig so I never showed up and when I came home, she had ripped up all of Chandler’s clothes thinking they were mine! (We had fooled around in Chandler’s room because my bed wasn’t made and I wanted to make a good impression but then she thought Chandler’s stuff was my stuff!) Now Chandler’s all mad at me and he made me write this letter thing because he thinks it will help me work through my relationship problems. I don’t have a relationship problem. If I don’t do relationships, how can it be a problem? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
Man, are you hungry? I’m hungry. No, you can’t be hungry. You’re paper. You don’t even have a mouth. Maybe Chandler will unlock the fridge now. I have to eat before I leave for my gig. Estelle got me an audition for that show Days of Our Lives. You know, that Shampoo Opera. Or was it Soap Opera? Bath Opera? No, Shampoo sounds right.
– You (Joey Tribbiani)
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