Miss Ashley Pants

Deeeear Nev,

That is your name, right? You don’t say it enough – so I just want to make sure before I proceed…

Anyway, I’m writing you because I’m totes in love with this chick I met online… but I have some apprehensions. You see, I can understand that she doesn’t like to video chat or whatever. Not everyone’s into that. I get it (and also I was willing to overlook it because she’s been sending me nudies for like ten years now).

However, I apparently didn’t have the foresight to ask her at some point in the past decade to at least prove her legitimacy (AKA that I wasn’t actually sexting with the Human Toe) by doing something like, oh I dunno, taking a selfie I’d requested? Nothing crazy; just ANYTHING, like: “Put on a purple top, scrawl my name on the back of a Chinese delivery menu along with a line from an Edgar Allen Poe poem… and then take a selfie of yourself holding it up. Oh! And don’t forget to prop up the Miss America trophy you said you won in the background!”

So, yeah. I could just stop this letter here, and ask her to do that -like – now.

But, nahhhh … because…I need YOU!

Why? I need you because (although you harbor zero special powers or credentials or technology skills more than I myself have), you, sir, have a prettier LAPTOP and can look up names on Facebook and you know about Spokeo and MyLife. Also, you have MAX and some other camera guy (who nobody ever sees, but who films Max filming you)… And… and… even though you’ve shown us all (literally, step by step, in every single episode) how to do it, I still just can’t seem to find the time to learn how to type in “download reverse image search software” or how to simply copy and paste an image URL into google image search.

It’s just too much for me.

I JUST CAN’T.

So, naturally, I need you: to start your show by reading this out loud (like you’re reading it for the first time and haven’t even called me yet), then do a scene of meeting me at my house, then another scene of you doing detective work in a coffee house 5 blocks away from me, then coming back to my house to toy with my emotions about how she might be fake, then you’ll call her, and she’ll answer and act nonplussed (because people totally answer random numbers and speak in monotone when they aren’t getting paid to do bad acting), and then we’ll fly to see her, and I’ll try to feign pained horror when “she” turns out to be what looks like the pedophile murderer from Lovely Bones (and who might actually be, since he’s straight out of central casting).

Pleeeease help me with my fifteen fame minutes figure out: is it a faux-femme I’m phone-forking? Or is she f’real?

Loooove,
MissAshleyPants
P.S. Oh, One last question:

An hour? Seriously? Don’t get me wrong. The documentary was awesome but – for the show – really? This series is like watching Nascar. I can literally watch just the first and last ten or fifteen minutes and know everything I need to know about the storyline.

<3~A