Dear The Simple Life: Season 5,

Your first episode did not disappoint. Everytime I think about Paris and Nicole giving morbidly obese people colonics, I die laughing. Who allows these bitches to lube up their assholes on national television?! Un-fucking-believable. Sometimes I love cable television more than dry humping.

Do You Love It?
Dear East Nash,

Much like the guys I date, your dangerousness makes you appealing. Your sketchiness gives you character and i may be getting attached.

Loves it,
Dear Mr.Nice Guy,

I am highly impressed by your behavior. You take me out to dinner, call when you say you are going to call, open car doors for me, and text me to say nice things. Last night you even cooked me a delicious dinner and entertained me with your witty banter. How did you know that I love slabs of beef, especially in the form of a well-seasoned filet cooked to perfection?! Frankly, I am taken aback by all of this. Thank you for treating me so well and reminding me of what it is like to go on a date. I forgot.

And Thanks for Making Me Feel Special,
Dear D-cups,

Hello, where did you come from? Up until about a year ago you were dead set on staying a B. Don't get me wrong, the increase is much appreciated. However, if you don't stop causing me immense amounts of pain, I just might chop you off and hand you to a girl who needs them. Be nice to me, and in return, I'll have the boys be nice to you.

Dear Oldsters on the highway/road,

I'm really sorry I mentally curse you out every time I'm stuck behind your tortoise like car. I always get so angry when you're going 5mph in a 50 that I seem to lose all sense and don't stop to think that you're people too. Whenever I finally pass your Oldsmobile or Buick and see that you are, in fact, an oldster, I get really sad inside.

I didn't mean it.
Dear Corporate Life,

I thought I liked you, but after seeing 7+ people who sit directly across from me get laid off today and subsequently escorted off the premises with a sad-looking box of their desk tchotchkes, I now live in mortal fear of losing my job. Although my boss and my boss's boss have reassured me my job is fine, I have a mini panic attack whenever I think of being led into Conference Room 3 by the scary HR guy. For the love of all that is holy, please let me keep this job until I can find a rich husband or other means of financial support. Plus, I kind of like it, especially now that the loudmouths across from me are gone.

Don't send me to hell for saying that.
Dear Corbin's G-Spot,

Two words: lightning bolt. Yup.

Your Prostate Loves Me,
Dear Hot Actor/Writer/Waiter,

Thank you for making my very own Vegas commercial a reality. There is nothing more I wanted than a fantastic one night stand after a wretched breakup following an even more wretched six year relationship. Appreciate the kind attention paid to my bathing suit parts in particular.

Panties off to you sir,
Dear Paycheck,


Dear Girl Who I Knocked Off Her Bike,

Need I remind you that you are not a car? And that your bike has brakes? If you had remembered to brake for pedestrians, I would not have had to knock you off your bicycle using my suitcase in self-defense.

Right of way, bitch!
Dear Potential Employers,

I am about to be a victim of corporate restructuring. As of tomorrow I will be unemployed and on the job market. I have been working as a Financial Analyst the past two years, but would like something not in this industry because it's more boring than playing Mah Jong with my Grandma and her geriatric friends. How about advertising or marketing? I swear that I am a very smart and competent employee. I pretty much have the best analytical and quantitative skills that I know of and can explain detailed and complex analysis in written and verbal format for the lay person; my superiors can definitely attest. I'm sure these traits can transfer over to a more creative career.

I will be more than happy to provide you with my amazing resume and list of references.

About to start drawing unemployment,
Paul Graham
Dear Stomach Virus,

Our tryst last night at 2 a.m. was hot. There is nothing sexier than breaking out in cold sweats and projectile vomiting. Good times.

Dear Anne,

I don't know you, but I'm sure if I did we would be bff4eva. Thanks for validating me in my time of need.

Dear Adrienne,

I love your blog. I want to give you $100 to ease your financial troubles because you bring a smile to my face every day with your funny writing. Too bad I am such a cheapskate.

Dear Geoff(spelled Gee-off and I really hate that),

You are very awkward. I commend you for having the balls to walk over and strike up a conversation with me, but it is abundantly clear that you have issues. I much prefer people who are straightforward and comfortable with strike me as neither. Unfortunately, I'm a nice girl and don't believe in handing out fake numbers because i feel like any man who is brazen enough to ask for a girl's number should be reinforced. However, I am crossing my fingers that your memory is not what you claim and the numbers that I quickly sprouted off have been jumbled and long forgotten.

Dear Payroll,

Your lackadaisical attitude is making me want to walk over there and punch someone in the fucking face. Dont you know that I come from an upper middle class family and I do not enjoy financial distress?!

Love ya,
Dear Poverty,

You are giving me very much anxiety right now and I swear to God if anyone looks at me even halfway funny I will burst into tears. I like how I can manage to completely ignore financial strain until one day I notice I owe about $1,000 and the shit hits the fan. Like today, when I realized my internet/cable has been cut off because payroll fucked up last month and managed to overlook issuing me money and I can't pay my bill. I also have been driving around with the goddamn empty light on and eating macaroni and cheese for the past week. I now have 78 cents to my name and my check is still lost in the red tape. Do these people have no mercy?! I'm fucking POOR! Throw a bitch a bone here. I'm going to have to start downgrading to eating spices. If I don't get written a check in the next week with some weight to it, I will be forced to sell my eggs.

On the Upside, I'm Having a Skinny Week,
Dear Mom and Dad,

Thank you for never failing to remind me why I hate going home. Nothing says Memorial Day like some routine berating.

No Really, I Needed a Good Cry,
Dear Trey,

You are a true rager. I could have gone without you hurling twice in front of/on me today at the pool.

Love ya, Mean it,
Dear PELs (Comprable to DSLs),

Keep doing what you're doing.

Lickin and Lovin,
Dear Sex Toy Party,

You made me depressed. I know you were supposed to be fun, and I enjoyed making witty and hilarious commentary throughout the whole production, but on the inside i felt like a little girl who had just dropped her ice cream cone. While the other girls were talking about their conundrums with their either one-minute or marathon men, I was looking at the double sided dildos longingly. I was sad I couldn't nonchalantly complain about someone taking forever or being a 2-thruster. I couldn't even perk up enough to buy myself a new vibe.

No Couples Kama Books For This Girl,
Dear Gretchen,

Thank you for turning me back on to the musical masterpiece "In the Air Tonight." For awhile, I thought my favorite Phil Collins song was "Easy Lover," but your relentless discussion of "ITAT" has made me a believer. Because of you, I now listen to it approximately 80 times per hour on my barely-functioning iPod.

I can feeeel it coming in the air toniiight,

P.S. - Fans should check out the live version on YouTube. It's pretty much the best thing ever.
Dear Bloated Abdomen,

If I poke you with a pin, will you subside? Please?

You're fat,
dear uncle harold,

Don't think i didn't see you looking at my boobs yesterday. you sick me out, peering underneath your thick glasses to catch a glimpse of my cleave. dear god, this is why i refuse your hugs and deny your invitations to dinner. the next time it happens, i'm gonna call you out on it in front your wife, my aunt marie. go look at porn and stop looking at me.

you sicko!
Dear "Ladies" at Bar Charlotte,
While I appreciate the attention, if you could try to fall into the dateable range of girls, that would be much appreciated. As cool as college nights on Thursday are, if the 18 year old girl who groped me inappropriately while I was at the bar could not do that again, I would feel much less of a need to go to confession. My number is 203-470-9712, call me in 3 years, Ill buy you a drink. On the opposite end of the spectrum, if you are married, wear your ring out, cause when you don't and people find out, they just get bitter. I'm sure you enjoyed riding on the mechanical bull as from the conversation we had, your redneck husband hasnt given you an orgasm since you got married. I am just happy they were $1 Red Bull Vodkas that I bought for you and your orca-like friend.
Seeking normal girls,
Dear Bullshit,

You and I are like oil and water. I wish you would get out of my life. Thanks. And take all men with you.

Dear Laundry Lady,

Today I gave you a yellow bag of laundry, knowing full well that inside were 3 pairs of period-stained panties. I smiled and handed you the bag as I anticipated your response when you opened it. Soon you would be scrubbing the crotches of my underwear.

Don't Judge Me,
Dear Umbros,

I miss the days in middle school when I used to wear you; a different color for every day of the week. I have never played in a single soccer game in my life; however, you always made me feel that I could sprint down the field and score a goal with ease as long as I had you swishing between my thighs. Paired with Adidas Sambas (tongues folded down) and a Peace Frogs tshirt, I am pretty sure I never looked cooler or felt more confidant. It's too bad that middle schoolers worldwide have long since traded you in for slutbag clothes because they are truly missing out on the carefree attitude you provide.

It's time for a comeback,

Just when I start to believe in the legitimacy of the people in this world, you are there to bring me back and make me realize the massive amounts of white trash on God's green earth. I don't know whether this should make me feel better about myself or worse. To this same extent, I can't help but wonder why 70% of my graduating class is barefoot and pregnant in a pickup truck bed at a Nascar race somewhere; all of this according to your site. Am I just that much better than those in MHS class of 2002 or am I unknowingly classified as one of them? And for the love of all that is holy; please inact some sort of ban on ultrasound pics being put up as a user's main picture. This is just uncute. Especially when the paternal side to the whole conception equation is still up in the air.

Stay Classy,
Dear Best Friend,

Today, I was thinking about what a horrible friend I am. It is astonishing how much shit I have of yours. I don't think I have ever borrowed something of yours and returned it or at least ultimately taken it back again. Right now I have your leggings, your headphones, your strawberry necklace, lots of your books, and several other items which belong to you. I never told you I took your white cheerleading shorts with me to college. I also never gave you back your Third Eye Blind CD which you let me borrow freshman year of high school. I listened to it in the car today and thought of you. Shit, probably half the stuff I own is yours. Wow, I really suck. You might have a thing or two of mine, but it prob doesn't compare to the magnitude of my cleptomania. You're amazing for still always letting me borrow. You're the best friend I could ever ask for and I probably owe you about $500 worth of belongings.

Dear Gay Husband,

Only you would stand outside my dressing room and send my ass right back in because you said my boobs looked too saggy in the dress I was trying on. What will I do without you?! :(

Love ya,
Dear My Car,

Ok, I know you hate me right now. I know you probably don't want to speak to me. But listen, I am sooo sorry. I will be the first to admit, I am probably the most irresponsible person I know. I had no idea you were 5,000 miles overdue for an oil change 2 weeks ago. And on Friday, I swear to God, that car in front of me SLAMMED on their brakes leaving me no choice but to ram it from behind with you. You know it wasn't my fault that the car behind us ass-raped you either. I know today was the straw that broke the camel's back between us. I was ON MY WAY to fill you up with gas when I exhausted you to your limit. And I'm sorry I made all those people honk at us when I left you for dead in the middle of the road. I'm really beating myself up over all of this. Know that I feel terrible. I promise to try harder. I don't deserve you.

Please Forgive Me,

P.S. I'm gonna make this up to you. I WILL get the fetid bird excrement that you've been sporting for weeks washed off of you soon.
Dear Adrienne,

I'm glad you are sofa king cool and hot. My life would be a lot lamer if you weren't in it.

You're a great friend.

Ok. thanks,
Dear Lame-Ass Yuppie Family at Centennial Park,

Listen, I'm sorry my dog got off the leash and ran at you. Please rest assured that she is very kind-natured, while slightly dense and thinks everyone is her friend. There was no need to freak out and act like she was a grizzly bear trying to eat your nasty poor excuse for a lapdog. Truth be told, I laughed intensely when you all screamed, especially at you, dad. Your high pitched squeal was pretty fuckin hysterical. If you only knew. My sweet puppy gets scared of the bunny rabbits in the backyard. She was only trying to give you kisses. Maybe you shouldn't have given me that mean look. I may not be that nice, but my dog is.

It's not my fault my dog plays frisbee with me while yours stares at you like a dustball until you pick it up to walk 10 feet to the car.

My Dog Rules and Yours Drools,
dear 300 lb. woman at my gym,

Thanks for wandering aimlessly through the locker room completely naked the other day. i like how you chose to carry your towel in your hand instead of using it to cover up the wool sweater you call your vag. i really appreciate the way you sat your bare ass on the bench i sit on to change my shoes. i also thought it was complete class when you sat spread eagle and picked fungus out of your toes. i admire your confidence, i just wish you wouldn't look me in the eye like that when you saunter around buck ass naked.

keep it classy,
Dear Car Accident,

Thanks for setting me back a couple hundo because middle-aged women don't know how to let people over. I'm glad I was already in a financial bind prior to this three car collision.


P.S. This is my karma for laughing at other people's karma this morning.
Dear Toilet,

I feel as though i should apologize to you... over the past two weeks i've used nothing but paper towels to wipe my ass and flush down your drain. now you're having problems and i know it's my fault... will you ever be able to forgive me?

Too Lazy to Get TP,
Dear Ex Hookup,

a.) For the love of God, please learn how to compose an email. Its "you're", not "your".
b.) You have quite the audacity to proposition me a year later.
c.) Get off, forever.

Preciate it,
Dear Text Messaging Function on my Shitty Cell Phone,

You have singlehandedly been responsible for many nights of drunken hookups. Somehow, my trysts seem more illicit and juicy with you there to facilitate them.

God love ya,
L Wiz

P.S. - It never ceases to amaze me how I can take a photograph of my melon-like cleavage and send it to someone via your powers. Sex in the 21st century is a force to be reckoned with.
Dear Target Stores, Inc.,

Thank you for making me feel like a fashionista with your under-$30, yet still designer, clothing. It's hard enough having no money, but when you want to look cute, you always come through. I actually hate your "GO International" shit because lately it's been really uggo. But Isaac Mizrahi, I commend you for slumming out your line in a discount store AND Bergdorf's!

Your faithful shopper and paycheck-to-paycheck-er,
Laura H.W.
Dear Adam Levine from Maroon 5,

Please make sure you're totally STD-free from J.Simp's diseases before we have sex. It would also be nice if you could gain about 20 lbs., because as it stands now, you look like you weigh about as much as my right arm.

Call me when you're clean,

PS - You're still hot as fuck.
Dear Bottled Water From Walmart,

Why are you so infused with flavor? Thank you for making your water dance in my mouth.

Dear Med Students, Law Students, Doctors, and Lawyers,

Your career path is not overly appealing. No one cares. I would rather date a homeless guy if he had a good heart. Ok, that's an exaggeration. I might settle for a Type A personality over Meth use.

Not impressed,

P.S. But seriously, stop expecting my face to light up with glee and my legs to automatically spread when you tell me what you do.
Dear Summer,

I just realized you are going to kick ass, as you consistently do. Running around in the woods and waterskiing. Good thing I think I'm peter pan.

I live for you,
Dear KFC Famous Chicken & Biscuit Bowl,

You're making me fat. I know, I *could* stop buying and eating you, but it would be easier if you just stopped tasting so good.

Dear Summer,

I just realized you are going to be significantly less fun than I had hoped. Instead of running around playing with kids, I will be inside fulfilling the obligatory shit. Kill me.

Would Rather Be Playing Dodgeball,
Dear Sushi,

I want you really bad right now. Why is not half price night?!?!....Bust.

Gah, I'm broke,
Dear Cosmo,

Thanks for issuing a new magazine every month which poses to contribute something new about gynecological visits, sex positions, menstruation, or how to play with a guy's balls. After loyal years of reading, I'm starting to notice you never say anything new. Oh, and also I have no need to know how to make my man or his 'member' feel good considering I'm always man-less. But hey, I'm glad to know that if i ever meet one that i'm into and he's a Sagittarius, i should prob walk away because we cosmically clash.

Keep Fighting the Fight, I'll Probs Keep Buying,
Dear People Who Put Their Toddlers on Leashes,


Stop It,
Dear Chelsea Handler,

You are my absolute idol. The fact that you openly admit to being a drunken whore makes me hold a profound respect for you. Keep up the good work. And write more books about having sex with midgets.

Your Biggest Fan,
Dear People Who Constantly Break Up and Get Back Together on Facebook,

Thank you for making me feel more mature than you. Knowing my life is much less dramatic boosts my esteem. I hope you know that newsfeed makes you look like complete morons. Fight your battles elsewhere instead of in a public forum in which every person you have ever known/seen/heard of (whom you've undoubtedly friended) can see and make fun of you (especially when those hearts show up when we log in next week signifying your public reconciliation). Also, it's pretty lame to untag every picture and delete every wallpost that links you to your ex in drunken malice. God forbid he/she did something really fucked might as well do the ultimate and UNFRIEND their ass. That'll show 'em.

Facebook is for Lovers,
Dear hot Aussie male,

Thanks for validating the fact that I am hot in a specific time of need. And for telling me within the first 2 minutes of meeting me that you loved my breasts. Men should take some pointers from you, cut out the bullshit, say exactly what they mean more often, and grow an Aussie accent.

Maybe you can go down under later,
Dear new Lilly baithing suit,

In a season where body image is everything, you have turned my life around. Your pink and green hues are the icing on the cake of sun-filled days. I feel hotter knowing that I have you.

Thanks a mil,
Dear middle court, backside tennis player at CGA,

You, my friend, are luscious. Thank you for deciding to not wear a shirt. Your anatomy is quite nice. I couldn't help but notice your perfectly proportioned pecs, chiseled abs, delicious deltoids, bulging biceps, and fantastic forearms. I also appreciated that your shorts weren't too short, too long, or too baggy...they were just right. I could see just enough of your quads to know that me likey, and they provided just enough outline of your ass to know that I want to grab it. I don't even know what to say about your face and your hair, except holy-undo-my-pants-please. To pull my pants down even further, all of this yumminess was coated with a really nice tan. You're tall, dark, and handsome. While I realize that it is against the rules to fraternize, I am totally free to mind-fuck the hell out of you... and for that, you are def the best mind-fuck of the week. Congrats.

Wet over you,

P.S. Not to mention, you kicked the other guy's ass. There's nothing like imagining a good athelete man-handling you... ahh.

P.S.S. I think this is a good start to our relationship.
Dear Foolish Girl,

Maybe next time you exit your car you should take the keys out of the ignition before powerlocking and rashly slamming the door behind you.

Get a Grip,

P.S. If you're gonna pull that shit, don't do it on graduation day when approx 874 passersby can gawk.
Dear Shirts,

I like to wear you as dresses.

Dear Mom,

At this point I am very aware that I am due for an emissions check and that my car has a recall on it. There is no need to remind me of this by calling me every morning at 8 a.m. for a week straight. Woman, you are relentless. God love ya.

Dear Life,

Can you please stop men from lying about being engaged/married/dating? It will make me appear a lot less slutty.

Dear Life Post-Undergrad,

I've decided you are much harder without a cheerleading skirt on.


You are nothing like the show on MTV! Why did you have to fuck with me for all of those years?!?!? Ok, you win...........can I go back to college now?

Dear Life,

If you were fair, every person who ever got dumped would be the first to be dating someone new. Unfortunately, you're a bitch and its always the opposite. More salt to the wound bc you are a ruthless whore.

Dear Cute Black Summer Dress which is Far Too Short,

Thank God I finally found you today. I've been looking for you for a month! You sneaky bitch.

Get on me,
Dear Kieran's Nose,

Sorry for breaking you in a celebratory rampage. hope we can still be friends.

Dear Mandals,

I was not aware until very late in the game that our friends were trying to set us up. I found your solo dance routine for me very humorous. I found it all the more hilarious that your justin timberlake wannabe moves put you on crutches. Maybe if you were wearing more supportive footwear you could have spared yourself an injury. Don't they teach that in med school?

Easy Killer,
Dear Hot Dad,

Thanks for making me lose faith in the male gender. You not only hit on me a few weeks ago, but did it again today, only this time, your wife was in the proximal vicinity. Wow. I'm glad you don't have qualms about giving me the eyes when it is obvious you are married with two beautiful children, one very sick in the hospital. I pray to everything that is holy my husband won't be tempted to undress candystripers with his eyes while our child is on a ventilator. If that were the case, I might just have to kill someone.

Sketched Out,
Dear Daisy,

Nice move waiting 2 minutes before we get to the house to puke in the brand new car after an hour long drive.

Adrienne, Ashley, & Justin
Dear Butterlove,

Backhair is no excuse. Play like a champion.

I still love you,
Dear Paris,

Don't drop the soap.

Love ya, bitch,
Dear To-Do List,

Why did I rape you so bad today? Post-coital smoking never felt so good.

Dear blogging after coming home from the bars,

You make me feel lame. I should not be blogging at home alone....I should be contributing to a blog from some hussy's home.

Alone and confused,
Dear A,

Cut the blogging apprentice some slack. Not everyone who goes and blogs drunk at 2 in the morning wakes up two hours late with makeup on their face. Some of us just can't think straight and mess up

Dear Jon,

If you want people to be your friend, you could at least get the web address correct. It's, which is rather irrelevant, but a valid question I ask myself periodically.

Dear readers,

Not everyone I hang out with is a total creep. At least I hope not.

Will you be my friend?
Dear Parvati from Survivor,

Call me.

You're hot,
Dear Joey,

You didn't actually date Parvati from Survivor. The fact that you created a Facebook profile for her using stock photos you got off the internet somewhere does not prove anything. I must say though, I'm somewhat impressed with your ability to not sound like a lonely douchebag when you wrote on my facebook wall. What's more exciting yet is your pending blackballing from the fraternity. Some people don't like blackballs, but I'm kind of an arrogant prick, and I relish every chance I get to put myself above other people. Good luck in life, and thanks for the baseball tickets.

Dear A,

Maybe sitting on the couch for hours wearing a sheet, smelling like a bar, and writing on your blog isn't the most productive use of your time.

Just a suggestion,
Dear Tact,

I could benefit from a little bit slash a lot bit more of you in my life.

Dear 44(liar)year-old Gay Man who Paid for My Jaegerbomb,

Thank you for complimenting my smile and then following it with a valuable life lesson: People with good dental hygiene have clean genitalia. I think you're on to something there.

I floss regularly,
Dear cheeseball guys,

I feel really bad for being such a bitch to you, especially since you are so nice. I wish you would realize there is value in just acting like yourself. No need to state your qualifications. I'm sorry for being rude. Shame on me.

Dear Bad Choices,

Due to you, I woke up with make-up all over my face 2 hours after i was supposed to be at work. Oops?

Dear characters on LOST,

Every time I watch your show, I can't help but think about how bad your breath must be. You've all been on that island for 90-something days. How can you stand making out with one another?

Dear "Deadliest Catch",

You are a true testament to the idea that you can make a reality show out of anything. How is it possible that I can be engrossed for 60 straight minutes with a program about catching alaskan crabs?

Dear alcohol,

It's been so long. I miss you.

Dear lymphnodes,

Currently, two of you are the size of jellybeans. Not normal.

Dear Britney & Justin,

Make this happen:

Desperately Waiting,
Dear Paul-Wall,

Don't worry. One of these days you will find a girl who isn't a complete psycho. Who knows, you may even find a chica who doesn't call you every hour and cry when you don't spend time with her every night. Also, if you're lucky, you could possibly find a girl who doesn't want to castrate you and make you her bitch. The dime you find will love your balls, want you to hang out with your friends without her, and not need to talk to you on a daily basis. Hang in there. In the meantime, keep blacking out so you can withstand those hoes long enough to use them for a piece.

Dear Fear of Commitment,

Where in the fuck did you come from? So what if several of my good friends have gotten engaged slash married and some have even had kids. This shouldn't scare me. We are real people now with real people jobs and real people bills. I'm 23 going on 24; it might be time to sack up and actually stay in a relationship longer than 5 months. At this rate I will never get married and have 2.5 kids, an SUV, and a house in the 'burbs.

I long for you,

Post Script: Sike! I'm having way to much fun blacking out every weekend. Serious long term relationships can lick my testes.
Dear Justin,

Bottoms up.

Dear Paul,

Your inability to work well under pressure makes me hope, for your sake, that you never had any aspiration of making it in the porn industry.

Dear people in the library,

Just because I just yelled out "FUCK" doesn't mean you need to stare. It didn't feel good when I slammed my knee on this desk. It really hurt.

Turn around,
Dear Britney,

You look pretty bangin' these days. Your abs are rockin'. Your ass is smokin' in those boyshorts you wear as pants. I can't wait for your hair to grow out.

I have a girlcrush on you,
Dear Life,

Thank you for providing me with a multitude of people who have shattered my (once unyielding)self-confidence this school year. It's great to have constant reminders that I'm not as hot, competent, or intelligent as I think I am. I guess this is what I get for being a cocky bitch all these years. But sheesh, was it necessary for that 9-year-old to tell me that I looked sickly this morning in my state of perfect physical health?

Fuck all the haters-I'm tired of this shit,

P.S. If I was friends with Miss America, I might try to point out her flaws, too.