The plot is simple enough. It’s like the Real World (the show, not reality), only set in a small town on the Jersey Shore during the summer. The cast is made up of douchey guido twenty-somethings who look like they’d fit in well as extras on The Sopranos if they hadn’t stumbled across Michael Jackson’s missing melanin and injected it into their skin. These kids are brown, like Indians (dots, feathers – take your pick).

I’d love to tell you there’s a plot, but I’d be lying if I did. Sadly, the show revolves around the escapades of this small cross section of the bridge and tunnel crowd as they drink, party, develop skin cancer, and fornicate in the hot tub with one another. Most of the conflicts revolve around varying degrees of “drama” and “disrespect,” which is what you’d expect from a group of young ‘adults’ who were raised thinking Rocky and The Godfather were documentaries on Italian American culture.

In case you didn’t notice, my contempt for this show is palpable. For some reason I was delusional enough to think that MTV had already hit rock bottom. It couldn’t possibly sink any lower than shows like The Hills, or my nemesis, 16 and Pregnant. Of course, I was mistaken. I’d underestimated MTV’s skill at finding the most annoying, spoiled, uneducated douche bags alive and developing a show around them. Fortunately, I’ve learned my lesson. Never again will MTV pull the rug over my eyes. No sir! I am wise to its game. I won’t be surprised when its next reality show comes out, even if it chronicles the drinking, drug use, and rampant sex had by eight newborns living alone in a house in American’s playground, Las Vegas. Go ahead MTV, do your worst.

Your insults hurt more than your stings. You better pray I never dream of you again. Watch your back.

Your enemy,
Stew

Last night was a night of firsts for me. Never before have I been night fishing. I’ve heard of people doing it, but it never occurred to me that it could be so…eventful. I guess night fishing on a pier in the ocean is what people who live on farms do for fun. Which reminds me, don’t you live in Scranton, PA?

I’m not entirely sure why you had me videotape the entire evening but I am glad you did. If you hadn’t insisted I do so, I wouldn’t have any proof that you hooked a real live dolphin. I always thought dolphins liked to hunt their prey and were too smart to be fooled by giant, plastic lures. I guess I was wrong. I must admit, after the initial shock of watching you reel in a large mammal had worn off, I felt somewhat sad for the poor creature. It seemed so helpless as you heaved it through the water, your humble muscles straining to overpower the once docile and strong beast. I apologize for not shooting the dolphin like you asked me to. I am not good with guns and by the time I got the dolphin in my sights, that marine biologist had already swam up and was aiding the poor creature.

I know how much you wanted to land the dolphin, but I am happy the marine biologist intervened and removed the lure from the dolphin’s mouth. You must admit, it was quite a sight seeing the dolphin leap for joy after being set free. I was nearly moved.

In closing, I would like to thank you for a great night. Anytime you want to go out night fishing again, don’t hesitate to call me. I promise, the next time you hook a dolphin I won’t hesitate to shoot it in the head.

Your fishing buddy,
Stew

Unlike “Dwarf seeks Night Elf,” this one actually received some responses. Unfortunately, most of them were e-mails checking to see if the ad was real.

Dear Mickey Rourke,

First let me start off by saying that I don’t particularly appreciate running for my life from a disfigured psychotic goon. What is the matter with you? Don’t you realize I am not your enemy? I had nothing to do with your botched plastic surgery or your being shunned by Hollywood for so long. In fact, I feel I have been quite supportive of your career these past few years. No one plays a scumbag lawyer or kick-ass bounty hunter quite like you – no one. Still, for some reason, you felt the need to chase me all over town and try to kill me. You might have succeeded too, if it were not for that swordfish that jumped out of the fisherman’s net and stabbed you in the stomach. I used to wonder what purpose swordfish served – now I know. They kill Hollywood has-beens dead, or so I thought.

I apologize if I seemed a little shaken when you suddenly appeared at Darren Aronofsky’s dingy office. It’s just that prior to my arrival, I saw you run through by a rogue swordfish and fall back into the ocean where I assume you either drowned or bled to death. Therefore, I was not expecting you to suddenly appear at Darren’s office alive and unharmed. Regardless, it was rude of me to shriek when you made your entrance and for that I apologize once again.

While I am glad you were not actually trying to kill me, I find your story a little hard to believe. How on Earth does pretending to kill me keep you from blowing your cover in the so-called massive sting operation you and Darren are planning? Who exactly are you stinging and what do I have to do with it? I wish I had more time to sit and listen to the details of your plan but as you probably remember, I had to leave in order to wake up. I apologize for my abrupt exit but I can assure you it was absolutely necessary. So now that I am awake, I would very much like to hear more about this sting operation. I believe you have my number because, if I remember correctly, you called me a number of times while I was running for my life. So please, when you find the time, give me a call and fill me in. Until then, take care.

Stew

Dear Jack Bauer,

I’ve never been very good with these things partly because I am not one to reminisce. However, having not seen you for nearly 18 months, I feel the need to catch you up on what’s been going on in my life.

Quite a bit has happened to me since I last saw you. First, and probably most important, I finished grad school. In your 18-month long absence I completed my thesis and received my masters. In addition, I helped a few friends finish up their degree requirements and graduate.

Since graduating, I moved out of the home in which I watched you struggle through two of your toughest days. Prior to moving, I went through three roommates. My original roommate, Jim, whom you met on several occasions, graduated a year before me and moved out. Following his departure, my friend Chris moved in. Shortly before I moved out, Chris moved out and a girl named Susan took his place. I am sure you would have liked both of them. Though they never got to meet you due to your 18-month hiatus, I feel they would have grown to appreciate your brand of entertainment.

During your 18-month absence, I met a girl whom I dated for a while. Things seemed to be going well until she dumped me. I’m still not certain why she decided to end it, but I am pretty certain that she never wants to see or speak to me again. Had you been around, I’m sure you would have consoled me by torturing suspects and/or killing lots of people, but you weren’t there. I understand why you couldn’t be there for me and I don’t blame you for your absence. It was a crazy time for both of us and though I’ve moved on, I just wanted you to know that you were missed.

I realize my writing this letter is a bit overdue since your seventh and, hopefully, most exciting day has already begun. Regardless, I still feel the need to write it, to let you know what has happened in my life. So there you have it. Above is all that has happened to me in the last 18 months. I look forward to seeing what happens to you over the course of your day. Despite your long absence, I have faith that you won’t let me down and your seventh day will be the best yet. Good luck and stay frosty.

Stew

Sadly, no one responded.

Dear friend,

Last night something terrible happened to you in one of my dreams. I’m not sure where we were, but I do remember a rest stop type building with separate bathrooms for men and women. I also remember being surrounded by zombies, two different types. The first type was reminiscent of the classic zombie – grotesque, slow moving, flesh crazed. The second type was unfamiliar to me. They looked like normal people, but were blue and evil-ish.

We did our best to evade them. Unfortunately, when I turned my back on you, two evil blue zombies grabbed you and dragged you into the women’s bathroom. Once inside, they threw you into a stall, closed the door, and did things that made you scream in horror.

I found you just before I woke up. Unfortunately I opened my eyes to the real world before I could see if you’d been turned blue and evil.

This is what happens when I don’t dream about fictional characters and my crazy adventures with them. Real friends die.

I apologize for turning my back on you. I hope you know that in a real zombie situation I would do whatever I could to protect you. I hope you’d do the same for me.

Signed,
Your friend