Last week, I received a cryptic message from an anonymous individual to my pseudonym email address:
Should you fervently desire to meet the Great Neil,
Continue to read and examine this spiel.
Embark on the Post Hunt this forthcoming Sunday,
Win the P.H. and achieve your dream of Pay per Play.
I will emphasize this point just once more,
You can’t have NPH without P.H., you skanky little whore.
P.S. I don’t really think you’re a whore, but it rhymes with more and is just freaking awesome.
Upon receiving this message, I jumped in glee. I arose from the seat in which I stew in my lawyer juices and performed my NSYNC Bye Bye Bye dance, pumping my fists in the air. Could this be it? The key to meeting Tina Fey NPH? I quickly searched Al Gore’s Internet to determine what this “Post Hunt” could be. Alas, I saw the task that lay before me. The Post Hunt was a scavenger hunt of sorts—for the brain! Eureka, I thought! I may not be able to outrun or outlast, but I can surely outwit, right?
However, in the midst of my celebratory dance and preparation for the Post Hunt, I began to wonder if someone was screwing with me. Perhaps someone saw my pleas and desired, just for kicks, to elevate my hopes to the point in which I outright quit my job in a blaze of glory in order to fully devote myself to winning the Post Hunt and achieving my dream to meet and become best friends with Tina Fey NPH? What if this is all a ruse to distract me from the real Tina Fey NPH? But then, I thought, even if the prize was not Tina Fey, NPH, I could surely parlay my 15 minutes of fame into a shameless publicity tour in the hopes that Tina Fey NPH will happen to stumble across an article in the Washington Post, where one of DC’s finest lawyers is on the winning Post Hunt team, strips down buck-naked, and reveals a tattoo on her chest and buttocks that reads: DISCOVER ME, TINA FEY NPH!!! It’s a genius plan!
So, with three other brilliant minds (the AGs and the hubby), we embarked on the Hunt. Initially stumped by the first clue, we abandoned the clue temporarily to tackle the other clues. Like a well-oiled machine, the four of us steamrolled the competition by making quick work of the four other clues. Finally, we returned to the original clue and began twisting our minds in the final leg of cranial gymnastics. As the minutes wound down, and the answer did not come to light, my dreams of meeting Tina Fey NPH began to fade. Would this be it? Would my dreams become thwarted by two human statues standing before the Post Office, mocking me with their poses? With defeat only 20 minutes away, I hung my head in shame. I did not meet the great Tina Fey NPH yesterday, but I can hope that he will someday hear my pleas and marvel at my devotion.
Because Lord knows getting these tattoos on my butt and chest hurt like hell.
Discover me, Tina Fey NPH!!