September 26th, 2000

Justin,

As much as it pains me to say this… you were right. I enjoyed your show. Probably one of the best comedic stage acts I’ve ever seen.

First off… where the hell was Lance when the memo about gay men being good dancers came out? Cause….wow. I haven’t seen dancing that awful since you were on the mouse show. I mean… was he too busy making friendship bracelets or painting his nails to read it?

The second most disturbing event of the evening was that… thing, you do with your mouth. Number one… child, you are white. And you are from the south. You are not a hardcore rapper from Detroit, ok? If need be, I will have your mother send you some of your baby pictures as proof.

I mean… can you not control your spit or something? You could probably see a doctor for that. I just do not understand why chicks think it’s attractive when you practically mouth rape your microphone.

And you know… why do those girls just stand there and scream for two hours? Isn’t the point of going to a concert to enjoy the music? Well… I take that back. Now that I think about it, they were probably screaming in agony. I mean… it’s bad enough they had to listen to you… but they had to look at you on top of it. I’m kind of amazed there aren’t mass suicides when you perform.

However, I will say one thing for your group. And just hear me out on this… it could be a brilliant marketing strategy for you guys.

Let Jc do all of the singing and dancing by himself. The rest of you can… go play ping pong or something. Let the pretty man handle the entertaining. Feel free to send him along with your next letter. I won’t complain about anything ever again. I promise.

-Norah

P.S- I received quite an interesting letter the other day, and it brought me to one simple conclusion. I like Chris. He sent me a photo of you, circa one week ago, curled up asleep in your bunk, snuggling with your Fraggle. 19 years old, and you still sleep with stuffed animals. And there is photographic evidence. Yep… I definitely like Chris.

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October 4th, 2000

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October 13th, 2000

Justin,

Lighten up, you big baby. Jeez… did somebody shit in your wheaties or something? I was only half serious.

And ok fine… if it makes you feel better and nurses your obviously wounded ego… yes, I enjoyed the show. But if you tell anyone I said that, I swear to god… I will sneak onto your bus and shave your damn afro.

Anyway… I think I’ve finally got myself settled in at school. It took me awhile to learn my way around campus, but I think I’ve got a pretty ok handle on it. My classes for the most part are alright. Except I’m pretty sure one of my art teachers hates me. But, whatever.

My sister called the other day to tell me she’s going to the show when you guys are Memphis. She was none too happy that I got to go for free. So… thank you for giving me something to rub in her face. She totally deserved it.

Alright… I have loads of stuff I need to get done for school, so.. that’s why this is so short.

-Norah

P.S- Before I got to send this…my mom called to tell me my cat died. And I’m not handling it very well. So umm… go easy on me for awhile, alright?

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November 26th, 2000

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December 10th, 2000

Justin,

You know… sometimes, it kind of amazes me that you know exactly when to be nice. It almost leads one to believe you’re a nice person. Which we both know is about as far from the truth as it gets, but… none the less, I appreciate it.

But… if you really want to make me feel better… instead of sending me a new cat, you could just send me Jc. I mean… age and a girlfriend aren’t really huge obstacles. I can work around these things.

And ok fine… I have a crush on one of your bandmates. Mock me all you want. But he’s just so nice to look at.

So anyway… I assume you’re still dating the pop star. How’s that working out?

Oh… your mom called me the other day. Said she wanted to check up on me. I honestly don’t know how such a nice woman gave birth to such a shithead. But… the world is a very confusing place I suppose.

How’s Trace doing? I mean… he’s still alive, right? If you’ve killed him already, it’s ok… I won’t report you to the police or anything. Hell, I’ll probably have a really big party.

I’m hopefully going home for Christmas in a couple weeks. My mom’s planning some huge get together at our house. I’m going to assume you’re invited. If not… forget I mentioned it. And don’t show up at my house on Christmas Eve, ok?

-Norah

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December 23rd, 2000