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From: pbeesly@dundermifflin.com
To: jhalpert@dundermifflin.com
Subject: Angry Letters
Jim,
I tried smoking for the first time this weekend. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this. Not that I am, because I'm never going to send this email. Or these emails--I expect this is only the first in a series. But I'm not sure why I'm writing it down. Is it possibly therapeutic? It feels therapeutic. Let's go with that.
It was a pretty stupid idea. The smoking I mean, not the writing angry letters without sending them (well, the modern-day equivalent thereof). I almost puked, so I decided to get wasted instead. And then I actually puked. Fancy new Beesly is nothing if not attractive.
You know how Georgia O'Keeffe made a habit of painting flowers that suspiciously resembled vaginas? Maybe you didn't. Now you do. My point is, I sketched while I was drinking. I never tried that before. And they're unequivocally the best drawings I've ever done. Egotistical? Maybe. But that's at least as much on the model as the artist. And you really have the most beautiful hands. The most beautiful everything. I guess that's why I started drawing you. And why I haven't been able to stop.
Not that my drawings have anything to do with flowers or vaginas. It's just that I have this compulsion to draw the same thing over and over again. Not thing… person. You know what I mean. Not that you'll ever see them.
I wonder if Karen smokes? Probably not. I'm pretty sure you'd never date a smoker. I knew you wouldn't approve. That's kind of why I wanted to try it. Maybe if I make myself sufficiently undesirable, I can stop wondering why you don't want me anymore. I can't smoke though, it just hurts too much. It'd be easier to shovel down a bunch of Chunky Monkey and gain fifty pounds. Hey, there's an idea.
I don't know what to think anymore. About you. About me. Much less us. There is no us. Not anymore, at least not outside of my own head.
This letter wasn't particularly angry. Angry at me, maybe. Not so much at you. I don't know, I think I can do better. Guess I'll try harder in my next one?
Pam
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From: pbeesly@dundermifflin.com
To: jhalpert@dundermifflin.com
Subject: The metric system
Jim,
According to Google, you sit just over 15 decimeters away from me. That's more than the number of words we've exchanged in the past week.
Huh. I wonder why America never got on board with the metric system.
Pam
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From: pbeesly@dundermifflin.com
To: jhalpert@dundermifflin.com
Subject: Blowing my brains out
Hi Jim,
Remember when I said if you left this job, I would blow my brains out? Well, you left. I didn't blow my brains out. Not that I wasn't tempted.
I hate this job. Why am I still here? It's been 6 years and I'm still the receptionist. I'll always be the receptionist. You've ALWAYS been the receptionist, Mr. Torrance.
Maybe you're surprised that I've actually seen The Shining. It's an American classic, Jim.
Pam
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From: pbeesly@dundermifflin.com
To: jhalpert@dundermifflin.com
Subject: Furniture
Hey Jim,
I feel like a piece of furniture when you're around.
Really, it's no less than I deserve. I know that I blew it with you and I'll never be more sorry about anything in my life.
Not even a useful piece of furniture. More like one of those awkward triangular tables that sticks out from the wall and trips everyone that walks by. With a wobbly leg. That you finally throw away because you can't stand to look at it for one more second.
I'm certifiable! Also sorry.
Pam
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From: pbeesly@dundermifflin.com
To: jhalpert@dundermifflin.com
Subject: TWSS
Oh. My. God. Jim!
Michael just tried this pick-up line on Jan: "If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
That's what she said!
Hmm. I guess it doesn't really work in EVERY situation.
Pam
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From: pbeesly@dundermifflin.com
To: jhalpert@dundermifflin.com
Subject: Drawing you
Hi Jim,
Apropos of nothing, you're really cute. Handsome. Gorgeous. I drew you again this weekend. Just like the weekend before that, and every weekend for the past… 9 weekends. I had to look at a calendar to figure that out.
It's not like I'm running out of inspiration or anything. It's just that I would have a lot more to work with if I could see you naked.
Pam
