Firstly, you should have known better, because wonderful people from Google emailed me your IP. Secondly, even if you managed to get to my mail, you should have known that:

a) Balkan people NEVER write anything important in emails, we are paranoid by default;

b) even if you got my social number and all – i belong to a tiny nation where every second person is your cousin, frauds like that won’t work over here AND

c) unless you can curse in both Yiddish and Chinese, you can never pretend to be me.

Also, i am too shy to take any kind of remotely indecent pictures AND i’d never email anything which i would mind  seeing on the front page of a newspaper (a best-selling one, that is). To learn of the piquant details of my day-to-day life, most of which have to do with diligent studying and arduous weight lifting, you’ll have to wait for the sequel of my memoir to be published in an overpriced hard cover edition.

In case that you should repeat the attempt,  be warned that, albeit she usually takes some time to do so, but… karma inevitably proves that she too is a BITCH.

What shall i wish you at the end? Well, as the saying goes:

May your codpiece be the playground of a thousand mosquitoes and

may the leaves you recklessly used to relieve the pain turn out to be poison ivy! 

Yours (sic) faithfully,

me.