Dearest Jermaine...

I don't know who you are...but you have apparently given all of your friends my number saying that it is yours.
Either they all wrote it down wrong, or you messed up.

How do I know your name is Jermaine? Possibly from the fact that a lot of your friends have called me, and when I answered with "Hello?" they promptly responded with "HEY, YO, JERMAINE! WHERE THE F*** YOU AT!???" After which, I had to inform the caller that I was a female, my name was not named Jermaine, and that they had the wrong number.

It pains me to tell you this after only 3 weeks, but I must turn in my resignation as your drug dealing secretary.

I am not saying that I think you're a drug dealer based on that fact that your name is Jermaine. That is stereotypical, and very racist.

No, I'm basing the "drug dealing" on that fact that people have called me wanting some "candy" and to "party". Who parties on a Monday night, Jermaine? What clean, sober person parties on a MONDAY?

Also, some of the calls come in like a code. My phone will ring twice, the caller will hang up, and then immediately call back, letting it ring twice and then hanging up again. Either that's drug code or that's some assassin sleeper cell code and I just got activated.

(Update: I'm not an assassin.)

Therefore, I will no longer be answering my phone from unknown numbers and shall have them go to my voicemail, which clearly states that my name is Chynna and that if the caller does not know a "Chynna" then they have the wrong number. (Though this has not stopped many from leaving messages still inquiring about "partying" with Jermaine while they're in town.

Good luck with all your future endeavors and your apparent dyslexia,

P.S. Your friends are really starting to get pissed that they can't get in touch with you...They do not like when they ask for 'candy' and I tell them that I have Smarties.

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