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