That's what friends are for (with apologies to women named Samantha)

Herewith follows a transcript (edited for brevity and names) of today's intercontinental email exchange that made me giggle a great deal (a much needed giggle):

*my rapper/beverage name
*his rapper/mobster name

From: Shelly D*
Hey, be nice to me I'm having a rough day!

On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit* wrote:
Um...now I have nothing to say.
I suppose I can try. You're not bad. I don't mind you. You're kind of alright, I guess.

From: Shelly D:
Well I guess that's alright. You're fairly inoffensive. It doesn't make my eyes bleed to look at you, usually.

On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
I don't often feel sick to the pit of my very soul and being at the mere mention of your name.

From: Shelly D:
Most of the time, simply seeing your name in print doesn't cause me to have violent convulsions.

On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
Some nights I don't wake up screaming when I remember that I know you.

From: Shelly D:
I have avoided assaulting the majority of men who vaguely resemble you in height.

On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
I have avoided the women that vaguely resemble you.

From: Shelly D:
I have renounced my preferences and now only date women except for women named "samantha".

On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
You have made me immensely relieved that my suspicions about your preferences were right all along, but now I am scared to date women at all, just in case you have beaten me to them. Unless they are called Samantha, in which case I am safe as long as I don't mind shouting my own name out in bed. (which I don't).