Dear Mrs Steve Phillips

Dear Mrs Steve Phillips

It has been a while since I wrote to you but you keep hanging up when I call the house. I mean I know it is an unlisted number but I was able to get it very easily from another girl Steve had boincked. Steve had boincked a bunch of girls you know. He still is. The check out girl at Walbaums. Your manicurist. His mothers home care attendant. Everybody except you bitch.

Anyhoo I want to see if Steve wants to go with me to the All Star game at Citifield. I know the Mets don't let him in unless he buys a ticket but I got some freebees. You see I have some massage clients up in Massachuets where I live now. I do a lot of the Patriots. Bill Belechick loves his manicures. And his massages. And his Cleveland Steamers. So I have doing a bunch of them so to speak and somehow I got Aaron Hernandez won't be using his tickets. He loved when I massaged his eyeball with my nipples. So Steve and I can check out the game together like we used to do back in the day at ESPN. I even saved the Met stuff he gave me from the lost and found at the stadium.

I even have an old Mr Met's head that I can wear while we have butt sex in the parking lot in my Acura. Just like old times.

I want you to remind the kids to watch out who they link to on Pinterest. They really shouldn't suscribe to my site. Unless they want to see photo's of their Dad's weiner. And Weiner's weiner. I have a whole gallery. Now I admit that Pete Gaamons weiner is interesting because it looks like a tiny white worm in the bottom of a tequila bottle. But take it from me. You shouldn't try to swallow that either.

Please be sure to look both ways when you walk to the car after you get your nails done at A-1 Number Nail parlor. Especailly if you see a dusty brown Acura with a broken windshield.

And a dirty Mr Met head in the back seat.

Toodles,

Your Pal,

Brooke.

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

It has been a while since I last wrote to you but I don't want you to think I forgot about you. Cunt.

My life has been very difficult the past year. Ever since I lost the job at the massage parlor because my best trick AL was in the news I have to sleep in my Acura. You know the same Acura I had sex with your husband in. THREE TIMES! I wasn't just a casual fling like that secretary in the Met's spring training that sued him or Ann Curry. I was special! Steve always told me that not anyone could wear the Mr Met's head and give head like I could.

When Petey Gaamons threw me out of the assisted living facility I only had my massage skills to fall back on and now I have a new gig. I am working children's parties as a clown. I dress up as Susie Sparkles and do tricks and stuff. I also do bachelor parties and dress up like a bunny and turn tricks. A girl has to do what a girl has to do.

Anyways I hear that you and Stevie have fallen on hard times. His book was a flop and nobody will hire him to talk about baseball. He flunked out of sex rehab and had to move back into your basement. I have been thinking about relocating to the East Coast and I had an idea.

We can all get married. Or in your case remarried. Then we can sue to have the government recognize us as a couple. Or a triple. Or something. I mean if the homos can do it we can make some money off it too!

We can even get a reality show out of it. It has everything. Sex. Marriage. Infidelity. Violence. Bigamy. Polgyamy. Pygmies.  Well you are really short so we can pretend. I am sure we can sell it to TLC. I once fleched the producer of "Honey Boo Boo" so I have an in. So talk to Steve about. He can't sit in pjamas and masturbate to old "Facts of Life" reruns all the time.

So lets talk. Oh I would tell your kids to watch out who they friend on their Instagram. They might like all those photos of a shaved chucky but they don't know it is from. And tell them to look both ways when they cross the street.

You too. Especailly if you see a brown Acura with a busted back window.

Toodles,
Your friend and future sister wife,
Brooke.

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

You might not remember me but I have written to you before. My name is Kim and I used to be married to a ballplayer. And he was not just a player let me tell you. Not any plain old Sortarican that they imported to play the beisbol. It was that piece of shit Art Shamsky who was a big deal with the fuckin shit ass Mets thirty years ago. And he is still eating off of that shit if you can believe it.

You remember how it was when you were married to the General Manager of the New York Mets. It was a big deal. Well to the morons who follow the Mets. I mean regular people didn't give a shit. Being married to a Met is not as cool as being married to a sanitation worker or something cool like that. But it got you into Shea Stadium for free and you got free hot dogs. Well at least the ones they dropped on the floor.

You must have heard how Art divorced me and refused to pay alimony or anything. I thought I had him with his notes about how he was molesting my dog but the lame ass judge didn't care about that. You would think that a judge would have some compassion but he didn't give a shit. So I never go paid just like you are not getting paid.

I know Stevie was trying to get a new gig. I don't know why he didn't. He should call up the Red Sox. I hear that they hired Bobby Valentine as their manager so it is obvious that they are hiring all the Met's rejects to staff their team now that the boy wonder Theo Epstein has left. They want to hire ex-Mets to piss off the Yankees but since George is dead I don't think the Yankees even notice anymore. And it is getting ridiculous. I mean I can understand hiring Dwight Gooden to handle the Pharmacy and Darryl Strawberry to do your taxes but why would you hire Rusty Staub to give Big Papi a sponge bath. It is just too fuckin weird you know what I mean. Maybe Steve can hire on to run their sexual harassment seminars or something. It seems like something the Red Sox would do.

Anyhoo I figured I should give you some advice. After fighting all those years with Art I took my twat in my hands and decided to do something different with my life. I met this elderly garmento guy named Bobby. He owned a fabric store and I basically trapped him by having wild monkey sex with him a few times. I had a makeover and even changed my name. Now everybody calls me Jill Zarin. You have seen me on TV. You can do the same thing. I hear they are hiring on the Real Housewives of New York now that they fired....err now that I quit. So you can get a cool gig and lots of ink.

You can't go the way of our mutual friend Brooke Hundley. Well she is my friend. I know you hate her guts because she was banging Steve but I mean why hold a grudge. Steve would have screwed the Crack of Dawn after all. Poor Brooke had a short relationship with Peter Gaamons that old pervert Sportswriter from ESPN who likes to whack off in the jocks of old Red Sox players. I think the last I heard she hooked up with an assistant basketball coach at Syracuse University. I wonder how that turned out. Let me know if you hear from her again.

I just want to know that you have to let it go. That is why when I went to the author graph show and saw that Art was signing I didn't go over to confront him. I stood at my table with Kelly and Cindy and Danielle Staub and signed with them. That was the first time I met Danielle Staub. I asked her if she was related to Rusty and they are cousins. But they are very different. Danielle like girls.

Ok I will admit that I did have Eddie Munster go over and give Artie a wedgie and knock over all of his books. They threw Eddie out but they do that all the time at these shows. All I had to do was pee in my panties and give them to that little washed up perv for a cum rag. Art never knew I was behind it. Just like I never knew he was behind me when he was trying to get it in. You should do the same thing.

Remember. Living well is the best revenge.


Toodles,
Your friend
Jill (Kim Shamsky) Zarin

Dear Mrs Steve Phillips

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

Well I haven't written to you in a while you frigid bitch. I have been having a bad time. Ever since Peety Gaamons threw me out of the assisted living facility because I mixed up the Ben Gay and the K-Y jelly things have been tough.

The massage gig ended when my biggest customer AL got in trouble with some redheaded bitch in California and he stopped coming to my massage parlor. The bitch that ran it decided to stick with Korean girls who were illegal and don't speak English. So I was out on the street.

I had to sleep in my Acura for a couple of months. You know my Acura. It's where I had sex with your dirt bag husband Steve three times. That's right three times.

Here is a picture of the first night we did it. He noticed me when we were on the field and he had to get him some of this. We went into the parking lot and he had me put on the Mr. Met Head and he made me turn around and he back doored me right in my Cookie Rojas. It was heaven. I don't know why it had to end.

You never loved him you bitch. With your fancy house in Connecticut and your kids and all your teeth. Stevie liked that I had snaggly teeth. It liked how it rubbed up and scraped his tiny little peter. Of course his peter wasn't as tiny as Peter Gaamon's peety but that is only because Red Sox fans have the smallest ones in the major leagues. Stevie loved it when I took it out under the desk while he was reading the scores on Baseball tonight. And now it is all over.

YOU BITCH!!!! YOU RUINED IT ALL!!!!!!!

Anyway I just wanted you to know that you didn't win. I am getting back on my feet. I mean I am still on my knees but I am getting back on my feet. Charlie Sheen just hired me to be a nanny for his kids. What about them apples bitch.

By the way I love the new clothes that the kids got for back to school. Especially the little one. Just tell him that he has to careful who he friends on face book. You never know who it might be that is sending him photo's of her Cookie Rojas.I bet that's the first time somebody winked at him with a brown eye. Just sayn.

Oh and remember to look both ways when you are crossing the street especially if you see a brown Acura with a busted back window.

Toodles,
Your pal,
Brooke.

Dear Mrs. Steve Philips

How are you. You frigid bitch. I haven't written to you in a while because I have been very busy.

I lost the job at the massage parlor because my best customer Al got in a lot of trouble and all the girls who worked with him got let go. Sort of what happened with Steve and all the girls he knew when he ran the Mets. They fired ten secretaries, three girls at the cafeteria and that effeminate ballboy. They cleaned house just like they did when they fired Omar Mineya. Then they just fired all the beaners instead of the broads. But it was the same thing.

Anyhoo I am going to the General Managers meeting to see if I can get another gig. Maybe they someone to massage the stats or something like that there. So I want you to tell Steve that if anyone calls for a background check he better give me a good report or else. Or else what you say? Or else I might tell them all about him and his tiny Mr. Met. I don't think you want that to get around. I mean Steve had the smallest little thing I ever saw. Even Pete Gaamons was bigger and they guy is ninety fuckin years old for Christ's sake. And Al was even bigger even though it would start to shrink whenever someone started talking about global warming. But I could fix that when I got in the polar bear suit with the crotch cut out. But nothing would help your Stevie. So he better not mess me up when I go for a new job.

I am trying to get with the Chicago teams. Either the Cubs or the White Sox. I don't care which one I can go either way. Which is what I am going to say about Stevie if he fucks with me again.

Oh and tell you sons not to friend anyone who askes on Facebook just because they sent them a photo of their chucky. Just sayn.

And remember. Look both ways when you cross the street bitch. Especailly if you see a brown Acura with a broken back window.

Toodles,

You pal

Brooke.

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

Dear Mrs. Steve Philips

Well I hope you are happy you frigid bitch. After you complained about my last letter Petey threw me out of the house. He said that you contacted Major League Baseball and they said that they wouldn’t let him cover the ballpark if he stayed with me so I had to go. I can’t believe that you would do that to me!

I couldn’t go back home since it all came out about Steve and me doing it three times in my Acura in the parking lot. My father has disowned me and said he never wanted to see me again. I was living in my car for a while until I got this new job at the massage parlor. It isn’t the greatest but it’s a living. And now everything is going to be all right.

You see I met this new guy. His name is Al and he was an outcall customer but now we are in love. He especially loves my special lower belly massage. You know the one that Steve liked me to give while he was reading the scores on Baseball Tonight. It is a home run every time out.

Anyway Al is very green. And not just his skin. Well his petey is a little green. Not like Petey Gaamon's petey was green. That was just old age and dry rot. But Al painted his green. For the earth. He said I smelled like the earth. Like Gaia. I said “What you mean like Teresa’s little daughter from “The Real Housewives of New Jersey? What are you a freak?” But he didn’t mean that. He meant like mother Gaia, you know the earth mother. Now Steve never said I smelt like the earth. He said I smelt like Chicken of the Sea. Which used to get Petey Gaamons all hot because it reminded him of Ted Williams. So there.

Anyhoo Al is very normal. But not a square. I mean he does like me to dress up. I have to wear this polar bear costume with a hole cut in it. Which is much better than that Mr. Met Hat that Steve made me wear all three times we had sex in my Acura in the parking lot. That always smelt like splooge. My Al just likes me to be all furry. Well almost all furry. He makes me shave my chucky. He says it is because he really hates bush. Whatever. It’s little enough for the love we share.

I don’t want you to think I have forgotten about you and what you did to me. You broke up me and Steve and I can’t let that go. So you will be hearing from me soon.

Oh and maybe you should tell you kids to look both ways when they cross the street. You know what I mean. When I was following them….I mean when I saw them last they just kept running across the street without looking.

As for you. If you see a brown Acura with a broken back window you better run like hell. Just sayn.”

Toodles
You friend
Brooke

Dear Mrs. Steve Philips

Well I listened to Steve on that pompous prick Mike Francesa's radio show and I am pissed. Pissed I tell. As pissed as Petey gets if I don't change his Depends every hour on the hour.

Francesa kissed his ass the whole time. All Steve talked about is his sex addiction. How it was all his fault and you had nothing to do with it. Well that's not what he said when he wanted to put it in my pooter in my Acura in the parking lot at Fenway Park. He said you were a frigid bitch that only wanted to go to the spa and that you had no time for him. All he ever did was talk bad to you all three times we did in the car. Of course I had to wear the big Mr. Met's head but I am pretty sure that was what he was mumbling about.

Francesa just took calls from douche bags who wanted to kiss his ass and Steve's ass. He would never have me on his fuckin' show. I mean I lost my job too. My boss screwed me and lied to me and he gets to go on and sell his rehab bullshit and I am cleaning the colostomy bag of a Red Sox fan just to make ends meet. If I didn't let Steve meet my end none of this would have happened!

WHAT ABOUT ME!!!!!

Where do I go to get my reputation back. Or to get another job. I mean David Letterman offered me a job and I had an application in with Governor Patterson but he fucked that up and now I am up shits creek.

Stevie better realize he ain't gonna get off this easy. I know where he lives. I know where you live. I know where rock lives. And I am gonna rock. Just wait and see.

Look behind you when you go out. Just so you know.

Toodles,

Your pal,

Brooke

Dear Mrs. Steve Philips

Dear Mrs. Steve Philips

I am sorry that I have not written to you lately as I have been very busy with my new lover. Peter is the greatest and so much better than that Scievey Stevie that you are stuck with. Don’t tell me the bullshit that you are getting a divorce. I know you still have your hooks in him you frigid bitch. He should just go out and stick it in the snow. He would have just as much fun.

You have not idea how great my life is with Petey. He is a real man not a sleaze like Steve. He doesn’t make me only have sex with him in my Acura in the parking lot like Steve used to do. We live together. That’s right I can stay in his house. I mean I have to change his colostomy bag every two hours and the rubber sheets every day but that is little enough to do for love. Petey just loves to look at me. He always tells me that he when he looks at me he wished he had the eyes of Tony Conigliaro. Isn’t that sweet! Steve never said anything like that. He only told me to turn around and face the window put that Mr. Met head on. What a freak!

Anyhoo, I hear that Steve is going on the radio with that pompous fuck Mike Francesa on WFAN. He better watch what he says I want to tell you. If he is nasty you should know I can be nasty right back. I know a lot of stuff. Dirty stuff. Filthy stuff. He better not fuck with me. You will be sorry!

You better use that micro-chip you inserted in his head to control him or you will be sorry. Oh and I loved the outfits you dressed the kids in on Monday for the snow. They looked so cute when they went into school.

Just sayn’

Toodles,
Your Pal,
Brooke

Dear Mrs Steve Philips

I know I haven't written to you lately but I have been real busy. Ever since I got together with Petey Gammon's I have had a whole new life. He finally gave up his gig with those bitches at ESPN so we can be together all the time. It gets kinda of boring sometimes because all he wants to do is listen to replays of old Red Sox games and have me whack him off with his autograph Johnny Pesky jock strap but we are happy.

SO WHY DO YOU WANT TO RUIN MY LIFE YOU CUNT!!!!!!

I see where you are having Steve go on the Today show this Monday to talk about our love affair. I know you have brainwashed him and are going to make him tell lies about what we had together. I mean he is never going to tell the truth about the great sex we had all three times in my Acura in the parking lot. Ever since you sent him to sex jail he has refused to talk to anyone. I bet you did to him what they are doing to Tiger Woods. You are so evil, I don't know how you can live with yourself.

Well I don't care what lies you put Steve up to telling on the TV. That Matt Laurer is so gullible he will believe anything. I mean he even believes that Obama was actually born in the United States for crying out loud. What a jerkoff. Which is what Steve sceamed the second time we did it in the parking lot at Busch stadium. And you know Steve likes his Busch hairy so to speak. He loved my Oscar Gamble why don't you have talk about that why don't you!

Anyway you can give this picture to Steve so he can see what he is missing. I was just going out to pick up another jumbo colostomy bag for Petey. He always loses his bowels when spring training starts and that is only a couple of days away. You tell Steve he can think about what he gave up that dumb fuck.

Sorry I have to go to the bodega to get more Depends. Petey wet himself again. I dropped a can of Chicken of Sea out of the cupboard and that made him think of Ted Williams and that always gets him excited.

Tell Steve I will be watching on Monday. He better watch what he says.

Toodles

Your Pal

Brooke

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

I am tired of writing to you. And I am tired of waiting for Steve to call me back. I don't know how you can use your mutant ninja turtle mind control techniques to block my calls and emails but I don' t think it is worth it anymore.

Tell Steve that I have a new lover. He is a lot older than me but a real classy gentleman. He just quit ESPN because they wouldn't let him date me if he wanted to work for them. So he chose me. THAT"S RIGHT!!! ME YOU BITCH!!!

I mean dating an older guy like Petey is great. Well his petey ain't great. It doesn't work most of the time. I mean I have to dress up in a big red sox for him to even get a little hard. But he makes up for it with attitude. I mean when he takes his teeth out and puts the in the glass by the side of the bed he is ready to rock. When he gums my nipples and then munches on the fish taco he sends me to heaven. Much much better than Steve ever did those three times we did it in my Acura in the parking lot. So there Steve Phillips. I don't need you.

Petey and I are very happy together. I just have to sneak into the assisted living facility and hide in the closed until the orderly does bed check. But it is worth it to be with someone who loves me. I am going to stick with this for the long term. So you can forget about me Steve.

Cause when Petey goes to the big ballpark in the Sky I am going to give Tiger Woods a call.

Toodles.

Your Pal

Brooke

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

I don't know what kind of ninja mind tricks they taught you in that fancy finishing school but I don't understand how you can block all my calls and emails to Steve. He must be out of sex jail by now and I know he wants to contact me. I mean he probably is kinda bored now that you

MADE HIM LOSE HIS JOB YOU EVIL BITCH!!!!!!

If it wasn't for you spilling the beans to the papers and everything we still would have been able to go on the way were where. Misty mountain covered memories of the way we were. I mean Steve would have come how to his no sex marriage with you the ice queen and your fancy mansion and your seven kids and he still could have had anal with me in parking lot in my car. I was planning on getting a bigger one anyway cause my friend Elin is giving me a deal on an SUV. She is happily married now and she is part of my crew with Kim Shamsky and Chloe Kardashian and Kim and Sheree and NeNe and all the rest. Plus she is sending me a golf club. She says it will come in handy.

I bet you never gave Steve a handy like I used to under the table while he was reading the Stats on Baseball tonight. You are one cold bitch to throw him out and block all my calls. If you don't want him anymore why can't you let me have him? What's the problem? Is it because Steve loves me best. He said I was the best. I was his little catcher. The best he ever had. Well except for Mike Piazza but that didn't count. I didn't mind that. I mean you basically kinda had to be gay or bi to be associated with the Mets. Not that theres anything wrong with that. That's why they are called the Mets. My Entire Team Sucks. They just spend two much time sucking on each other and not enough on fundamentals. And Steve loved my fundamentals. And my fundement. And you are keeping us apart. This will not stand.

So I am gonna tell you one more time. You better stop blocking my calls and emails. I want to talk to Steve and I want to talk to him now. Don't me come up to Connecticut. Steve always said when I get mad it isn't pretty.

And I am plenty mad.

Toodles,

your Pal

Brooke

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

You don't know me but I think we have a lot in common. My name is Kim and I used to be married to a ballplayer. And he was just a player let me tell you. It was that piece of shit Art Shamsky who was a big deal with the freakin Mets thirty years ago. And he is still eating off of that shit if you can believe it.

I bet I was just like you when you fell in love. I loved being involved with someone in the public eye who everyone wanted to talk to because he was in baseball. I mean he wasn't a nebbish like so many of the guys I used to date and all the newpaper guys wanted to talk to him and he was on the radio all the time and it was so cool. But he couldn't keep it in his pants just like your Stevarino. He would bang anything on two legs. And some of them on four that filthy dog lover. Do you know he molested my puppy. Yes he did the pig.

So I know exactly what you are going through. You thought it would be all sweetness and light and instead it is all crap and dog biscuits. I think it is because they were associated with the dog ass Mets. I mean look at the Yankees. Jeter gets to bang all the hottest actresses and A-Rod is even getting into the act. And back in the day Joe DiMaggio was doing it with Marilyn Monroe.

It sure beats the hell out of Cleon Jones banging a crack whore in a van in spring training or Dwight Gooden and all of his teammates pulling a train on David Cone's leftovers. I mean who needs that. Stay away from the Mets that what I say.

That's why I am turning to the Giants. That's me with my new squeeze Brandon Jacobs. He is a Giant. In more ways than one. He really knows how to treat a lady. Hard. Dirty. Nasty. Did I say hard. Really really hard. See I am in a club with Khole Kardassian and a whole bunch of other skanky white girls who hooked up with hot black athletes. And it is true once you go black you never go back. Well you can't go back to Jewish guys cause they can't touch the sides you know?

Anyway I think you should get over Steve and come over to the dark side. Hee. I want to introduce to my friend Eddie Curry. He is a real nice guy. Very neat and considerate. You will really like him. And he has a limo.

Why not dump Steve and let Brooke have him. I think they were made for each other. And you can get yourself a nice big piece of chocolate.

Living well is the best revenge.

Toodles,

Your pal

Kim Shamsky

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

I don't know how you are doing this ninja mind control on Steve and getting him to ignore my calls and emails. I mean I know you can block it with the help of ESPN who has that secret room in Bristol, Conneticut that we were never allowed in. I always thought it was where Chris Berman went to get his Cleveland Steamers from his production assistants but now I know it must have the mind control machine that controls the microchips that they implant in all ESPN personal. Otherwise how could you have so many of them picking the Phillies over the Yankees. So I know you are in cahoots with ESPN to block Steve's mind to stop him from contacting me.

Me. I know he loves ME. MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I wanted to give you a picture of what I looked like the first time Steve and I did it in the parking lot at Fenway Park. I am so hot. Steaming hot. Just like a Cleveland Steamer that Chris Berman had on his manboobs on Superbowl Sunday. I knew it was true love when he asked me to give him a lift to his hotel and as soon as he got in the car he grabbed my head and pushed it down to his lap and made me polish his knob and all. He said that was the best sex he ever had ....that day...but I know he meant forever and ever and ever.

I know Steve is at the winter meetings. They won't let me in the hotel and I am forced to stay out on the street with the autograph hounds and the groupies and Pete Rose. But I know Steve is in there using his contacts to get a new job with another team so he can use the expertise that built the Mets into the Juggernauts they are today. That's what he called my titties you know. The Jugger-nots. He liked them because they were meaty and healthy and not phony like the ones he had to buy for you. Bitch.

So this is the last chance I am giving you. If you don't let Steve call me I might have to do something drastic. So think it over. I am sure you will do the right thing. If you want to make it to spring training.

Toodles,

your pal,

Brooke Hundley

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

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

I don't know how you managed to change Steve's cell phone number and block his emails but I know you are doing all you can to keep him from me. I mean you put him in rehab which is like jail because you claim he is addicted to sex. You know that is not true, I mean nobody who was addicted to sex would take so long to get it up. I mean it would be like a pot head who didn't like to smoke.

I can't believe that Steve doesn't want to see me or talk to me. We established such a close bond those three times we did it in the parking lot. I know he will never forget that night he had me wear the Mr. Met Head and give him Mr. Met Head!

SO THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!

You got him fired and you got me fired because of your big fat mouth. Well you better tell Steve that better call me soon or he is not gonna get anymore of my honeypot. I have a lot of people who are buzzing around. David Letterman wants me to apply to be an intern. And this rich old guy wants to go out with me now that Anna Nicole Smith is dead. The only thing is he is kinda weird, he wants me to wear Ted Williams head when I give him Ted Williams Head. But that kind of grosses me out because it has a can of tuna fish stuck to it. He says it's really Ted's Head though cause he got it from Stiener's sports memorabilia and it is certified and everything. You tell Steve he is all over me. Here we are on the Loser Cam at Fenway Park. He stays there all the time, I think he is a professional jock sniffer or something like that. Anyway you tell Steve that if he doesn't call by the weekend I will run away with this old geezer see if I don't!

By the way I hope your infection clears up. Sorry about that. I find Valtrex but you can go with Vaseline and oil of cloves if you want to be more old school.

Toodles,

Your Pal

Brooke Hundley

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

Well now you have done it. You got both me and Steve fired. I hope you're happy. Why did you have to go to the papers. We could have worked it out.

You know Steve really wanted to be with me. Why else would he agree to have sex with me in the car all three times. I mean it's not like we didn't make plans. He told me I could ride in a float with him the next time the Met's won the World Series. But he told me not to hold my breath. Which is sort of strange because he always wanted me to hold my breath when we were together. At least when I was under the table for Baseball tonight.

I can't believe that you made Steve go to rehab for sex addiction. How could you? I mean it's not like he is like that nasty Micheal Douglas with the dead skin and shrunken eyes and the little weenie. I mean ok, Steve sort of has a Gary Busey thing going on but you have to pretend to be inscrutable if you are the general manager of the Mets. I mean look at Omar Minaya. Nobody understands what the fuck he is talking about. I mean he doesn't even speak English for God's sake!

If you hadn't have pulled this shit, Steve and I would have been together at the World Series. Like Jeter and his latest slut bag. Or A-Rod and Kate Hudson. Or Hidecki Matsui and his boyfriend that he pretends is his interpreter. You made me miss the series. They wouldn't even let me in the stadium. So I had to go to Florida instead.

While I was there I met a couple of friends. They are pissed at you too! I think we are going to have to come see you. Just to talk. You know. So you will give up Steve and he and I can finally be together. It is meant to be. You can't stand in the way of true love.

You see the force is strong in me.

Or maybe it's gas.

No, no it's the force.

Me and my friends will see you soon.

Toodles

Your friend

Brooke Hundley

Dear Mrs. Steve Philips

I see that your big mouth got Steve fired. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TELL EVERYONE!!!!!

I mean I have a big mouth but Steve told me I could put it to better use. You knew your marriage was over. I mean after all when Steve was with the Mets he had sex with every woman who worked for the team. And Gary Cohen but that is just because he is way effeminate. And Steve taught those sex harassment classes to all those minor leagurers. I mean those young Dominican boys didn't know you could demand sex from everyone just because you were a ballplayer! I mean they were innocent young boys not Stephon Marbury! Steve had to school them in the ins and out and in and out and in and out. He is a teacher!

I still don't even understand why those lousy Wilpons fired him. He gave them such great advice. Look he traded that douche bag Kazmir who can't even throw the ball over the plate the loser! And he got them all that money by introducing them to Bernie Madoff. Steve told them that they had to invest if they didn't want to get fucked. And everybody wants to get fucked right?

So now your big mouth ruined everything. I know that Steve deeded the house over to you and agreed to a divorce. That was our plan. I mean we didn't talk about it but I did think about it while Steve was giving me an STD in the SUV in the parking lot. And now you end up with everything and Steve lost his job and is in rehab all because you are just a big mouth bitch!

I don't know how you are blocking all my calls and how you still have control of Steve's e-mails so he is not getting any of my messages. But I know Steve really really loves me and he will be calling me when he gets out of rehab. SO YOU BETTER TELL HIM I WILL BE WAITING!!!

You should tell Steve that I will be waiting. I have a gig working the world series at Yankee Stadium. If he is looking for me he should check out the Pretzel stand on the mezzanine level at gate 16. I will be waiting.

Toodles,

Your Pal,

Brooke

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

I don't understand why you don't realize that Steve and I deserve to be together. I mean I did everything for him. I carried his bags and got him his stats and got him his diet Cokes and I let him give me a dirty Sanchez while we were on the road. I even watched the Mets with him and you know I had to love him if I was watching the dog ass Mets.

I even hid under the desk while he did MLB Tonight so he could teabag me while talking about the pennant race. He said it calmed him down. He told me I was the best production assistant he ever had!

I don't know how you are blocking my calls. I guess you changed Steve's cellphone number without telling him so he doesn't know I am calling. I know you blocked his email account. You know you can't keep him away from me. He wants what I got and he wants it bad.

So you better tell him that I am waiting. But he better not wait too long. David Letterman called me for an interview. There's more than one bee buzzing around this honeypot.

Toodles,

Your friend,

Brooke.

Dear Mrs Steve Phillips

I don't know why you are making this so difficult. I mean I am sorry I ran over your Chinese mailman and your rose bushes and hit your front column of your fence. But I really wanted to make it easy for you. To give up Steve. He loves me you know.

You have to realize that Steve loves me. He loves me just as much as he loves baseball. He said he thought that I reminded him of the Mets. I asked him is that because he loved me with all his heart. He mumbled something about getting his rocks off and leaving but I don't think that is what he meant. He was just mad because Theo Epstein was on the TV and he hates him because he is still a GM and Steve is just a talking puppet on basic cable. I mean he did such a great job as general manager. Look at how he got rid of that loser Scott Kazmir. He couldn't even beat the stinky Yankees. He was right to trade him for that pitcher with one arm.

Steve is so smart. I loved to work with him at ESPN. He was so witty and funny and cool. I think it is so true that he was right to not sign A-Rod for the Mets. Then the team would have definitely been 24 plus 1. I mean Steve knows that A-Rod is just a big cheater. And he even cheated on his wife with that whore Madonna. I am so glad that the Mets didn't sign him.

Now don't get me wrong. Steve didn't cheat on you. Not really. I mean your marriage is over he was just staying because of your seven kids. You should have a reality show. You know like that crazy bitch who married that vaguely chinky guy like the mailman I ran over. They lost their show maybe you can get it. Just so long as you let Steve go.

I want to say I am sorry that I was writing to your oldest son on Facebook. But I had to find out what was going on. I sent him this picture of me in my bunny costume. Steve loved that costume too. He said we had to fuck like bunnies. He loved for me to dress up. All three times we did it. Once he made me dress up like Joan Payson. That was kinda kinky you know. I just didn't like it when I had to wear that Big Mr Met Head. That was very stuffy. And it smelled like cum. Just like I did when Stevie was done with me.

I think you should stop going to the newspapers and just realize that my Stevie and I have to be together. I don't want to keep dropping these letters off at you house because I have to get my Camry fixed. So please just let my Stevie go.

Otherwise I might have to do something I don't want to do.

Toodles,

Your pal
Brooke Hundley

Dear Mrs. Steve Phillips

Hi you don't know me but I am the assistant who has been having sex with your husband for the last year. You know while he was working up at ESPN. Now you must know that it is a requirement that all of the assistants who live and work in Connecticut have to have stinky dirty sex with the on air talent. And not just at ESPN. That's also why David Letterman lives up here.

Anyway I want you to know that it wasn't just dirty filthy nasty sex between Steve and me. We love each other. I know that because all three times that he banged me he grunted that yes he loved it. And by it I am sure he meant me. I mean I know he made me wear a bag over my head with a picture of Robbie Alomar on it but that was just kinky stuff you know. I mean after all the man ran the Mets so he has to be kind of kinky.

Oh and if you don't believe me I just have to tell you that is dick is kinky too! It bends to the left and he has a birthmark in the shape that looks a lot like Jerry Koosman right on his taint. Just in case you think I was making this up.

Now Steve told me all about your family. About your seven kids. I have been facebooking them all and I know everything about you. You know you should tell your sons not to write back to every woman who facebooks them and sends them pictures of her pooter. I mean it was ok for me to do it but then I am practically part of the family.

So you should know that Steve and I were meant to be together since you don't love him and would never give him anal like I would. I think you might have seen me when I dropped off this letter and you were walking up the driveway. I drove off kind of fast and I am sorry that I ran over your mailmen. But he was Chinese so I am sure there are plenty more where he came from. Sorry about that.

Anyway I think you should realize that you can not stop Steve and me from being together. You can keep the mansion and the cars and the jewelry and the seven kids. All I want is Steve to live with me in my studio apartment in my fathers basement. We just want to be together! You have to realize that Steve doesn't love you since I am the fifty seventh woman he has fucked this year. But I am the last. He loves me. So I think what you should do is give Steve his freedom.

I think that would be best for all concerned.

Anyways, thanks for listening. I am on my way to the pet store to buy a bunny.

Your pal,

Brooke Hundley