Dear Lupe,
In case you're wondering, this IS your handwriting, and the post date and sender's adress on this thing are real, so get over that and read on.
Yes, I'm you. Well, I used to be you. Anyway, since I'm bored as fuck, I thought I might make a few changes in my life. And since I'm too lazy to do anything about it, I'll let you do it for me. Yeah, yeah, you probably think you're gonna turn into a douchebag when you read this. You're right, I'm a douchebag, now read on.
Anyway, I think I got the date right, so you should be in high school right now. So quit wanking and get over her. Her husband should be getting out of prison next week, since she dropped the rape charges. And yeah, I know she's single when you're reading this, get it?. Hang in there, and don't go to uni to study economics. And speaking of which, try not to drop out of university more than once. The third one we chose sucked balls.
By the way, if you ever meet Kristanna Loken in a nightclub, ask her to sign her autograph on something that doesn't wash away. Biceps are bad, m'kay? Wait, is that right? Biceps is bad? Are bad? I must have smoked ourselves retarded. And, speaking of which, under NO CIRCUMSTANCES WHATSOEVER are you allowed to smoke pot on your 23rd birthday. Or if you somehow do, because you're as stubborn as I remember, don't go to work the next Tuesday. You know how long it took me to find a job after that? Bloody random drug tests...
Oh, yeah. Don't sell the flat mom will find you. Well, maybe if you buy a Delta with it, but make damn sure you don't wreck it. No, wait, scratch that, the taxes for used cars are horrible in 2004. Anyway, moving forward through time. Don't wait till the last day to buy a ticket to The Scorpions, they'll be sold out. Liverpool will win the Champions League in 2005. Lead by 3 at half time, 3-3 final time, they win in the penalty kicks. Bet on that.
No matter how much it sucks, don't commit suicide in 2006 (d'oh). There was a mix up with the AIDS tests. And while we're on the subject, you might want to be more selective of who you pay for this sort of things. Not the tests.... you can get those for free. Come to think of it, you could probably get laid for free, but trust me, I still hate having to act interested for a whole night just for that. Still, a relationship at that point in time might still be a touchy subject.
Not much interesting happens in 2007 and 2008. Just don't go out of the city when Leonard Cohen's on tour. I'm still being mocked for missing it. Don't buy Jericho, and if you're ever within gunshot range of Clive Barker, try not to get caught (well, obviously I'm not sending this from prison, so no, I didn't get a chance, you inquisitive bastard, but I'm probably altering time as I write now). By the way, don't bet a case of Jack Daniels on McCain winning the election.
Winning numbers for the 7th of July 2009 lottery are 7, 15, 19, 30, 37, 44. Weed still won't be legalized. Oh, and if you still have a crush on... wait, you didn't meet her yet... never mind. But then again, you'll probably spend the next 7 years nagging us about who she might be, now that I made a retard of myself and you know about her. Listen up, if you ever meet this gorgeous blonde at a job interview for HP in 2008, make sure you wear your Man U scarf (if anything ever happens to it, I'll mail you a bomb next time) the day before the 2009 Champions League final, and ask her if she wants to see it at your place. They're gonna lose badly but it turns out she takes the game way too seriously and responds well to consolations. Just work your magic, and save yourself a month of groveling.
Anyway, since I have no idea what the postage for time traveling letters is nowadays, I'd rather end now, before they decide to charge me by the letter.
Good luck, and try not to fuck me up worse than I did.
Yours truly, yourself.
