Dearest Jordana—*ahem* Jordan Taylor Hanson,
I write you on behalf of... well, myself. It seems that I owe you a few apologies. Sooo... you remember when I called you gay? I didn’t mean that.... I mean, wearing tight pants and scarves is fully your choice and I support you 100%! I do! And remember when I called you a girl? Well.... I didn’t mean that either. I’m SURE your cheeks are just NATURALLY that rosie and your lips just HAPPEN to have that cute light pink, lip glossy coloring and texture to them. Who am I to say they don’t? I mean, I’ve never met your parents to know what your gene pool comes from... correct? Correct. And do you remember when I said you were just a selfish little diva wanna-be? Well... okay, I sort of meant that... But please forgive me! I take back my words! Truly, you are a... rockstar. You are! Your moans and groans and breathy ways to express yourself don’t bother me as much as I complain about them! They’re actually... in some twisted, demented way... well, they’re okay. Please forgive me for being so angry about you having a prettier guitar than Isaac. I understand your need for this. Isaac is a beau—um... I mean... guitars are a beautiful thing. I know you don’t HONESTLY want to take over Isaac’s job.. Or Zac’s for that matter. I know you don’t REALLY want to be a one-man band. You... love your brothers, this I know.
Forgive me for my cruel jokes and unkind remarks.
You’re a... swell... guy.