Dear Finding Three LONGASS White Hairs On My Head In The Bathroom At Work,

Please, no!!! Don't ruin my youthful chocolaty brown locks. Oh God, why is this happening?!?!

Vowing To Stop Worrying Sofa King Much And Smoking More Pot,

P.S. If one of you pop up on my downtown, I am throwing myself into a pit of cobras.
Dear Facebook,

Okay so maybe there are quite a few pictures of us online, maybe we do tend to hog everyone's photo albums with our hugging, posing and goofy faces. But excessive? No way. If people didn't want hundreds of pictures of the two of us, they would stop taking them. It's not our faults we are pretty.

Completely obsessed with each other,
Shameless and Unknown Latino
Dear Hormones,

WTF? There I was, driving down the street on my way to work, cursing the PT Cruiser in front of me for driving so slowly (seriously, only douchelords drive PT Cruisers), when I passed a kid in a wheelchair being helped onto the short schoolbus. Next thing I know I'm sobbing into my coffee cup about the poor sweet little handicapped kid and, in a selfish display of emotion that proves everything comes back to me, my own sad lack of companionship. Thank God I hadn't put my makeup on yet or I'd be rockin the raccoon look, and everyone would be making comments about me partying too hard last night. The only party I had last night was between me, the engaged coworker, and the telephone wires-- and a contributory factor to my hormonal anguish.

Do me a favor and just stop completely. At least try not to attack me when I see the limpy guy who works in the next room over. I don't need to be explaining to HR why I suddenly broke down in tears when I saw an old Asian man limping across the parking lot.

Still a little weepy,

Dear David Beckham,

Thanks for starting my day off just right. Dump Vicki and marry me.

Dear Female Ejaculation:

I swear to the baby Jesus that I could have shot someone's eye out, a la "Christmas Story" just now, had I not been alone. Jesus Christ but detachable showerheads are the fucking bomb.

So okay w/ my triple digit water bill,

(Note to self: set aside fake lottery (ie, shoe) money to give self if a man ever actually makes this happen.)
Dear Brit,

Hell has frozen over and I believe we're finally upon the cusp of your comeback. Just heard your new single, "Gimme More" (thanks, Perez!). While it's not the best song I've ever heard, you start it out by saying "It's Britney, Bitch", therefore, forcing me to like it immediately. It's also extremely erotic sounding (I expected nothing less) and you talk about being in crazy sex positions. If you could just stop acting so whacko, run that flub off your ass, and sell your children to someone more responsible, I will gladly rekindle my girlcrush on you and lez out to the max.


P.S. Please make a bangin video to go with this in which you are pretty much naked and panting (so, the usual).
Dear Fantasy Football,

I went from enjoying football on the surface for 21 years of my life, not knowing anything, to becoming absolutely obsessed with you. Remember when I drafted Jerome "The Bus" Bettis last year as my first pick? Oh the jokes didn't stop. Then I couldn't wait to watch multiple games on television while having my internet access nearby to enjoy the stats popping up on every other game going on in the country. You've caused enough change where I remember my father asking last Christmas "where the hell have you been all my life?" On the other side of this, you've also given me something to actually get mad at my best friends about. No, they didn't "draft" those players, they TOOK them. A-holes.

Cock-blocking myself,
Dan in DC
Dear sex (oral and otherwise),

I am really struggling lately with the fact that I am seemingly unable to engage in you without some sort of an emotional attachment involved. Maybe it's solid morals or high standards, but the more I think about it, I can't decide whether this is a blessing or a curse. Due to my firm commitment to my j-o-b I cannot be bothered exerting the time and energy that it takes to commit to an actual human being. Hence, a schedule that's extremely condusive to a slew of flings and one-night stands. However, not being able to distinguish between my vag and my heart makes this nearly impossible and leaves me longing for peen more than ever. I wish I could cease this typical female behavior and just slut it out for once in my life. But would this only be opening an even bigger can of worms?

Buying a vibe,
Emotionally Anonymous.

Dear Kevin The Cabdriver,

You are a beautiful, beautiful man. Are you sure you don't feel like reproducing with me?


P.S. Please don't get mad at me for posting this.
Dear Table I Am Trying to Edit in Microsoft Word,

I'm in a cranky enough mood this morning as it is, what with coming in here and finding you on my chair to be inserted into the document I wrote yesterday. But so help me, if you don't start allowing me to make your rows smaller so I can fit all of you onto the same page, I'm going to have a meltdown. And the ensuing scene will result in me losing/quitting my job, and I'll have to move to Washington to help Dan in DC clean Hillary's pool. I have spent the last ten minutes futilely trying everything I can think of to edit you, and you won't budge! It's like you're an Apple product and think your users are too stupid to be trusted, so you won't listen to what I'm saying.

[Redacted] you, Bill Gates,
Dear Owen Wilson:

It makes me really sad to think that a wedding crasher could come to this. (So I don't know how to make the word "this" be a link. Get off me.) While I find your brother more physically attractive, you are CLEARLY the funny and interesting one, which is INFINITELY hotter. But seriously, heroin? And over Kate Hudson? REALLY?!?! The girl is like 11 and was married to what I'm pretty sure was Bigfoot with a guitar. I can't bear to think you might actually not be cool times infinity and instead might be a total douchebag. I mean, I'd totally pick Vince over you, but I'd still pick you over your brother. That counts for something, right?

Keep your chin up,
Your biggest fan (okay, just a fan)

Dear God,

Look closely to understand what is so funny about this picture....

Still Laughing,
Dear Hillary Clinton aka Hill-dog,

If I was running for president, I'd have my secret service guy take part in the pool cleaning. Not a dude who did 13 years for attempted murder and a recent college grad who is in desperate need of a real job (me).

Who lives across from the Danish Embassy? Not the future President. That's who.

Dan of DC
Dear Dear Life,

I'm wary of your design changes. They're too sudden and radical, like when a sexy girl in high school swears off bright, carefree colors and goes heavy goth. Still pretty, still intriguing ... but not something you take home to your mother, ok?

But speaking of things on the web not to be taken home to mother: I'm thinking more and more that I need to see this F'Book page A has going.

Ghost in the blog, help me out?

Dear This Commercial,



Dear Brit,

Please. God. No.

Dear L.Lo,

Probs NOT a good idea to get caught doing drugs and having sex in a toilet stall with another patient while in rehab.

You were so cute in Freaky Friday, what happened?! Oh yea, you were raised by that crackwhore, Dinah, making it impossible for you to be normal.

You're In My Prayers Everynight, Firecrotch,
Dear High School Musical 2,

Why does this scene make me entirely more emotional than it should?

(the bridge part is my fave....DUH)

I'm gonna sing this song next time I break up with someone in a bittersweet teen drama sort of way.

God, I Love It,

P.S. If you just judged me for liking this, you haven't lived.
Dear Cheerleaders of the University I Attend as a Grad Student,

You have no idea how happy/crushed it made me to watch your practice as I walked out of the gym after desperately trying to get through a mile run and lift 10 lb weights (pathetic.). I hope you carefree, spirited-fingered people live it the eff up. My retired pom poms are truly envious and your secret biggest fan from afar. I would give anything to be back in those sparkling white nikes jumping around like a mad woman whilst yelling for a touchdown/basket. Instead, I'm totally paranoid that I'm getting mom arms.

Seasoned and Hating It,

P.S. Call me in a few years when everything that was once completely toned turns jigglier. I'll cry with you.
Dear Life Blog,

loving the makeover you sexy thang. You're a lot more attractive than my vag. (I appear to be (vag) image obsessed. help me.)

Could You Get Any Better?
Dear Mom,

Thanks for getting upset with me and pulling your best "yetta" impression before hanging up on me when I simply asked you why you didn't tell me you were taking Dad to the hospital this morning and I had to hear about it from the guys at work. I'm sorry, I didn't know that it was our boss's responsibiltiy to tell me that Dad was in the ER with more heart probs.

Desperately trying to become a psychic and/or mind reader to make your life easier,
Your Daughter
Dear Vag,

I feel you should look more attractive, no?

Lovin' you anyway,
Dear Self,

You are so freakin' cute and adorable. You don't do shit all day and your office LOVES you. Why? Because you are so freakin' cute and adorable.

It's Easy Being Me,
Dear College Football Season:


Hook 'em:
Dear Charlotte,

I am becoming increasingly aware of the fact that you are being infiltrated by yankees and I am not thrilled about it. As a Carolina girl by birth, it angers me to see that all of a sudden a plethora of guidos have changed their views of the south from seeing us as backwards, cousin marrying folk to now finding it an acceptable place to settle down due to the kind hearted people and the marvelous weather. Duh.

The yankees have brought with them the crazy drivers, harsh accents, an affinity for New York sports teams, a hankering for curse words, and worse- their offspring.

The last time I checked, you were the Queen City, not Brooklyn. I'm just trying to look out for your best interests. Have you considered the Great Wall of Charlotte?

I mean, whatever it takes.

Dear semi-attractive (but getting less attractive by the moment) construction worker,

Okay, seriously. Do your job. There is only room for one creepster in this office and that spot is already filled by the boss's son, Creepy McCreeperson Jr. He has provided me with enough amusing/puzzling/frightening stories for a lifetime, so you better just step off.

I'd hate (love) to see you two fight it out,
Dear semi-attractive construction worker,

Your strangely direct and unwavering stare, while flattering, is majorly creeping me out. Please for back to hanging up the new flat screen TV directly opposite my desk so I can do even less work during the week.

Dear "Resolute",

Good job redeeming yourself by bringing it back to your dong.

Dear Random Erections:

At first I thought I would keep a running tabulation and present your collective number to my girlfriend upon her return from her travels (i.e., "See how much I missed you?!?")

But now that number has become somewhat embarrassing, in that it's probably statistically impossible to have that many consecutive boners from the same memory prompt.

Plus, I'm a little sore.

Give it a rest,
Dear B & R (and all those troubled by U.S. Americans):

Netflix "Idiocracy" by Mike Judge and have yourself a gallows-humor pity-party. Seriously. It's a laugh-a-minute, cry-every-10-minutes dark vision of our future.

Tangentially ... an interesting note about the phrase "U.S. Americans": It may actually mean something. At least when I worked abroad, "Americans" standing in for "U.S. Citizens" seemed to piss a lot of people off. Since Canadians and Mexicans are (North) Americans, Brazilians and Peruvians are (South) Americans, et al.

Was that boring? A: Should I go back to talking about my body?
- Resolute
Preface: Yesterday I was bored at work and talking to a friend about how I need to meet an emotionally intelligent with her persuasion I did the unthinkable and posted on craigslist (yes, i'm embarassed of myself, but it was done mostly in jest. get off me. desperate times...). I knew these would make good material.

Oh, and don't go looking for it. It's already been deleted.

Dear "Normal" Guys On Craigslist,

Here are some things you should not say when trying to woo a woman:

From an e-mail entitled "I have a blackhead on my nose I can't shake!!!" : Howdy, For starters I am tall, dark, and moderately handsome (I am capable of much more depending on my makeup)
...You can stop there.

This is great...
"i know you are normal like me but sometime i want to be crazy but in the good way so iam very sportman ,very funny and smart you need to know me so anyway this is my address email me and let me know what do you want to know about me bye bye ah iam hispanish this is a proble memfor youCharla con tus amigos en lĂ­nea mediante"

This is my fave -
"I moved to Nashville a few months ago for a great job opportunity managing an annual budget over $800M for one of the companies HQed here (I'll share later if you give me the chance)"..blah blah blah (i'm important) blah blah blah ... "Lately, much of my free time has been spent remodeling my home and studying for the GMAT and LSAT (I'll explain why both later)."..I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany...."I go running 2-3times a week usually - and the gym as frequently." ...GOD, YOU'RE AMAZING!!!

"Yes, I'm here in this world waiting to cross-over to the next world where I'm told 100 virgins will be waiting for me." - W.T.Fuck?

"im not the guy you would meet in a bar (because i dont go to bars not my thing)", bye.

"I work in the IT field as a software developer and I also own a webcast content business". ...I am not letting you videotape me in the shower so you can broadcast it via the Internet

"I never really liked the club scene,and I hate abnoxious drunk women!" ...Really? Well, I'm the most obnoxious(starts with an "o") drunk girl you'll ever meet and everyone but you loves it. douche.

I am laid back, I enjoy a few drinks with friends, my favorite drink would be either wine or scotch. I like gardening and cooking." forgot to say you like getting it up the ass.

"HI, great post.... I am a little older at 38 but always date younger." ...sick.

The Search Continues,
Dear B,

Sorry, you are right: I mixed up median and mean (aka "average"). My bad. However, in my defense, it's a relatively minor error--- one which ultimately doesn't detract from the main point, even if it is slightly embarrassing to me. In the meantime, rest assured that although Miss Teen South Carolina is probably better looking than I, I currently am on the phone with a guy who is busy telling me how incredible my body is. And just last week my boyfriend told me that if I ate p**** as well as I sucked dick, I'd be an amazing lesbian.

Cheers back,

PS I appreciate your concern for my ability to locate the US on a map. Please know that I can, in fact, find America on a map. I can even find Canada and Mexico, too! Mexico's the one on top of US, right??

Dear R,

Sorry to hear that you're overwhelmed by the sheer volume of dipshits as measured by crappy IQ and SAT scores. Just make sure you review your 4th grade math before you sit for the SAT again: the median score--not the average score-- is when half score lower and half score higher. Incidentally, can you locate America on a world map? I know, I know, The Iraq and South Africa need to study too, I've started a collection already. But in the mean time, here's to hoping that you're insanely good looking and give great head.

Dear BC Powder,

Is it just me, or are you not working as well as you used to on my hangovers? (yes, i said hangover on a TUESDAY....mondays can be killers)

Dear Best Conversation Ever,

18 yr old Girl: How old are you?

Me: 25

Girl: Wow!! You look really good!

Me: Uh.. thanks.. I have to go now...

Dear America,

As if we need proof that you are full of idiots, I give you Exhibit A: SAT scores
are falling again.(;_ylt=AnJc8EPxg6K40cv3y6H.UVWs0NUE ) to an average barely above 1000 -- and last I checked, you got 400 points for getting your NAME right. Then there's Exhibit B: Miss South Carolina needed a second chance to answer a simple question (;_ylt=AhE.lYW1vrT..h0depFN7ys0NUE) because she screwed it up so badly the first time.

Normally, the fact that she's been accepted at an institution of higher learning (and I don't mean University of Phoenix) would make me weep tears of sadness for the future. But I'd chalk it up to an aberation. Now that I know there are thousands of kids scoring UNDER ~1000 on the SAT (remember, an average score means half score lower), having taken the test thinking they were college-bound (minus Mainers--read the article), I know the truth: we have reached our capacity of stupid. And most of them will be voting in the 2008 presidential election.

So, either start administering IQ tests at the borders, or this girl will be taking her high SAT score and IQ and moving to Denmark.

Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of dipshits,
Dear Ann Taylor (aka "Forever 35"),

I will never shop at your store. NEVAR!

Forever 29,

Dear Nicole,

You might be paler than me.

Xo Xo
I'm such a Brat
dear mahjong---

why are you so addictive? I have so much to do today and the mental stimulation you provide is proving to be too much for all of my much-needing to do work....seriously, I have actual people workng for me.

Dear Person I Just Insulted,

So lemme get this straight...

Dead baby jokes = funny
Retarded baby jokes = not funny

Well excuuuse me,

Dear Mandy,

Orgasm looks onstage... HOTT

I'm such a Brat...

PS I totally see your bra...
Dear Inability To Have Just One Adult Beverage,

Yes well, here we are....mmmk you are really starting to become a problem. All of the sudden (okay maybe not all of the sudden), I've turned into that girl. You know, the friend you can always count on to be saying/doing ridiculous things within 20 minutes of putting the first sip to her lips. You actually are very entertaining, I'll give you that, but when it comes to being around people that I would like to maintain a proper decorum around, you don't help. Actually you make the problem infinity times worse. So, if you could do me a fave and team up with Trying To Be The Drinking Champion and back off for a little, that would be much appreciated.

Also, if you could help stop me from making passes at cabdrivers, talking to guys who look like they lure preteen boys in chatrooms for fun, and showing my panties/boobies to everyone alive, that would be a nice perk.

Please Review This Request Under Strong Consideration,
Dear Guy In The Parking Lot Giving Me The "I'm Watching You" Signal Because I Was Backing Up While Talking On My Cellphone,

Ok, you know what, asshole?! Don't hate me because I'm pretty.

Get Off Me,
Dear Basset Furniture,

When I ordered my new, beautiful furniture from you, did you think that I was merely screwing around? That I just felt like opening an account and wiping out some of my savings? That I didn't actually WANT the furniture? Well I want what I paid for, and I wanted it 2 weeks ago when it was SUPPOSED to be delivered.

Tired of eating on the floor,
Dear Attraction to the Opposite sex-

why am i attracted to men with homosexual tendencies and like thos ekinda things?? (finger up you know where?) is this normal, or am i into dating men who like it up there? To all Dear Life readers-----anybody else out there like this(guys) or have guys that like this?

Dear X's Personal Assistant of Indeterminate Sexual Orientation (Part THREE),

I am now almost certain you are gay -- hooray! Today you waltzed in from lunch with a Louis Vuitton tote and some KILLER shades and I almost squealed with glee. Let's be BFF! I totally forgive you for staring at my tits (you prob just wish you had a pair like mine), and I found out yesterday that you just got Lasik, so I'm really sorry I said anything about that wonkeye of yours -- it's really not so bad. I've been waiting so long for a gaybestfriend -- let's go to happy hour every day after work and talk shit about people!

You Rock That Salmon-Colored Shirt Like Nobody's Business,
Dear Friend Who Recently (and Conveniently) Moved to Nashville:

Would you please get with the program and go try to be friends w/ A? I find it hard to convince her I bought tix to come see you BEFORE I read her blog and that really I'm not stalking her or trying to be BFF by being crazy funny and regularly posting to Dear Life (I also recommend it to new readers). I even carefully read the mistakes of the other girls who have tried to be BFF, so I won't creep her out or get shot down if perchance we meet.

Seriously, the least you could do is work that angle, since I spent my hard-earned (okay, regular-earned) money to come see you.

Help me remember not to wear my hair in a banana clip when I meet A,
Dear Summer,

You cannot be over. Here is why:

I never got to (a)go to the beach, (b)see an outdoor concert (a summer must do), and (c)hook-up in the pool.

I'm sorry, I can't accept that this is done.

Don't Go,
Dear YouTube,

Please don’t ever stop being so awesome.

Never trusting a Klingon,
Dear camera phone,

Thanks for being a total uberdouche today on set. The one picture I take with you HAD to just fuck up. Eat a dick and rot in camera phone hell. I bet the iPhone wouldn’t have messed up so badly. GRRRRRR.

And yes, that is Snoop Dogg.

Hating You,

Dear Muscles,

There was a time when we would work out regularly, and all you would do is acquire some really nice tone. As I enter my early 30's, you're starting to add mass and turn into honest-to-goodness beefcake. That's fine, my girlfriend digs it. Though I guess some other people do, too.

The gay dudes on the street are easily ignored.

But I just spent a couple hours with a friend in her apartment and barely escaped with my fidelity intact. She was wetting her lips, staring me down with eye contact, and I think I even caught her touching herself once during a decidedly un-sexy part of the DVD.

Muscles: Is this how it's going to be from now until I fall off, looks-wise? 'Cause it's kind of horrible. Do I have to be friends with just men now? I don't really like hanging out with "the guys" and never have. Women rule. (Perhaps lesbians are the answer?)

This girl didn't even know about the real bigness,
Dear Life,

Why do you suck so much all of a sudden? Less than 2 months ago, I was dating the love of of my life, I had a job that was annoying and boring but secure, and I was looking better and better due to exercise and eating lots of fresh veggies and fruit and downing multivitamins every morning. I was looking forward to starting grad school, I was quitting smoking, getting healthy, and everything was fucking perfect. Then.... I got dumped. And then fired. Since then, I've stopped working out, I've stopped eating anything healthy, and I've spent my days on the couch watching TV on DVD and chainsmoking while getting high or drinking beers by myself. My whole social circle is screwed up because everyone broke up with everyone else, I can't go to all my old haunts because the EX might be there, and my self esteem is shattered. WTF? Listen, you need to just calm down and take it easy here. You've already proven yourself to be a raging bitch, but kicking a girl while she's down is just plain wrong. So, throw a dog a bone and get me hired, or send me a new boy, or SOMETHING FOR FUCK's SAKE YOU FUCKING CUNT. Thanks for listening.

Life sucks,

P.S. I am glad that I've gotten so skinny due to the loss of appetite and complete apathy when it comes to obtaining food. Thanks for that, at least.
Dear This Guy,

What exactly do you plan on doing with the stumps? Maybe you could like slather them in vaseline then have her paint your bod with them? Just a thought. Could be fun.

Loving It,
Dear Boys In My Life,

Stop turning me into a crazy person. Minus you, I'm actually a very level-headed and reliable individual with a multitude of other great qualities. Unfortunately, that gets overshadowed by your incontestable ability to drive me up the wall. Go away. I miss the ween, but I miss my sanity harder. Thank you.

Love Always,
dear queen sized bed,

why are you slowly getting a dent down the middle where i sleep every night? oh, b/c i'm going to be single forever? that's what i thought.

hates it,
Dear Rachel,

Um, I hope people know I'm joking when I act like I'm the most amazing person on the planet. Unfortch, you seem pretty serious.

Dear Posts,

Thank you... for I now have something else to read at my oh so boring, not going anywhere, is this really what the real world is like job. You rank up there with Us Weekly, People, Facebook and whatever else I can do to pass the time. I am so glad you are now in my life!!

Xo Xo

PS I want to be friends with all of you... Thanks for the entertainment.
Dear Apartment Complex Management,

Apparently you guys are the fun police. Just got your notice that the pool is turning into too much of a *party scene* and alcohol will be strictly prohibited from now on.

Guess what?! No one gives a fuck that families want to use the pool without a bunch of drunk 20 somethings harassing them while blowing cig smoke in their faces. Last time I checked we were the majority, and majority rules. If I were you, I would watch your back because we just might overthrow your tyrannical ways.

AND as if this rule wasn't stifling enough, you had to throw in that if people are caught sneaking into the pool after dark (probably the coolest thing ever) then they may face termination of their lease.

lame. lame. lame.

Life would be infinity times better if ya'll weren't so damn uptight. I hate authority.
Dear Chinese Girl,

This cannot be good for your little budding body.

Your Poor Legs,
Dear Tink,

Remind me to never leave my future babies around you unattended. Or any babysitters for that matter. Maybe I'll just be one of those overprotective moms who perma-straps on her children like chimps. And change that kid's diaper! He's is gonna get diaper rash!

Bad girl.

Go To Time-Out,

P.S. Please don't tell me you're drunk and high right now.
Dear two year old baby I am supposed to be watching, (part two)

Like I said, supposed to be watching... I am proud to I have been ignoring you and spending my paying hours on the internet. Yet in return you decide it's fruitful to empty an entire bag of crackers on the floor and take another shit, again not on the toilet. This is where I get to tell you, bad boy go to time out... and then further to teach you how to say "shit diaper".After your parents hear that, I know I wont be back for another round of shit diaper changing.

After you finish your chicken, you're taking a nap chunky,
Dear Two Year Old Baby I Am Supposed To Be Watching,

Look kid, I am not your effin motha, learn to shit in a toilet already. If you can talk as much as a four year old, and weigh as much as one too, pretty sure you can pull down your pants to take a shit. You know how to do everything else, how is it so hard to take a doo on your own? Is it because your family is excessively overweight and it just runs in your genes to be lazy?

Still regretting getting up at 6 am for your ass,
Dear Nice Boys,

Why are you always complaining that girls don't like you. I like you.

Stop chasing after bitches,
Deear Sorbiriety:

You are hightly overrated. Fortunately for me, the wedding reception I jsust went to had free wine.b eer and I drank a lot of wine. So I drunk IMed the engaged cowekorer and said I wiasnted to say inappropriate things to him; I called the estranged boyfriedn nad said I siwhed he ploved me; and I drunk dialed bthe freind with beenefits to tell him bhappy birthaday and that I hoped he was thikning of me, haha.

The best wpart???? M y phwhole family was witness to the inebriatedion. Inebriation. I do-si-do-ed with my bro, wished the bride good luick like twenty millino times, and didn't care. My mom even joined the congan line. Ergo: you are overrrated!

Um, what? I shoudl be passed out now,

PS My darling A, I love you.
Dear Manpanties,

Something about you is so attractive to me. On the right body, I'm pretty sure I could rip you off with my teeth in under 13 seconds.


P.S. Dear American Apparel, Get a new underwear model. THANKS.
Dear Attractive and Unavailable Male Friend,

I kinda want you. And I know its my fault that your not already my boo. I totally cock-blocked myself that time last summer when you asked me to come over and watch a movie with you. I didn't even know girls could cock-block, but here I am. Living proof. Anyway, you should remember that this is how our conversation went:

You: "I miss you. You should come over and watch a movie at my place."
Me: "Sounds cool. Who else is coming?"
You:"Uh, no you want someone else to come?"
Me: "Sure! You could invite Blahblahblahblahblah (that's the sound of me planting my foot
firmly in my mouth)."

And even later that night, you asked me to stay after my accessories to cock-blocking (a.k.a. 'friends') left. I said no, I had work the next morning. Because last summer's crappy office bitch job was way more important than us getting into each other's respective pants. My bad. Seriously. What's worse is that's not the only time I did something like that to you.

Fast forward to a couple nights ago. We were driving around town heading back to your place when you brought up the funny story of how one of your friends lost his V-card during a drunken night with a hot and anonymous frat-mattress sort of gal. Then you said you kinda regretted having a girlfriend (who I've learned from several reliable sources, look a hell of a lot like me) because you feel like you're missing out on spontaneous, sexy opportunities. You followed this gem with "Not that I'd cheat on my girlfriend, but..." and an awkward pause / significant look towards me.

Are you for real? You seriously can't toy with me like this. I'm sorry about screwing with you last summer, but one more hint of "I wanna have a no-pants dance off" from you and I'll be on you faster than Lindsay Lohan gets on a pile of blow. No lie.

Oh, and it'll be great meeting your girlfriend next week. Maybe I can call ahead so she and I can coordinate our outfits and see if you can tell us apart.

Looking forward to our mutual eye-f*cking in front of your gf,
Dear Life,

Can you please go back to when I used to think that sex meant two grown people bumped butts? You were a lot easier and more fun back then.

Stop Corrupting Me,
Dear Gmail Ads,

Stop trying to give me advice on "how to keep that man" or "how to avoid a break up". I know its because of all those emails i have been exchanging with my ex. But, If you actually cared , you would know that he's a son of a b**** and cheated on me! What kind of friend are you?

I like spam better,

Dear Connecticut,

I hereby denounce any connection I might have had with you via Interstate 95 North. Your state has bred the biggest asshole I have ever met in my life, and I believe it is purely your fault that the past six months have been an emotional mess. Your educational and parental systems are clearly not up to par with the rest of America, and I encourage you to seek help and guidance on this matter, because in all seriousness, human beings need to learn to treat each other as such. Hearts do not grow on trees, and your state has done a marvelous job of sending out a boy to crush mine.

Virginia does not love Connecticut, and do not try to convince me it's "not a big deal." We are through, and I will refuse to acknowledge you as a part of my continent until I feel you have learned your lesson.

I Pledge Allegiance To the United 49 States of American,

Dear Postsecret,

This one's my favorite.

Dear Miss South Carolina,

Beauty AND brains. Well played.

Loving It,
Dear Dad,

I can't believe you just called me only to ask me the rat's name in teenage mutant ninja turtles.

Splinter. Doy.

Your Best Lifeline,
Dear Spence from Da Hills:

You are clearly too pretty to be straight. Stop playing Heidi (aka your beard) and come out already.

Let's get fake engaged,
Dear Fried Dumplings:

I'm thinking that having oh...512 of you in one 24 hour period might be a bit much.

Planning to order more before the 10pm (OOO!!! 11 on Saturdays!) delivery cut off,
Dear Right Ovary,

Could you please stop hurting and making me in a bitchy mood? Oh, and stop making me break out too. The forehead zit isn't v.cute. Thanksssssssss.

dear fuck buddy,

what the fuck.

dear blue moon,

why did i just recently discover you? and how come i've been drunk off you the last 3 nights? and why do you make me do stupid things?

my stomach hurts,
dear erotic photo hunt,

where do you find your models? and how do i become one?

Dear Nashville,

This is crying shame.

Is it illegal if I don't charge?
Dear Best Friend's Baby That I Saw Stand All By Herself For The Very First Time Yesterday,

Coolest thing ever.

loves it,
Dear Cigs,

I have GOT to stop.

a.) you're not cute
b.) you smell bad
c.) you give me nicotine hangovers

Too bad you make me feel so cool.

Dear Abercrombie Shirt Boy,

That apparel was cool back when Lance Bass was straight. So pretty much never.

Furthermore, I will agree that sometimes SLIGHT product is a necessary evil on some hair types, but last time I checked using Crisco on your locks making them as crunchy as uncooked ramin noodles is never alright. You probs use that shit on your pubes too....

Dear Job That I Want To Get Hired For Really Badly,

I know we just met today but I really felt a connection. Didn't you feel it too? Didn't you feel how right we were for each other, my qualifications matching your requirements so perfectly? I've been looking for a job like you my whole life, please don't tease me baby. Look, I know I just got out of a relationship with my last job, but it didn't mean anything to me, I swear! Yes, I was fired, but I don't have any more feelings for my former company. I'm totally over it and I want to start a new relationship with you. I'm ready. Don't you want to take a chance on something that could be so special? Just think about it, cutie.

Looking forward to a second interview,

P.S. I also just got dumped recently, and I noticed some hotness floating around in your offices today while I was being shown around. let's throw some of that my way, what do you say?
Dear People Who Submit Entries,

Let's talk about more pertinent things than the how funny Heidi Montag's new song is with Spencer rapping in the background.

To my dorky co-worker,

Damn you for being so adorable. I am in the midst of a two month man moratorium and you are making it hard to complete. (I have a bet to win) Please stop using big words and sounding so sweet, innocent and smart. That always gets me hot.

Still stalking you from my cube
Dear A:

Can you PLEEEEASE bend the rules and let me reply to Roadhog? I want to meet this person who drives a Hummer but doesn't have a tiny peen. Also, I'd like to meet Santa and the Hanukkah Armadillo. Thanks bye!

Tree-Hugger who doesn't even own a car and therefore can't pull out at my own risk

PS Roadhog aka Teeny Peeny--when you pull out, I'm pretty sure I won't even know

Dear Amy,

Maybe it's about time you reconsidered rehab.


Dear Vanessa Hudgens aka Gabriella Montez from High School Musical,

Stop being so freaking hot and precious at the same time. I JUST saw your new video today with your boo, Zac Efron. Thinking about the fact you guys actually are an item and make out in real life (which is frequently caught by the paparazzi-THANK GOD) makes me want to squeeze ten puppies at once. "Zanessa" is seriously the best thing that's happened to me ever since Rachel Bilson and Adam Brody were together. Please never break up or I will just die.

And I'm obsessed with this video. It's borderline as good as Duff's "Stranger". Gosh, I'm such an undercover tween lover.


P.S. I just read in a magazine that in real life you wear the "T" necklace his character gives yours in the second movie. Can we switch lives?
P.P.S. Please inspire Justin and Britney to get back togeth.

Dear "Someone Who Cares About The Environment And Not Your Tiny Peen",

Not everyone who drives a Hummer has a small peen. Also, not everyone who drives a hummer is an enemy to the environment.

Pull out in front of me at your own risk,
Dear Shameless,

Where the hell do you work, and are they hiring?

Fill me in,
Dear co-workers,

Is there some ban on office noise that I missed a memo about? It is so painstakingly quiet in here that I could decipher your emails through keyboard clicks if only I knew morse code. What the hell is wrong with you people? Do you not enjoy socialization? Is it your goal to see how much of the day you can go through without communicating with your vocal chords? It has now becoming increasingly evident through my boss's long sighs that she hears the vibrating of my cell phone each time one of my friends texts me. On the upside, the seemingly vociferous sound of her spinning her chair around and click clacking out of her office affords me ample time to minimize this blog and stare productively at a random spreadsheet.

Dying to keep my cell phone on "Loud" so that the sounds of "Living on a Prayer" could feel this empty space,
Dear People Who Drive Hummers:

Yes, I AM judging you.

Someone who cares about the environment and not your tiny peen
Dear my office,

It makes me so happy that instead of judging/firing me for being such a mess, you feed me chocolate chip scones and let me listen to the radio and leave at noon.

Is this really what the real world is like?
Tickets to Concert on a Thurs. night: $20
Ridiculously Overpriced Drinks: don't even wanna think about it
Cover at Club: free (paid for by Rando Who Had a GF
More Ridiculously Overpriced Drinks: also free (see above
Almost Boning Rando Who Had a GF in Back of Cab (And By Cab I Mean Car With Our Friends Sitting Awkwardly In Front Seat): QUESTIONABLE

Dear Questionable Decisions,

I live for you.

Loves it,
Dear Sunlight,

Step off.

Hung to the over,

Dear Questionable Decisions,

I fully blame you for the fact that

A. I was late to work today

B. I am wearing last night's makeup

D. At some point last night I lost BOTH of my shoes, then recovered them and now they are creepily sticky

Thanks for making me a failure at my job AND life.

You make for some awesome stories though,


Dear A,

This is where I admit that I never watched 90210. I've never seen a single episode. So I don't know what Kelly Kawhatshername would do, but I'm guessing that she--and everyone else-- thinks I'm a horrible person going straight to Hell. And uh... according to the hickey on my neck, she's right. (Side note, did you know you could make out so hard you could get a hickey on your lip? I didn't until about twenty minutes ago when I looked in the mirror.) Anyway, the past 24 hours of being a homewrecking bitch have been fun, but the Irish-Catholic guilt is starting to kick in, and I've gotta find a turtleneck to wear in August before it beats me to a pulp. Which is to say, I'm turning the reins of doing inappropriate things with inappropriate men back to other on this blog who've burnt their brains out with too many drugs to give a shit.

I taught the albino monk in Da Vinci Code everything he knew about self-flagellation,
Dear K,

On Monday I asked you about your old piece of ass. You said you hadn't hooked it in months. As you sat on the phone with me and told me you were done with your fuck-buddy, I was calling that you would be 69ing that bastard by the fall. Turns out I was right on, except you didn't last til the end of the week. Some things are just magnetic. Just make sure to sit on his face so he can't talk too much.

Just Some Friendly Advice,

Dear R,

Kelly Kapowski would totally be calling you a homewrecker right about now.

Ask Yourself "WWKKD?",
Dear BET,

Thanks for this.

Dear Biological Clock,

Hi again, it's me. While I really wanted you to go away, I didn't mean for you to be obliterated so violently. It's just that when my 40-year-old male boss cries, it vanquishes all maternal extincts. I am once again barren of coos and giggles.


Dear Work,

I know I'm hot, but face it, I am just not going to DO you.


Dear Biological Clock,

Be gone. There is no room for you here on my cluttered desk or in my 300 SF apartment. Also, I am broke. How the hell can I afford you? Yes, your friends from back home have some of the most adorable little tikes on earth and it's so fun to play and smuush their faces. That doesn't make you welcome here, little ticker.

Think about it: Those babies are all super cute because both the mom and dad are super cute. I know I'm bangin' hot, but you really don't want to procreate with any of the babydaddies of late. If I have a troll baby, I might be forced to leave it in a trash can. And that's just wrong. Let me find a hottie, then after about 4 years of hot sex, you are welcome to visit me again when the role-playing games are geared more towards house play. Your hiatus is needed promptly.

Hiding at a local bar behind a bottle of scotch until you've vacated the premises,
Dear Disney's High School Musical,

I swore up and down I would never ever ever watch you, but lo and behold, this morning while enjoying my Special K Red Berries, you enraptured me. Fast forward to 2 hours later when I'm still completely enthralled by your frequent dance routines and cheesy lyrics. I feel like I am being converted to a new religion, the Zac Efron religion. I'm hooked to the sexual appeal of his androgyny. Now I understand why everyone wanted to have MJ's babies in the 80s.

Also, you make me wish that every hour, the characters in my life would break out in song and dance with the biggest shit-eating grins ever and doing jazz hands. Not to mention, I really miss the sweet innocence of young love. Why can't everyone be as kind and cute as you Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez?? Niceness is so underrated and you both have inspired me, you fictional characters, you. Please go hold hands, eskimo kiss, and sing more songs. I'll lay on my couch like a slob and pretend my life is yours.

Dear Ex-Boyfriend,

We dated during our freshman year of highschool, actually you were my first "real" boyfriend. And now you are back in my life, telling me how much you adore me and want us to get married. Maybe I had it right when I was 13 because you are f-ing adorable, want to be a chef and love to buy me and my friends drinks. How I miss getting caught making out during Drama Class.

See you in the costume loft?
Dear Fucking Insomnia,

You're getting really old, really fast. Especially when I have so much shit to do when I wake up. I don’t understand why you can’t hold off panicking me about my passport until morning or why I have to think about what happened to Susie from kindergarten at 5 AM.

I’m Bringing In The Drugs,

Dear My Hair,

You know, I don't like this damp and humid weather any better than you do, but would you please at least try to control yourself? I've tried to soothe you, hell smother you, with a variety of expensive products, but you will not be placated. The frizzy unkempt orphan child look is not very professional, nor is it conducive to molesting hot band boys or unknown Latinos. Please stop being such a temperamental bitch?

Tired of Ponytails,


Dear Allie From "Newport Harbor" Aka The New Laguna,

Can I just say how incredibly impressed I was by your behavior last night on my television screen? Seriously, you are my new idol. For once, you rich bitches are NOT trying to steal each other's boyfriends and be evil, conniving little back-stabbers. How amazing and classy of you to think of someone other than yourself and refuse Chase's advances while he has a girlfriend. You clearly have feelings for this boy, yet you are so confident you don't need to give in to his flirting. Why? Because you put yourself in his current boo's shoes and are too nice of a person to do that to someone else. Can EVERY laguna/newport/teen girl/20 something girl be more like you?

Way to put a halt to the petty drama...even if it was a for a fleeting second...and totally scripted.

Love Ya, Bitch,
Dear Self-Control,

I hope you enjoyed your temporary vacation this evening while I was making out with my (completely ineligible) coworker in public. Please realize that it was an unauthorized leave, however, and you will be working overtime henceforth to compensate for that little disappearance.


PS I will admit that you were not missed at all. However, you are still a vital team member and your contribution does not go unnoticed.

PPS As a concession, and in order to ease you into the upcoming work load, I will understand if you have to take a break tomorrow, say at lunchtime?
Dear Ace,

You want to keep your new-found cleavage while losing weight, and I'd like to ditch mine after the fact. You and I obviously need to get together and see whatever boob expert is giving A's friend the breast job of the millennium.

Hook us up, Dear Life Goddess, my time as an upright primate is running out,
L (of the 34Fs)
Dear Chicken Fingers,

I'm terribly sorry I abruptly stopped enjoying you. You see, my work partner decided to announce his excitement as he entered the work truck in a sing-songy display. What was in his hands you ask, Chicken Finger? The over-the-counter wonder "Plan B." But to his dismay, it was "50 bucks, man!" But don't you worry about his financial status- "looks like I'll tell girlfriend it's 50-50 since we both screwed up." Mmm, I can taste the class. When I asked about birth control, I was met with a blank stare. This coming from the guy who asked "the what?" when I called that "that pillar thing" the Washington Monument. I need a real job quick.

Hungry for responsibilty,
Dan in DC
Dear Mom,

You are busting my fucking balls. Lay off me, I did need those fabulous grey platform booties and no, I will not be paying you any money for rent. What a crock of shit. I am not 10 years old and contrary to popular belief, do know how to budget my money. $100 for shoes, Zero dollars for you. See how that works? Thank God I am getting out of this hell hole soon.

Counting down the days,

Dear Body,

This recent weight gain has not been appreciated. Adding my old dress size and old pants size equals my current size, which does not look exactly right on my five foot frame. Though you've been very sneaky about your addition of fat to my not-even-on-the-petite-chart self, (I definitely appreciate the boob augmentation, no need for lipo now), I'm still uncertain if this new me is healthy or not.

Get ready, Body, for me to work out and get back to a size that's not double what I used to be. Fat, you are going away if I die trying.

Still- Hoping the Boobs Don't Disappear As Well,

Dear Friend Getting New Boobies,

Why am I totally jeal when I have a supple rack of my very own? Probs because I wish mine were abnormally round and super perky like your awesome surgically augmented tots will be. Is it weird that I can't wait to feel them?

Dear Beyonce,

Gah, you're really having a rough go-round this year, no?

Dear Bank Account,

Up until a minute ago, I had no clue what your contents were. A thousand dollars, who knew? What a pleasant surprise that you were not overdrawn.

Thank God,
Dear Paul,

That mental image just made me gag so hard my gall bladder almost came up. Also because I was thinking about that one summer when you didn't wash your bathing suit the whole time and by August the lake water made that fetid piece of apparel smell like 900 toddlers pissed and shat on you. Major vomo.

Love You Smelly,

Dear Asparagus,

Why do you make my urine smell like a small rodent crawled up into my urethra and died?

Just wondering,

Dear Steve the Lobbyist,

No, it wasn't really okay that you interrupted my crossword to yell trite small talk at me from
three tables away. I know I always say that I want an older businessman to be my sugar daddy,
but I didn't mean you. You looked kind of like Rocky the squirrel, and I really just wanted to finish my soup in peace.

Don't Wanna Be Your Bullwinkle,
Dear T9,

At least get "duh". Gah.

Dear Shameless,

When you rub on my nipple, it's kind of a sensitive spot hence my reaction this weekend
when the five of us woke up in bed together.

Feel free to molest me,
Unkown latino
Dear CRAZY hobo on the corner of 17th and Eye,

You make me laugh every single morning on my way to work. Your signs are so original / weird that I find myself looking forward to crossing paths with you each day. It started out with "need money for sandwich and Coca-Cola" - your insistence on brand name cola products when you can't even afford a cardboard box was mildly amusing to me. But that was just the beginning. Yesterday you wanted "a sandwich or a bottle of 5000mg vitamin C" and today when I walked by your stoop you were holding up a sign that read "i need a sandwich or sterile gauze and surgical tape". I think I'm gonna start carrying around a rubber tire in my purse - y'know, just in case.

Man, You Must REALLY Like Sandwiches,
Dear Wicked-Hott PR Guy,

I have to admit, you have mad networking skills. I saw you work them when you set up a meeting with me at Starbucks a year ago, paid for my coffee and chatted me up. Unfortunately, your clean-cut good looks, endearing voice and slick likeability do nothing for you when I'm working on deadline and you send me a release an hour before press time. I don't care how good looking you are, there isn't much you could do that would get me to write your story for publication at that point.

Also, it was completely unacceptable that you invited me to a grand opening party for a local store and then failed to show your adorable face when I finally got there. Screw the fact that I showed up four minutes after the party was supposed to have ended. I'm a reporter, and you -- in your complete obliviousness -- scheduled the party during the local council meeting, which is no question more important than your store opening.

If you really wanted me to cover it, you should have had your adorable self there next to me when I finally arrived telling me I'm pretty and handing me all the free promotional shit you promised me but never delivered. Where is my free shit? Now I'm ignoring your store opening completely unless you call me this morning to apologize and ask me to coffee again. That's the power of the press -- remember that the next time you need some media coverage. I get what I want, you get what you want. It's tit for tat, baby (especially since my prude boyfriend seems to have decided that second base is an unnecessary stop on the way to third during our make out sessions. My 34Fs need some love.).

This low cut top will convince you to see things my way,
Dear Lauren on "The Hills",

Stop being so mizzy. It's not becoming.

Also, tell your friend Audrina that her teeth are blinding me.

Shape Up,
Dear Yahoo Instant Messenger Part II:

You are now enabling my totally inappropriate innuendos with my coworker from the comfort of my bed. At least when you were confined to the office, there was a sense of propriety and decorum enveloping me that prevented me from saying anything that would look bad if a boss walked by and read the screen over my shoulder. My being on my bed just leads my mind to bad, wonderful places. On the other hand, with twenty-five miles between him and me, I don't run the immediate risk of pulling him into a dark corridor and climbing on top of him. The sexual tension is getting a little out of control, though, and I fear (hope?) that when you arrange a meeting between him, me, and Mr. Tequila, I might not even bother looking for the cover of darkness before jumping his bones.

Future me is a total bitch,

PS Screw the innuendos, we're into "what are you wearing?" territory now. Nice. I mean, bad. But nice.

PPS Using you for come-ons with the coworker while inviting the estranged b/f for a visit? God, when did I get so hot and irresistible?
Dear Monster Truck with the Big Ass Tires,

I know that it was raining today....the road was wet. I also understand your "need for speed" going down Highway 52. Nothing says "Man, I'm a beast!" like barrelling down the road on a drenching afternoon at rush hour. I would like to express that your fucking huge ass tires are not needed. You too can hydroplane then take out more people with your gas guzzeling trailer on wheels. Also, when you pass by you spray the rest of us with road's raining...we don't need to get anymore wet. As for your truck....let's keep it at the Truck Rally and not in Rural Hall.

Stay Dry,
Dear Yesterdays One Night Stand

I know we were tipsy, but I've had alcoholics better than you. It was so bad that the condom went dry. For that to happen that must mean that I was also totally dry. Yeah. Work it out.

Your Sex Face Kept Me Entertained Whilst I (politely) Waited For You To Finish,
Dear Perez,

If you are going to rip everyone else to shreds...

a.) don't dye your hair a new neon shade on a daily basis
b.) don't have a sschpeech impediment

K. Aweschome.
Dear Facebook,

You don't do it for me anymore. I hate it. You used to thrill me multiple times a day. Now every time I click on you, I just can't even get in the mood. I never thought I'd say this, but our relationship has gone stale. I can't decide if this is a good thing or bad thing.

Dear Yahoo Instant Messenger,

Thank you for enabling totally inappropriate office flirtations with my very-engaged coworker. I may be a huge hypocrite now, but it gets me through the work-day. There's nothing quite like double entendres about "rides" to let me ignore the fact that my life is as bleak and gray as my cubicle walls.

These goosebumps have nothing to do with the A/C,
Dear J.O.B-

I am writing to apologize. Apparently I am, like, 13 years old again and cant stop day-dreaming about my BF. Or checking the latest celeb gossip on, like, every damn website there is, OR emailing my daily contribution to the WAISP blog and spending, like, another hour reading other blogs. I am sorry for texting my friends and ignoring all work emails, while checking my personal email every 5 seconds HOPING for an email from my BF, or anyone for that matter. You wouldnt praise me, tell me I am the goddess, or give me raises if you really knew what i was doing today...basically, waiting til 5 (445) and trying to find creative ways to amuse myself until then. OK, I promise to get some work done today, maybe that will be, like, an hour or two of my day, being that i have, like 4 (3ish) more hours to go. Well, now that I have that off my chest, I am going to play a quickie game of hangman and then I PROMISE, I will get something done. (very little). Have a great rest of the day, dont work to hard.


Dear Seth Rogan,

After watching the two masterpieces that are Knocked Up and SuperBad, I seem to have developed a bewildering crush on you. I don't know if it's the goofy facial hair, the jew-fro or the sweet but slightly awkward sense of humor, but I want your (slightly chubby) bod. And you wrote SuperBad yourself? In high school? Damn that's hot. Please stop being so amazingly funny, you are messing with my head.

I'm a sucker for smart guys,


Dear G. Boyfriend,

Let's have make-up sex.

Dear Facepubes-

Why are you reddish? There's no red hair anywhere on me.. I'm the most guido looking person ever. And my dark brown hair is a far cry from the carrots you're trying to sprout of my face. Sick. In fact, you're beautiful locks were glistening in the sun yesterday, and some girl asked me if I had barbeque sauce on my face. I told her to lick me and taste it.

Suffering from gingeritis,
Dear Mr. Nice Guy,

I'm sorry that I haven't returned any of your phone calls or listened to a single one of the numerous voicemails that you have left for me. You have great intentions, and it is sweet that you want to go on sober dates and do things like take me to plays and cook me dinner. Unfortunetly for everyone involved, it turns out that I am only attracted to boys with gratuitous tats, gambling addictions, hankerings for illegal substances, criminal records, no direction in life, and a general disregard for others.

Better luck next time,
Dear x-boyfriend,

I hope you enjoy the bitter taste of eating your heart out.

Infinitely better than you,

Dear Brit,

Why am I the only one on Earth that's ever noticed that your (formerly amazing) stomach is completely asymmetrical? Your belly button is awkwardly not in the center of your tummy. Do you have 11 toes too?

BTW, please come back and stop being so crazy.


Dear Salma,

If you get any more pregnant, I fear your breasts will explode.

Just Concerned,
Dear Insane Bridal Shower,

(Start it at 5mins45s)

You were EXTREMELY remniscent of this scene. By this, I mean you were held in the most EXTRAVAGENT house I have ever been inside in my entire life and held by the most looney women in their 50s and 60s I'd ever met. Besides the bride, I was the only person under 40 and I kinda really loved it (so did she). Especially when they started teasing each other about practicing their kegel exercises so they could be more like us and not pee when they sneezed. I really hope I'm that nutzo when I'm their age. It will make things more interesting.

Thank God For My Young ChaCha Though,

Dear Mutant Baby Animal,

I don't know what you are, but I want to snuggle with you. Bye.

Dear Gmail Ads,

No, I am not a "slacker mom." In fact I am not a mom of any kind! What in my foul-mouthed email correspondence about shopping, dirty blogs, food and booze could make you think that I am??

Stop asking,

p.s. I also don't care what shocking secrets coffee cos are hiding, FYI.
Dear Dad,

Your e-mail just made me smile times infinity. How cute are you asking me to forward you the paper I've been working on so you can keep up with what I'm interested in. Ugh, I can't take it. That was so sweet. You're the best dad ever.

Dear Saturday Nite-

THANK YOU, THANK YOU THANK YOU...the boat was awesome, the drinks on the patio were great. My BF was hotter than ever!! AND THEN....the skinny dipping and making out in the middle of the night until 3 am was HOT!! OK, so I was wrinkled like a damn prune....but MAN was it worth it. I dont care if we slept all the next day....IT WAS SO HOT...
So thanks, Saturday nite, we need to do it again sometime.

Dear Agata,

Thank you for waxing my vagina every month. Even though it is very painful, i enjoy our conversations and my very bald vajayjay,

All My Love,
Dear Elderly Australian Woman,

Curse your family for giving you a 330 lb. camel for your 60th birthday! If only the camel would have spit on you, instead of knocking your arthritic ass to the ground, only to lay on top of you in what police assumed to be "a mating ritual". It's one thing to go out having sex, it another to leave this world when being humped by a monstrous camel. You must have been some cougar! Happy 60th!

What a waste of cake,
Dear Debit Card,

I'm a horrible friend to you. I'm sorry I always get too drunk and leave you behind at the bar. I hope the bartender didn't take advantage of you, but I bet he did.

Dear CF's new bed,

I hope you enjoyed the 5 person co-ed cuddle party that took place on you all night long last night. Please be aware that this is a pretty common occurrence- our good times are just getting started!

I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,
Dear G.Boyfriend #2,

Thank you for my very involved lapdance in the middle of the straight bar last night prompting several other random girls to ask for a turn. You should seriously reconsider law school for a career in exotic dancing. And reconsider being gay.

Made Me Smile...And My Vag,
Dear Wax Mistress,

You missed some spots. Actually, I think you intentionally missed them in your attempt to thicken my brows. I happen to like the asian prostitute look that i had going. Stop trying to make me into someone i'm not without telling me.


Dear This Person,

It's okay, I thought spermicide was like green fertilizer spray.

I Found Out It Wasn't Like Yesterday,
Dear former substitute teacher,

Contrary to all appearances at the bar last night, I’m not generally a belligerent lush. It’s not my fault that the guy who kept buying me drinks looked like Jesus. And when Jesus says, “Hey, this one’s a double shot,” the natural response is “Okay. Thanks, Jesus.” Because that’s what my mom and the Bush administration would have wanted me to do.


P.S. Apparently while I was lying in the fetal position and cracking up in one of the dining booths, you told my friend you were “high as a kite.” It’s a shame that it took so long for the real you to come out. We could have had a lot more fun when I was in high school.
Dear Kevin The Cabdriver (Part 2),

So we meet again. I feel like our relationship is slowly progressing. God, stop being so smokin. My vag can't handle it.

Love Ya,
Dear Joe,

Thanks for the kiss. Don't fault me for not making out with you. I was restraining myself because the tiny midget in my head which is telling me it's time I got some class was talking to me. I thought about taking you home, then I realized my beer goggles probs can't be trusted and I didn't feel like risking it.

Dear Tattooed Guys,

What is about you that I find so unbearably sexy??? I think it's the fact that you treat your body recklessly enough to permanently mark it with something as though you will never live past today and have to face it when it's faded and wrinkly. That's so 'rebel without a cause' and i would have arched my back for James Dean on command.

Mmmm, I Want To Lick Your Ink,

NOTE TO SELF: Make sure next boyfriend has tats.
Dear Pot,

Last night you made it impossible to enjoy my delicious selection from the dollar menu becaue you had me convinced the workers of McDonalds sabotaged my meal by placing three hairs in my french fries and poisoning my water.

That Part Sucked,
Dear Roommate's Girlfriend:

I live with guys; one of them is your boyfriend. Get over it. Stop glaring at me every time I, God forbid, speak in your boyfriend's general direction. And how dare you have the audacity to be bitchy to me. Everyone else's girlfriends are nice, down to earth, and get along with me like normal adults. Why do you have to suck? You are why I hang out with guys: because girls make me want to fight them.

You're a bitch,
Dear Butterflies in My Stomach,

Please stop showing yourselves every time Work Crush says or does something sweet. Apparently you have failed to realize that WC has a fiancee, and that shit's just not gonna fly. I will not allow you to confuse me into falling for someone who has been dating his gf for five years, just because he buys us coffee and pastries and tells us we're smart and cute. Also, just because I choose to replay in my head some of the scenes from the last week does not give you license to start flapping about. Seriously, save your energy for someone who isn't engaged and several years over thirty, and oh yeah, did I mention, has worked with my father.

Keep this up and I'll have to drown you with tequila.

R ... the *original* one.

PS No really, what part of "stop" do you not get?
Dear People Who Are In Charge Of InterLibrary Loans,

You copied your thumb on like 5 of these pages in this article. I can see your stranger fingernail. That's really sick. Isn't this your job? Shouldn't you know it's unappealing to see your fings on my page?

Dear People with Lisps,

I'm not hating on you, just suggesting that you reconsider your venture into television journalism. Word on the street is some local papers are hiring. Just a thought.

Dear David Carr,

I cannot wait to stare at your hot ass in those perfectly tight football pants tonight. Here's hoping that Delhomme breaks a hand and I consequently get to drool over you for the entire season. Who cares if you make good plays? Nobody needs talent when you're that fucking gorgeous.

Can I sack you?
Dear A ,

You are so pretty. Drink this.

Rehab is for pussies,
Sketchy Guy At The Bar
Dear 5 O clock-

Hurry the shit up?? I have a date with my shit HOT BF this evening/weekend and I plan on being an extremely NAUGHTY GIRL this weekend. After 2 years of living like we were 60, we split up, moved into seperate apartments, now we are back together and I actually am getting hot right now, just thinking about him. So, you see the need for you to HURRY your ass??? Seriously, its like we JUST met all over again and will probably have sex in every room/position tonite, thats for damn sure. ...BEFORE we go out and make out in elevators, bars, etc........HURRY!!!!!!!


Dear BF,

Seriously, I don't even know how you became my BF. You were just supposed to be the guy at work that I drunkenly made out with. But then you asked me to dinner??? Via a text message??? I like, laughed on the floor for hours with my roommates about that. And then I said yes, because free meal, right?

But somehow, free dinners turned into more and more time spent together, especially considering you sit like 15 feet from me in the office. And now I'm like, how do I get out of this? You are not attractive, you annoy the SHIT out of me, and your penis is like the smallest thing in the world. I'm like 50,000 ft out of your league. 2000 leagues out of your league.

Anyway, I don't see anyway out of this while we still work together.

Looking for a new job,
Dear Irony,

Fuck you, you tricky bitch.

Dear Selfish Immature Asshole (Pt. II),

The fact that I chose to respond to your IM about how I looked "fucking amazing" last weekend should in NO way be construed as an open invitation to start leaving me drunk smiley faces on my computer every night. Seriously, what is up with that? If you aren't complimenting my voice or my breasts or my intelligence, wit and charm, I honestly kind of lose interest fast. I pretty much only keep in contact with you so that I will have a cock/bed to sleep in the next time I visit the city you inhabit, and the effort it takes to listen to your inane ramblings online is almost not worth it. I would definitely be ignoring you by now if I didn't looooove the deliciously sinful feeling I get when I remember that by boning you I am also going behind the back of my uptight, catty friend. It's all so Days of Our Lives...

: ),
Dear NyQuil + Alcohol Consumption,

You make me have crazy dreams- some enjoyable, some not. Also, the sleep paralysis really scares me. Please stop STAT.

Freaked Out By Your Side Effects,
Dear Sex Life,

You've made a strong point. But now, you're just being a vindictive bitch, hell bent on punishing me. I get it. I kind of don't want to hang out with me either when I date a guy that gets panic attacks on our dates because he likes me "so much" or sleep with a guy that promises he likes it rough, but instead buries his head in my neck and moans quietly - almost to the point of a whimper, while I wonder if his penis even exists. and the ugly faces that were scary to wake up next to that wouldn't leave until they jacked off because I refused to touch them. We could have stood together in our disappointment and worked as a team to overcome. But you're stubborn and mean - and you abandoned me just to spite and mock me.

Can we make a compromise? I will steer clear of the psychos with wee little bits if you remain clear of the STD's. I will let you motorboat and straddle guys in bars if it makes you happy. We can go back to making out, almost naked in hotel elevators. We can once again choose boys that look like Jared Leto (pre-3 seconds to mars makeup fiasco) and that are hung like amazons. You name it, Sex Life, I'll be there. Just come back to me. Just think of all the good times we used to have before things took a strange turn...let's go back to those days. I miss you. Come on back you dirty bitch.

Call Me,

P.S. See you tonight?
Dear Head Cold,

I feel like I got you from the sweaty fat guy in front of me at Hot Yoga last week. He wasn't sick or anything, I just suspect his grossness.

Dear Future Me,

On a side note remember: It is tacky to drunkenly makeout with a boy and then 5 minutes later call someone else for a midnight booty call right in front of said drunk makeout boy.

Have Some Class.
Dear Emotions,

I know its hard to control yourself, but we have a situation. I haven't had sex in like a month and I am horny. But every time I try to think about going out and getting laid, you get all crazy and make me think about my ex, who just dumped me a few weeks ago. Look, I know its hard and everything, but need I remind you of the pre-boyfriend dry spell that lasted over a fucking YEAR? Yeah, remember that, emotions? I am not going through that again, so sack up and get your shit together before my vagina closes up. Now, the breakup has caused me to lose a few pounds, plus I have a sweet tan and I just got a brazillian. I am in my PRIME here, so... just think about it.

Starting to squirm,

P.S. A sidenote to the Dear Life readers: it is possible that the above referenced dry spell was caused by the traumatic experience of getting the absolute worst head of my life and NOT due to a lack of hotness on my part. I mean the guy was all over the place, with his tongue and... man it was bad. He frightened my vagina into a year and a half of hiding.
Dear Kikkoman Tofu Miso Soup,

You are officially my new obsession. Not only are you cheap, have 35 calories, and take 1 second to make - you're actually pretty damn good. And you're Japanese. And I think that makes you edgy and cool - because let's face it, pretty much everything Japanese is awesome. Except Bukkaki... that's just f'ed up. Come to think of it, pretty much everything Japanese is f'd up. I digress. You're yummy.

Dear Thirsty Thursday,

Let's get it on! I know I'm no longer a college sorority girl, but I miss you baby. And guess who deals with hangovers and shirked responsibilities really well? That's right, Future Me!

Meet Me In The Bar, It's Goin' Down,
Dear T9 Service On My Mobile Phone,

You're no fun. Here is why -You don't recognize the following words:


Get with the program. These are intergral words in my lexicon.


P.S. At least you have "snatch".
Dear Large Banana Milkshake,

Why did you feel it necessary to explode like a geyser onto my face in the parking lot of the eye doctor? There was no reason for that. I was just trying to put you down on the ground for a second, and instead, you fell, and decided you were Old Faithful. That isn't very faithful, though, Milkshake. It was just plain mean. Not to mention the fact, and I think you knew, that I had no napkins. I had to go into the doctor's office covered in milkshake.

My hair was sticky all day,
Dear Dear Life,

I love all this drama. Love it and Hate it at the same time. It breeds great emotion for shit-hot sex and make-out sessions. That and all the rum I drank last night...

Dear hot ex-Boyfriend with no cash-

OK, you have gone and done have officially brought me to my knees (literally) and forced me to dump the hot rich guy I was going to date. Last night was so amazing....who knew making homemade pizza was so damn (shit)hot?! I am officially willing to give you a 2nd chance. WOW....and its not because the size of your peen, its the size of your peen AND brain..hehe


Dear Ex-Boyfriend,

Honestly, I've been trying so very hard to see the good in you, but wow, you are really a sad piece of work. It's been over a year since we broke up so I didn't think a friendly invitation to lunch would warrant such an outpouring of cattiness and angst. Then again, you always were a huge drama queen. Thanks for reminding me why losing your sorry ass was the best decision I've ever made. I may be a borderline alcoholic now, but at least I am free from your moody controlling ways, and I can three-way girl kiss anytime I want.

Feeling bad for your new gf,