And I'm not talking about those "I'd like to buy a vowel" type of letters. These are more pieces of psychic junk mail. Now there's a name of a new band if I ever heard one.

So I'm doing the whole "return to sender" thing and I've also had the Irish triplets with switchblades drop by on her doorstep. Trouble is that Maria isn't answering the door.

Damn, she might me onto me.

Of course, if I had opened her last few letters and taped a few of the enclosed "lucky talismans" to my forehead, I might have won on a certain game show. Or gotten a larger role in the taping of a particular Emily Haines video. Or had the foresight to take an umbrella with me when I went to work at a client's office today. Sigh.

Luckily I have some very cool plans this weekend to distract me from this string of bad luck that Maria has placed over my path, hoping to trip me up. I won't give her the satisfaction though.

Perhaps it's time to pick up some extra insurance, just in case.