let me at 'em

There are days when I wonder why I can't go out there and beat some people senseless with the mega-über high tech aluminum baseball bat I have at home. This is provided that they deserve it, of course.

Take This One Lady, for instance. She has been harassing us—well, me, because I'm the one who has to put up with her e-mails—on a daily basis as to why her idol, who's already done a hattrick in the previous years, wasn't included in this year's magazine poll. This morning I found five e-mails from her, the last one being in bold letters, as if putting it in bold letters would suddenly make us a wee bit more literate. I find it hilarious in an annoying way how the last one actually sounded threatening.

Like there's going to be some bloodshed.

Woohoo! Finally, some action here at the office! Let's go, lady, I'm bored! Give us something to get all excited about!

If it's already the tenth e-mail and there hasn't been any response, maybe there just might be that one in eleventeen million chance that we're ignoring you.