I know this may seem like I'm coming on a little strong.  I realize that we've never even once seen each other before this moment, our paths crossing as you are walking your two dogs and I'm walking…nowhere in particular.  Our eyes meet.  I step aside to avoid your charges, who are sniffing and barking at everything in sight.  We smile at each other.  And though neither of us says anything, I think it's pretty clear what needs to happen here: Full-on, hardcore, bed-shaking sexual intercourse.

You're shocked.  Right now you are saying to yourself, "I'm not that type of girl."  You're saying, "I don't sleep with guys I have just met, particularly ones wandering outside of his apartment building with no dog or apparent walking agenda."  You're saying, "Who are you, to even think that I would talk to you, much less have sex with you, when I don't even know your name?"

I understand your hesitation.  I do.  And normally, I would agree with you 100%.  You shouldn't just have sex with a guy you just happened to pass by on the sidewalk.  But what you are clearly failing to take into consideration is this: 9/11 changed everything.  We live in a different world now.  On September 11, 2001, terrorists attacked our country and murdered over 3,000 Americans, and now we live in a time where we must constantly be vigilant, a world where it is us and them, and we CANNOT lose this battle.  Basically, what I am saying to you is:

If you don't have sex with me, the terrorists win.

Surely you can see the connection.  They hate us because they hate our freedom.  Our freedom to do what we choose.  For instance, the choice to have sex with a gangly, semi-creepy looking white guy you just met walking your dogs outside your apartment building.  Terrorists HATE when we do that shit.  So, to fight against the terrorists and their horrible, Tim-Not-Getting-Laid ideals, you MUST have sex with me.  For the good of the country, we need to go up to my bedroom right now, or possibly shower, and engage in a good ninety seconds of elbowy, pale, nerd sex, followed by another thirty seconds of awkward, insincere cuddling.

Unless, of course, you hate America.

And speaking of hating American, what the hell is your problem, Student Loan Collection Man?  Yes, I realize I borrowed thousands of dollars from your company in order to complete my college education.  And yes, I realize I signed a note promising I would pay said thousands of dollars back to you.  But if you look closely at those documents, I think you will clearly see that I signed them BEFORE 9/11.  That's right, the obligation to pay these loans back to you was made at an entirely different time.  We live in a completely different era now, one of religious fanatics who band together in order to destroy our way of life.  And these evil-doers just LOVE seeing us go after each other, destroying our own society from the inside by squabbling with each other over petty little concerns like student loan payments.

Do you think the brave men and women fighting for our freedoms in Iraq worry about student loan payments?  When they're dodging bullets as they run from sand dune to sand dune, courageously carrying the American flag through a storm of shrapnel, do you think they say to themselves, "I wonder how much interest has accumulated on my student loan?"  No.  Because they know it is us and them.  You're either for us…or you're for the repayment of legally binding educational loans.

And don't think the terrorists don't know that you are sending letters to my home everyday, demanding payment on this loan.  They know, and they love it.  They feed on our infighting.  You, Mr. Student Loan Collection Man, are giving aid and comfort to our enemies with your constant threats of "litigation" and "judgment."

For shame.

And shame on you, too, dirty dishes.  Right now I'm staring at an ever increasing pile of you accumulating in my sink, and it's downright unpatriotic.  Don't you know that right this moment, there are terrible fanatics plotting ways to strike at the heart of American society and tear us apart, while you sit there with your thin layer of gross slim and fruit flies buzzing about you.

I understand that before 9/11, I would be required to actually take a wet sponge and also possibly some soapy water and wipe you down to clean you…but this is a new era we live in.  An era of Good-guys and bad-guys, freedom lovers and terrorists, the brave and the cowardly.  Not an era of wash-rinse-repeat.  Damn you to hell, dirty dishes, but your un-American stinking up of my apartment has left me with little choice but to send in Sergeant Nikki W. to straighten out your liberal, pansy-ass, food-encrusted ways.  And by "send it" Nikki W, I mean "wait until she gets sick of looking at you so she does the dishes instead of me."

And meanwhile, the terrorists laugh.

(Okay, it's tacky…but if George Bush can invade a country, destroy our civil liberties, and get re-elected using this stuff, I figure I should at least be able to get some ass, a free education, and some clean dishes with the same material.  Right?)