Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

I see that Steve is out of sex jail and he is going to the general manager meetings. And you are not with him. I know you can never keep us apart. I don't know how you manage to block all my calls to him and it is no fair how you gave my picture to all the hotels so they won't let me in the lobby.

I know that Steve wants to see me. I mean he said I was his perfect little catcher. I mean I was happy to squat on him if it made him happy. It hurt a little because he always forgot to lube up and pine tar doesn't work all that well. If you don't believe me ask Robbie Alomar. But it was still the best that he ever had. All three times we were together in the parking lot. Not everyone can make the beast with two backs in an Acura. Steve always said I was very limber.

I know Steve will get a job. He is just so talented. I mean he knew that A-Rod would never make in New York and win a championship. He is so much better than that Mexican guy the Mets have now. I mean what kind of name is Omar anyway. He sounds like one of those terrorist type guys. He might blow up the Mets at any moment.

I want you to tell Steve that he better call me. I am getting impatient. I need him and I need him now. I can't get through the night just watching my DVR tapes of baseball tonight with my little friend. I am out of work now and batteries are really expensive.

I don't want to have to come up to see you again. I mean you are just getting used to your new mailman. Don't make me do something I don't want to do. I have been talking to Kim Shamskey and she has been giving me some pointers.

So make it happen bitch or you will be sorry.

Toodles,
Your Friend
Brooke