Dear Universe:

I can't decide if you love me or hate me. First, you give Neighbor a monster dong of epic proportions. GOOD. You only let me bounce on it once (the first time didn't count since I was too drunk to remember). BAD. Next, you send Hasher boy, who calls when he says he will and actually asked me out to a kicking party on a boat tonight and said that he is going to ask me out again for Friday in person. GOOD. You let me decide to get rager drunk last night, therefore causing me to roll out of bed at 9:15 when I had a 10:00 meeting, so I didn't shave my legs, comb my hair, or put on any kind of decent make-up and have given me no time to go home before boat party to do any of these things. BAD. Oh, and I'm prolly gonna start my period right when I get there. Super, thanks.

I guess it's hate,
Dear Halloween,

I love you so much. I love even more that i can wear fairy wings and lots of glitter makeup to work tonight and its totally ok.

Wishing That That Show "Halloweentown" On The Disney Channel Really Existed-
Dear Dear-Lifers,

Happy Halloween, Bitches. I drink a toast to each of you! Hangover be damned.

from the pretty pretty princess,
Dear Current Place of Employment,

Why do you make me hate my life so much, and in turn be a mean and bitter person. You are making me hate myself and everyone else more and more everyday! I used to be a very happy person who loved to go out and have a good time, now that you are in my life, I am miserable and all I want to do when I leave you is go home and down a bottle of wine all by myself, or with other people who are as bitter as I am!

What's happening to me?!

Looking for a new job,
Dear Old Ebbitt Grill Express:

Holy bacon burger, you have that same bad ass stew I had for lunch yesterday. AND there were chocolate cupcakes in the lobby. This is the best day ever.

Everyday is Christmas, even when it's Halloween,
Dear Guy Who Is Apparently No Longer In Love With Me,

YOU ARE INSANE. You contact me after like a year to tell me that you’re still in love with me, I tell you I’m not interested, so you tell me you want to be friends anyway and that you’ve missed me and that I’m the coolest girl you’ve ever met, and blah blah blah. Then a few weeks later, you just fall off the face of the earth completely, stop calling/texting me… and today I find out that not only have you removed me from your myspace friends, but that you are actually dating a new girl and that you and she are “in love”. Listen, good for you. I’m glad that you have found someone new to torture, and I am glad that you are happy, but what the hell is wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just tell me you met a girl? Hello, I DON’T CARE. I am the one who wasn’t interested in YOU… I encouraged you to date other people for god’s sake!! You are the one who accused ME of being inconsistent, and giving mixed messages or whatever, but clearly you are just totally unstable and have the maturity level of a 13 yearold boy. Which is funny considering that you are in your mid 30s. No wonder you keep dating girls that are barely out of high school. Well anyway good luck, I’m not going to bother contact you or anything because honestly, its just way easier to not even have you in my life. The only reason I’m so pissed is because you’re such a huge f’in hypocrite and that you are totally guilty of all of the things that you accused me of.

Get on some meds now, please, because you’re a psycho.

Dear People Who Work at the Seattle's Best Coffee in My Building:

You guys are seriously wonderful. I actually KINDA look forward to coming to work b/c you people always know what I want, make me laugh, and are simply delightful. If everyone could be like y'all, then I might even stop muttering, "I f*cking hate people so much" under my breath all day long (okay, that's a long shot, but I'm just sayin).

I heart my small skinny hazelnut mocha in a medium cup w/ whip,
Dear Girl Who Had on Black Leg Warmers Over Your Flats:

A full-length mirror costs like ten bucks at Bed Bath & Beyond.

Look into it,
So what's the point?

-Jon in Denver
Dear Ex-Boyfriend,

I was being completely honest when I said you've ruined my life. If I am not the one then who is she? Cause, when you find her I've GOTTA meet this broad. Honestly, we go together like peanut butter and jelly. I'm the chick you, and you're the dude me. It only makes sense to just stop fighting it and deal. And, we don't want significant others anyways! We just want a little Friends With Benefits thing deal. And I'm down.

And if the real issue is that you're scared of becoming a father, then stop putting it in when there's no condom, DUMBASS! I've got condoms 24/7. So, if pregnancy is the real issue then it's easily resolved. And anyways, I'd love to have your abortion. Kidding.

These are not complicated things to deal with, so shut up and kiss me already,
Your Ex
Dear Boyfriend,

So yeah. I talked shit about you. Mean shit. But, come on. I was waaaaasted out of my mind. No reason to cry like a little bitch. You swept me off my feet and continue to do so. And, I mean, I'm kind of a bitch anyways, right? Seriously. Let's look over this. I mean, if what I said is true, I'm the one suffering. Not you.

I'll still bone you til the sun comes up,
Dear Sleep,

I know I haven't been setting aside time for you lately, but I miss you. I've been really busy thinking about the New Boy (he's great by the way, I hope you guys get to meet soon) and about work and my friends and just about life in general, but I'd really appreciate if you came to visit other than when there is alcohol or pills involved.

I'll be patiently waiting for you tonight.

Dear Lunch:

Holy shit on a stick, you are good. Not so cool leaking everywhere and getting on my clothes, though.

Would it be wrong to lick my own knee?,
Dear Passive-Aggressive Neighbor below us,

I very much enjoyed your manly hissy-fit this morning at 8:10AM-- you in your stained undershirt and sweats and me walking right past you in my cute new boots. Go ahead and call the landlord. Your complains about my inside shoe wearing will be answered by my following statements:
1. I did not sign a lease saying I would NEVER wear shoes in the building.
2. You decided to live on the bottom floor stupid face
3. You complained at 10:00PM and again at 8:10AM--Stop sleeping so much and get a life.
4. Unless you want to pay for wall-to-wall carpeting, I'm not doing shit.


PS. Loved your typed passive aggressive note posted on my door.
PPS. I'm Asian, so I don't wear shoes in the house out of respect but I might just to spite you.
Dear A & turkey:

You jerks.

I just howled "bwaHAHAHAAA!" and squirted tears down my face. I couldn't speak for almost a minute. Hysterical laughter in the workplace draws attention, you know, smartasses.


p.s. Now I have to read your damn blog with my door closed and my phone to my ear in case of hilarity. Great.
Dear Lx,

You so just gave me next year's Halloween Costume. Yes, I actually wrote it down in my Outlook Calendar for October 12, 2008 as a reminder. This year, I went as a loser.

You're a hot bitch!
Dear Lindsay Lohan,

It was written months ago that you had said you had bruises all over your legs due to rigorous pole dancing lessons you were taking for a role in a movie (that apparently sucked rocks). I will confirm that one does develop bruises as a result of pole dancing lessons, however one should not speak of them in public. Or in front of reporters, on late night television or to gossip bloggers. Also, do not offer to show off said bruises to the paparazzi.

Pleased as punch that you are clean. Please stay this way,
Dear Primetime Television-

Your performance of late means I am no longer mad about you. Maybe it is just growing pains or maybe these are just the facts of life. I understand we live in a world where different strokes go for different folks. I understand that you are projecting what perfect strangers might enjoy. Since most of us are not of the silver spoons class, we enjoy humor and levity that takes our minds off of the office, the ER, or the days of our lives. Perhaps hiring someone new to be a guiding light and getting rid of old execs that are damn close to pushing daisies anyway could be a small wonder. Family ties are built on a night of good television. What happened to previous wonder years with weeknights crammed with hit shows, when the tv powers that be recognized that family matters and even though it might be just the ten of us watching a particular show, we were thoroughly bewitched by said show. Now it seems that the industry is free of law & order, with the void left by bad tv being filled by friends and tending to the green acres we live on. While it may take a quantum leap to rectify this problem, you really have to keep in mind who’s the boss and take the reins of this faltering industry. No matter if you’re single, married, or married with children – this issue affects us all. Please don’t be the biggest loser and make us all feel like our efforts have just gone up in smoke. Don’t air stupid shows just because the price is right. Air quality shows rich with temptation and jeopardy so that viewer ratings improve and make you feel like the top cat you once were. Please let this email be your saving grace and intervention all at once.

Hoping I don’t have to go running for the hills,
Penelope Ann

For some reason I don't think Pink is giving this her best effort.
My friend Paul is an idiot (I<3you) . He's been sending his dears to (aka not me) for the past month and wondering why i haven't been posting them. Someone actually does own that e-mail address though. Today I started g-chatting with this imposter and it turns out he's from turkey. Here's how the convo went: selam
me: kimsin sen sohbet etmek istedin
me: istedin? evet
neyse yalış anlama oldu her halde
iyi günler
me: yea
who are you? *My, name, soot, "Virtue"Oh!, you,
I don't have english
me: hahaha
i can see that what
me: what is your name? how old are you? erdem 32
me: bahaha
im 23 I was glad
me: that makes no sense I didn't understand
me: so, do you like hate the united states or what?
george bush
i bet you hate his guts
its cool i do too
but i would probably get drunk with him SHORT SENTENCES USE
me: ok
you win.
do you like girls or boys? WHO DOES NOT LIKE
me: asexuals I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND
me: i don't understand them either
are you from turkey? yes
me: cool. do you eat turkey? I didn't understand
I could not turn
me: cranberries?
Dear My Friend's Older Brother,

You just sent me an email titled "I'm a Douchebag." Popular consensus says –Yes, Yes you are.

Please never exist anywhere near me again,
Dear Keg of Margaritas,

Thanks (I guess) for finally helping me to live up to my moniker. Falling asleep next to one brother and waking up next to the other is probably beyond the definition of shameless. Oops. Whateves, it was my birthday. Nothing counts on your birthday… right?

Dear b,

I hate you.

Your Hangover Tomorrow Morning
dear life:

dfity buckst o how hcan fiugue ouiwhat this says bc I can readit.

where am i
Dear Neihbor:

Look. We ucked. wahtevcer. I am trying to vbe cool w yo now b./c i think youare really amusng and fuhnnyh. there's no wayh you ccaqn falut me for not givin gyou u[p in fr5tont on toher girls while laughtin g agt tyou jokews. seriously, you aer fuufnny and i'm happy to aupp0ot it in front ot ther hter women.

jesuse horld is toeday a mobday>

don't appreciatte nit buy sokmeone wshoudl get latied,

ps i know twhat this dsays--di yu?
Dear America,

I may talk a lot of shit about you, but despite my harsh remarks, I like you. A lot. You enable my severe internet addiction. You pay me 15+ dollars an hour for reading Dear Life all day long. And most importantly, you are KING of trashy reality TV shows. Please don't forget me while I'm gone. I'll see you in two years and three months. (On a related note: Dear Africa, Please don't give me AIDS.)

Dear Girl I crossed on the street wearing that horizontal-striped green mini-skirt,

What WERE you thinking?

your way-too-big-for-that-skirt thighs and ass
Dear Saturday Night,

You were the best. Homecoming was fantastic. My date was adorable, even though he's waaaay too nice for me and thus ended up leaving me at a party to take care of some puking/hallucinating girl from my English class and not taking advantage of my drunkenness like i so wanted him to. (Ok, it doesn't sound nice like that... but it was, trust me.) The rest of the party was a blur, starting with me storming off cursing and ending with me happily passed out in the hostess's bed with the (female) senior class secretary (whaaaa??). Somewhere in the middle, though, were:
a) one verrrry drunken call to Music Major in which i may or may not have told him i wanted him, "NOWWWW, PLEASE PLEEEEEASE?"...fuuuuucking sleazy, ew.
b) two lez kisses with the blonde norwegian foreign exchange student. aww.
c) three very cute phone calls with the date. i have butterflies just thinking about it.
d) four lost games of Flip-a-Cup. please remind me to never, ever play that game again. ech.
e) five reeeeeallly unattractive pictures of me chugging something cheap and blue, later tagged on facebook and absolutely fucking horrendous. (how come i felt so cute at the time when actually i looked like a charging bull with a cherry tomato for a head?? this is not fair.)

i think i actually like him as a person.


"Fuck all epople"

Dear Being Nice:

Let me tell you why people nevr do you. 1). Mewn think you want their dong, regardless of whether you arte talking about their ex in a seriou, "I hopwe it works out" way
2) If you've already had the dong, they don't't get that maybe we still think you are friend-worthy, as in DO NOT GIVE A SHIT WHO YOU FUCK BC WE THINK YOU ARE AWESOME AND WANT TO KEEP YOU IN A FRIEND-ONLY CAPACITY
3) Other women hate you

Fuck all epople, I'm gonna drink more
Dear Verizon Kiosk Guy,

I was asking what you were wearing because you smelled amazing. I wasn't hitting on you. No need to CONSPICUOUSLY cover your wedding ring with your other hand.

Nice Spousal Skills,

Come on p7, you can't say that your life doesn't start to significantly improve when the timestamp on this vid reads -2:31. Be real.

In case anyone's wondering, I know every word to this song.
Dear A,

Please erase your Dear Life archives. They are responsible for what just happened with me and the watching of High School Musical. I don't appreciate you turning me gay.

Thank you,
Dear High Heeled Black Boots, Black Fishnets, Black Pleated Mini-Skirt, Black Shirt, Red Hooded Cape, MAC Viva Glam (1) Lipstick and Chanel Coco Mademoiselle Eau de Parfum,

Thank you for making me easily the hottest Little Red Riding Hood at the party.

Still looking for my Big Bad Wolf,
Dear Condescending, Arrogant Co-Worker's Girlfriend (Hereafter Referred to as Dingbat),

When your friend announces that she is going to get sick in the back of my friend's car, you get out to help her/make sure she is alright/hold her hair back as she pukes/talk her back into the car so we can drive her home or offer to walk her home, because that is what friends do.

Thank you for reminding me that though my heart is small, black and frozen solid, it does thaw out a little every now and then, and fortunately your friend was the recipient of my momentary bout of compassion.

I'm better than you,
Dear TSA:

Blow me. When a kid vomits on the floor in your security line you have to disinfect. If you don’t, I’m not walking there. Period. Sock-footed-puke-skating is gross. Why is that surprising? And just so you know, we will never have sympathy for you. We all hate you: you make us half strip, get wanded, risk athletes foot, and you grope us. You’re a waste of my taxes and protect us from squat.

And, au contraire, being loud and difficult DOES solve something. That riot I almost started was worth almost getting barred from my flight. Notice how you cleaned the floor and let me go through a different security gate? That's a solution, dipshit.

Don’t worry. I hear X-Rays are harmless.

Happy not to be you,

p.s. That puddle was way more than 3 fluid ounces. How come you didn’t confiscate and destroy the kid? Isn't that one of those rule things you love so much?
Dear "Couples" Costumes,

I hate you. Fred and Wilma? Tarzan and Jane? Who cares. Be an individual and slut it up for once in your boring couple life- it's Halloween after all.

If I See Another Disney Princess/Prince Charming I Will Puke,
Dear 32oz Water Holder-Thingy I Got for Running a Race to Save N'awlins:

Is it wrong I kinda want Neighbor to put his dong in you so I can have a really amazing frame of reference? I mean, I'll wash you after and stuff.

In fact, this is maybe the best idea ever (AFTER masturbation...duh!). I could make all peens measure up and then be like, "Ooohhhhh....sorry. You're only a 6 ouncer, so you didn't make the cut. Thanks, though. I'll keep your measurements on file for emergencies."

Boobs come in exact sizes, why shouldn't schming-shmongs?
Dear Preggers FBook Friend,

I get it. You're preggers, it's the miracle of life... whatever. I get that you wanna post pics of your cute baby belly and even some ultra sound pics (I coulda done without the one pointing to the little baby penis, but w/e). But I have to draw the line somewhere. Posting the pics of the pregnancy TEST are completely out of line. You peed on that stick for Christ's sake! and now you have it sitting on your bathroom counter so you can take not one, but two pics of it and post it online for the world because you're "soooooo happppy!". As if we wouldn't believe you when you told us that you were preggers because "glow" and the baby belly weren't proof enough.

GAG! Please God let me never get that sentimental.

Also, including a copy of the nursery floor plan from PB Kids was even more unnecessary but no where near as disgusting.

Looking forward to the baby shower already,
Dear Condescending, Arrogant Co-worker,

I don't know why I was so worried about your new girl. Bringing her to the Halloween party last night was the single greatest ego boost of my entire life, as I later found out she is immature, a little more than dumb, and a selfish brat. I don't know where/when/how you found her, but I can only imagine it had something to do with copious amounts of alcohol on your part and a blowjob on hers.

Glad I never went there myself,

Still hating you, but feeling better,
"I'm glad I'm not hooking up with people anymore because i was tired of making people hate me"- stand-in bf
Dear Insane Old Man Posing As A Retired Law Enforcement Officer Threatening To Sue Me For No Substantial Reason (And I Was 100% Sober So This Was Not Misconstrued),

I want to thank you for grabbing my arm with such incredible force while saying "you can tell it to the judge". I'm glad that prompted (a.)a massive riot around me of young onlookers all trying to beat your ass when you refused to take your hands off me (sweet vigilante work making a citizen's arrest over me ALMOST accidentally hitting you in the eye with a Halloween prop bc I didn't see you behind me)and (b.)me to get in your face causing a very heated altercation ending with me screaming "Don't fucking touch me!" and my friends whisking me away. Sure, I was ragingly mad for approximately 45 minutes ex post facto, but I've been waiting my whole life for someone to push me that far. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to channel my anger onto your AIDs ridden existence. How very Brooke Valentine of me.

Bitch, Please,

P.S. Your pussy friend pulled me aside later and said that you had dementia due to your HIV. That would be sad if you weren't such a snatch and I didn't want to fuck you up.
P.P.S. If you couldn't tell by me not batting an eyelash, you threatening to pull a gun on me doesn't scare me. I knew you were a lunatic anyway and if you shot me I'd have 862 eyewitnesses making sure you rotted in the slammer.
Dear b,

Since you're trying to juggle Masturbation and Alcohol, I will advise you to keep those two separate. You don't want them to meet up. It gets ugly. Trust me.

Dear Alcohol:

What? Noooo...I'd never give you up. Between you and me, without you, I'd never get laid. And sometimes all a girl really wants is some penetration.

Don't tell Masturbation, tho, k?
Dear Rando New Guy,

Forgetting your wallet when the check comes? I didn't think anyone ever actually did that. That's truly lame.

My Bank Account
Dear R,

Your praise has warmed my heart. And you're absolutely right, I forgot about the shoes. One time, running through Boston because I was late, my shoes actually made my feet bleed. WTF?

Dear Two Hetero Men Proposing a Threesome with A,

Where is the line between threesome and gang bang? Unless you two are planning to penetrate each other as well as A, I think it is just a small scale gang bang.

Writing about a threesome on the day of the Lord,
Dear Other Random Guy,

No, i don't know why my face looks familiar to you. And no, I don't work at the Opry Mills Mall. Glad to know I look like the mall-working type.

Dear Two Hetero Men Propositioning Me To Have A Threesome,

While you are very attractive and I am completely flattered that you would both like to "have fun with me", i'm going to have to decline. The offer is tempting, however, I don't hook-up with randoms. Ever. No matter how hot you are. I just don't.

Damn My Moral Code,

P.S. That would be kind of a sweet ratio though.
Dear NSN Crush,

Um, your Halloween costume was so cute and you make me laugh. Maybe next time we go out together we should make out. ok? cool.

Dear Masturbation:

You are the greatest invention EVER. I would give up make-up, control-top pantyhose, and alcohol for you.

I'm sorry I can't take you out in public,
Dear Justin Timberlake,

I stopped liking you when you started hitting paparazzi and shedding transparent tears on cue at your concert about "how humbled you are".

You are extremely talented and attractive, but kindness is sexy too.

Dear Irma,

Your description of the perils of being a woman and having to pop a squat to answer nature's call was not only spot-on, but the funniest fucking thing I've read in a long time. Thank you for bringing a small spot of light into my current dark, hungover, wounded-ego, depressive, missing-my-car life. But you know what else you forgot to mention that sucks about being a woman? Cramming your feet into tall, sexy heels that kill your feet until you are hobbling like an 83-year-old cripple, or you (in a drunken disgust) rip the shoes off and decide to walk down the streets of wherever barefoot, thereby risking broken glass, stray pebbles, and hep C.

Am I right?

Dear Halle,

How is it possible that you make being pregnant look so phenomenal? Wow.

Dear Dad:

Know what's awesome? When you text me that I should call grandma b/c grandpa's been in the hospital and is now in assisted care and there's not much time left. Thanks for

a. TEXTING me that
b. the heads-up on his condition--you've known this for what, like 3 weeks?
c. basically sucking at life

Glad I'm eloping (someday),
Dear Dr. McDreamy:

Stop making me think men like you actually exist.

Meredith is a stick anyway,
Dear Paolo Nutini,

I saw you in concert tonight and it was the best night I've had in a long time. You're wonderful, you crazy Scottish man.

Dear Youtube,

Thank you for helping my Get Better process with such awesome things like this:

I never want you to leave my life-
Dear Coworker Who I'm Pretty Sure Likes Me But Then Stood Me Up After Saying Yes,

Girls are weird.

Maybe you're just extremely nice?,

P.S. Excellent job of acting like nothing happened the following morning. Well played ma'am.
Dear Mid Western Boy I thought was gay,

I know in my last letter to you I said I thought you were gay. Sorry bout that. I was wrong. The last time we spoke I had woken up from a drunkn night to you in my bed. I vaguely remember that you would not round 2nd with me because you wanted to fly back down to the sunshine state to take me out to dinner first. Now three weeks later, after midnight, on a Friday night you call. Am I supposed to be excited? Our convo was less than five minutes and somehow during that time you asked if you could come visit me in January. Are you kidding me? Do you expect me to sit at home and wait for January to get a little action? And is the action dependent on if I clean my plate?

I have to give you credit for being unashamed of your bizarre social skills. What is more irrational is that I said, "Sure I would love to have dinner with you in January!"

Worried about the state of my dating life if I will book a date 90 days in advance,

PS Most normal people simply state, "It is time for me to go to bed." NOT "Well dear, I think I am going to bed down." Who says that?

:) I love this.
Dear Being A Woman,

Sometimes, you really suck. Like when I have my period, and I feel horrendously fat, and I can't stop stuffing my face with chocolate. And then, I do the cliche thing of TALKING about how fat I am and how much I like chocolate. And then I talk about how boys suck because they never call when they say they will, and they don't check their messages every 5 minutes like I do, and they can't freaking express themselves EVER or just give us an INKLING of how they're feeling or what they're thinking until we have to beg it out of them, and then they think we're crazy, or engaging in "psycho girl behavior" when in reality, we're acting this way because they DRIVE US TO IT.

And what about when I am on a road trip or camping or drunkenly stumbling down the street and I suddenly need to take a whiz? There's no simply pulling out my dong and pointing it somewhere. Nay its an elaborate process of sliding my pants down as far as they will go and balancing my ass as far back as I can so that I don't accidentally pee all over my feet/shoes/jeans. And even then, its not like I can aim it or anything, so inevitably there's a little splashing and uneven streaming. Oh and if there's a previously undetected incline, then the pee starts to flow towards my shoes and I have to somehow scurry away with my jeans around my ankles and my ass in the air so that, god forbid, I don't touch my own urine with the dirty soles of my shoes. And what if there's no spare tissue in my purse? Let's not even get into that...

Oh and don't give me that bullcrap about the miracle of childbirth, 'cause I'm not buying it. I've seen the tapes in health class, and it was terrifying and disgusting and I'm never allowing that to happen to my body, so what else have ya got?

Pass the ho hos girlfriend,
Dear -c,

With pleasure!

Pole dancing classes are at 2PM tomorrow.

Get ready to work your sexy side,
Dear -c,

That's dick.

Dear Captain Asshole's Roommate Who May Actually Be Usurping The Title,

we're obviously not going to hook up anymore. i got the picture, and even though i messaged you once asking what the hell was going on and you totally ignored me, i was actually pretty happy about it until i got online and tried to show you to one of my friends.



ugh. that's pretty much the lowest of the low; i am degraded beyond belief.

you have a small penis and i hate you,
Dear Lx.,

Your post about Condescending, Arrogant Co-worker totally threw me for a loop. I spent at least thirty seconds trying to remember when i wrote it and was seriously doubting my memory until I saw that it was, in fact, yours and not mine.

Let's be gym partners!,
Dear Sober October,

Ok, so I know I blew you the other night, but you're back on. Why? Because it turns out I'm still the biggest lightweight on the planet and cannot control inappropriate commentary that flows out of my mouth after one drink. Thanks.

Dear Ultra Skinny Chick Looking Impossibly Glam As I Stumbled By With My Umbrella Blown Inside Out And Hair In My Face,

Pls go die now.

Dear Fibrous Bump I Found On My Lower Back While Admiring My Own Soft Skin,

Please do not be Cancer.

Healthfully yours,
Dear Self-Esteem,

Please come back. I am sorry I slept with Condescending, Arrogant Co-worker even though I knew you would suffer eventually.

I won't do it again. I will have a very stern chat with Will Power about resisting his glances and scent of his cologne, and I will also speak with Libido about dialing it down a few notches.

If you come back I'll make it up to you! How about yoga? A membership at the new Y downtown? An even more handsome and successful man to make you feel better?

Begging for your speedy return,
Dear d2:

Can you not read? In the last 8 days, I have alluded to Neighbor's size with the following descriptions:

1. giving a hand job was like churning butter
2. I was gonna need a shoe horn to get it in
3. it was like a light saber
4. I needed to do deep knee bends to prepare
5. my vag was concerned for her structural integrity
6. it touched my heart, literally

Sorry I didn't take the tape measure *eye roll*,
Dear d2,

I'm sorry that my blog does not quench your insatiable thirst for erotica. Rest assured, the next time my ass gets a nice, hard spank, I'll fill you in. Unfortunately, I'm currently experiencing the dryspell of the century. Sure, if I get desperate enough, I could def get not-so-new crush (who is too young for me anyway) or myspace boy (friend of a friend who's smokin hot) to do the trick, but i've already decided they both bore me.

I'll let you know when things heat up (i.e., never).

Hello Ladies,

Reading your exploits the last week or so I must say I'm disappointed. The readers out there want to hear about all of the sex you are having. Time to buck up and start having that explosive sex thing more frequently ... and share the details! Yes, we are all voyeurs ... so b just how big was it? Some guys are secure enough to hear/read what others have. Ladies in the District, a woman once wrote that it's easy to get laid in DC ... I believe it was in the first paragraph of a book. And A ... damn girl, find that man that gives you the spanking you deserve (and crave)!

And as for me, I'll work on the same. Deal?
Dear Flu Shot,

WTF?! I thought you were supposed to prevent me from getting sick, not make me violently ill for six hours straight.

Hoping my esophagus survived all that stomach acid,
Dear Friend's Boyfriend That We All Met For The First Time In Italy One Night Three Years Ago,

I don't understand this. I didn't think things happened like this to people I know.

Dear Liver,

I am SO sorry for what I've been putting you through lately. Seriously, man, deepest apologies. At this point, I owe you several gallons of cleansing spring water and a four week stay in rehab. Between my birthday weekend, my sorority date party and really, every day in between, I'm pretty sure that in the near future, I'm gonna wake up to a gaping hole in my abdomen and a break up letter from you on my nightstand. I mean, I guess I can try to not 'celebrate' things like a new episode of The Hills or getting my laundry done. In addition to making your life easier, I'll probably once more get used to the taste of diet coke without vodka in it.

On the bright side, if you survive the next couple years or so of college, you have a nice dry period of medical school and doctor-hood to look forward to. Don't think I'll be allowed to be drunk on the job much when I'm cutting into someone's brain. BUMMER.

So....maybe you should just try to suck it up for the time being?

Looking forward to your further cooperation,
Dear Self,

Despite what Condescending, Arrogant Co-worker (who is also known as Co-worker I Slept With earlier this year) thinks, you're one banging bitch. You're funny, thoughtful, smart and quirky enough to stand out from the crowd but not so weird that mother's tell their children not to look at the crazy girl. Not to mention you're smokin' hot. Or, so you're told by plenty of others. Who cares if CACW is seeing someone else? You're much better. Besides, is she taking pole dancing lessons? I think not.

Smarten up,

Love, Lx.
Dear Amelie soundtrack,

You are beautiful. I know i am hopelessly in love right now and you are not helping. But seriously. Stop making me tear up at work. I have shit to do.

Dear T,

Bring it on. I never back down from a challenge. Maybe you should either start working on your own "potential" or get off your laurels and find a place in the unemployment line.

Totally rocking the boat,

P.S. This is even funnier b/c I know for a fact that we do NOT work together, but even if we did, this bangin' hottie would SO kick your ass.
Dear Men in DC:

Don't let yourself be intimidated by Neighbor, the Wunderschlong. We still want you all to deliver the Heavy D action. Like, a really lot.

Bring it,
b and her vag
Dear Shameless:

I am having a shit week. I will see you on Friday. Right now, even strangers sound way cooler than my friends.

Also, I'm sorry if you are from here and got offended by that (I get that a lot), but DC people are fug compared to the hotness that was and is Austin, Texas. *siiigh*

If it makes you feel better, I think (hope) Neighbor died.

Seriously, I'm soo crashing your party on Friday,

PS You better be turning something above 24.
Dear Tall Leather Boots with Heels:

How is it that, every fall, women know to put you on at EXACTLY the same time? Is this like the flying south thing that birds do, or what?

Totally Amazed,
Dear Professor,

I want you to be my friend so, so badly. You are so scary and so smart, and I love the way you yell at people for saying stupid things. Also, it doesn't hurt that you show up to class in the flyest saris every single day. You make me hate my jeans and grey sweaters. I hope I can overcome my crippling fear that you will scoff at me if I talk to you, because you are so pretty, and you appear to know everything. You make me love school again, and I love you for it.

Teach me,
Dear Good Lord:

Answer Shameless' prayer and make me write shorter,already. Also, give her a hug, some nice weather and saucer of milk.

Dear British Guy,

God, you are so hot. And really nice. And extremely helpful. And show an unwarranted amount of interest in being my friend considering we only met once, a year ago. And the accent is to die for. Did I mention you are gorgeous?!?!

My bone to pick with the universe:


Life is so unfair. Good thing I'm moving to London in t-3 weeks. There boys like you are not an anomaly, but the standard. Gonna find me some SINGLE English chaps to bone.

Can't wait,

Dear "boy" i ONCE had a crush on,

Im pretty sure you broke my heart when i saw you make out with that ugly skank right in front of me, and im really sorry for the 1000 drunk text messages i sent you over that incident but it was 4 years ago. So unless you have shit for brains you should know that i am well and truly over you. Its fair to say I have moved on.....and with alot of other people. You on the other hand are still with that same fug gf of yours doing the same shit you were doing 2 yrs ago which probably makes you happy which is good but a little FYI fuckface you are not going anywhere in life, whereas I am actually going places mainly because im not tied down with a lame ass bf like you. Even though we probably dont ever want to see each other again cant we at least be FB friends?? It just proves how pathetic you really are, to ignore my invitation to be friends and not even a simple explanation why, I guess its just because I look hotter in my pic than you remember.

Good Riddance
Dear Criss Angel: Mindfreak,

I hate you with an undying passion. I admit - at first, I was somewhat romanced by your impossible tricks and seeming ability to defy death, but I have since become very disenchanted by your enormous ego and your obvious obsession with your appearance. Let me highlight a few reasons why your behavior is not appropriate:

1.) You are only a pseudo-celebrity. It is not okay to act like a diva unless you are one. (P.S. You're not.)

2.) You are 40 years old or some such ridiculous age. It is not okay to act like a partying sex machine that just turned 21.

3.) The fact that it is obvious you spend as much time on your hair, makeup, and wardrobe as you do on your alleged magic tricks reveals your true intentions all too clearly.

4.) Please stop acting like you were just helping Britney out "with her act" or just having a quick bite out to eat with "Cameron". These people are not your friends. They don't like you because you are not important. And please stop implying by avoiding certain questions that your relationship was/is of a sexual nature.

5.) You're obviously having some sort of mid-life crisis regarding your manhood (notice I said mid-life, not're not that far away from collecting social security, my friend). Please stop actively soliciting groupies for sexual favors. Climbing into your car (which parked in direct view of the paparazzi) with two "hot babes" only to have them roll out 5 minutes later looking disheveled and underwhelmed really doesn't impress anyone. By the way, five minutes? Really?

6.) On that same note, I only need to look at you once to figure that you have a small penis, which is charting a direct course toward early onset erectile dysfunction. Enjoy your inner mindfreak while mini-me (and I stress "mini"!) still knows what to do.

7.) Your tricks are old. I originally watched you because reruns of David Blaine levitating on the street for the 300th time were getting a little lame, but at least he's the real deal. Instead of staging your tricks and then performing in front of a "live audience", hang out in a fish bowl above NYC for a few days - then I might give a damn. Wait a minute - that's already been done. So, do us all a favor and crawl back to anonymous, suburban life in Somewhere, New Jersey where you can never bother us again.

8.) You dumped your wife as soon as you were sure you'd "hit it big". That fabulous woman (who was far more attractive than your over-make-uped ass deserves) probably supported your couch potato ass through the early part of your career (remember - when you were still trying to find quarters behind people's ears). She probably cooked for you, cleaned up after you, helped nurture your unhealthy relationship with your hair, and even believed in your stupid magic tricks. And how do you thank her? By giving her the old heave-ho the second two random sluts are willing to blow you in the back seat of your leased Mercedes. If this doesn't scream shallow, self-centered, egomaniacal bastard, I'm not sure what does.

9.) That whole "out in the middle of the desert all alone and suddenly make a bird fly out of my hand" sequence in your opening credits is overly melodramatic. Take a lesson or two from less dramatic intros for more interesting shows, such as Man vs. Wild (P.S. Bear Grylls is 100x the man you'll ever be).


10.) Your ego is taking up too much space on this planet. Do us all a favor and stand out in a lightning storm with a large metal object - now that would be something worth seeing.

In short, you're annoying, too old for primetime television, and obviously self-obsessed. Please do us all a favor and stop pretending you're impressive and/or important. And please stop with the incessant commercials. No one gives a damn.

Hoping a naked picture of you pops up on the internet so your baby-sized peen is public knowledge,
Penelope Ann
Dear Life,

The amount of shits I could truly give about anything right now is truly remarkable. You could tell me armageddon was coming tomorrow, and I wouldn't even bat an eyelash. It would at least mean I wouldn't have to go to work.

Today has been so bad, that even the numerous naked women roaming around the gym this evening didn't irk me. Because, well, they don't give two shits either. Nor do they manicure their bushes. But, to each his own. Maybe in another life I will have the fortune to come back as that hairy Asian lady who spends her days alternating between dips in the pool and long soaks in the hot tube, pausing only occasionally to dart evil stares at anyone who leaves a lingering eye on her lady parts, namely the stray black kinky hairs around her nipples. If life were only that good (aside from the stray hairs, of course)...


And also, for any interested parties, I'll have you know it smells like funnel cake outside my house right now.
Dear Posters on Dear Life,

I love you guys, this website is what keeps me going during the work day. However, it's rainy and I'm cranky so let me lay it out for you:
b- I love your stories about neighbor with the big ween even though I just about want to die from jealousy. Listen up though- DC people aren't fug. Well okay, some are, but there are plenty of hot young singles in our nations capital. I can point to at least three attractive DC chicks on this website who would back me up on this. will provide pictures if necessary.
T- your posts are tooo long. good lord.
A- you are amazing. change nothing. Except maybe fly to DC and drink massive amounts of margaritas with me for my birthday on friday. kay? great.

Cranky bitch,
Dear Self,

This is how you're going to live for at least a few months, just as an experiment.

1) No more (waaaaaaay) older men. As A so eloquently pointed out, "nearly every 20-something male is either (a.)scared of commitment, (b.)power-hungry, or (c.) trying to get ass while putting in the least amount of effort you will allow." While you did a very nice job of convincing yourself that he was none of the above, the train wreck break-up(?) last night proved that you were 0/3. Frick.

2) No more coworkers. It was a bad idea with Captain Asshole, a worse idea with Number Two, and the worst possible idea to continue seeing Captain Asshole even though he treated you like shit and wasn't even that attractive... at all. Way to set up healthy relationship patterns.

3) No more skimping on "chicks before dicks". You have ignored the cardinal rule of womanhood and spent almost every weekend chasing the peen instead of watching chick flicks and eating cartons of ice cream and giggling about boys. This has to stop.

Everyone goes through the whole "I CAN'T WAIT TO BE AN ADULT BLAH BLAH BLAH LOLZ!!!" stage when they're in high school, but you're growing up way too fast and missing out on the best parts. I know it's going to be ridiculously hard to get away from the drinking and smoking and men (oh my!) that you've become so fond of since July, but you have to.


Less excited about this the more I think about it,

but also...

Dear Homecoming This Saturday,

I have a date for you as of today and he looks like Rupert Grint. Fucking adorable.

canNOT wait,
Dear DNE:

From your letter, I know you and I are workmates.

How do I put this gently?

Don't fuck this gig up for the rest of us by pursuing your "potential" or "taking pride" in your work or some other ridiculous bullcrap. If you do, the rest of us will belittle you until you to resign and you'll have to sue our employer to pay for your therapy. You might think a discrimination lawsuit win might be a sweet deal, but trust me, what we will do to you will be so damaging that no punitive settlement will compensate.

This is a place for lazy people who are happy to coast and rest on their laurels. My only "potential" is a potential to be "muahaha" evil to people who rock our little underachieving boat here...

If you can't handle the lack of pressure, go marry rich and volunteer your time deworming orphans or some shit. Do NOT make the rest of us exemplify "hostile work environment" for you...

Stern looks,

This will make you happy. :)


Dear Job,

I can't decide if you are super awesome because I really have nothing to do all day but surf the internet and read awesome blogs (like this one), or if I am really wasting my potential here because you make me feel safe. I mean, the money is great and all, but spending 8 hours a day sitting at a desk doing almost nothing isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sack up and challenge me with something interesting already.

Loving/Hating you at the same time,
Dear Bladder,

I am drinking water because I am freaking tired and trying to perk myself up. Also because I forgot to drink water this morning and so I need to make up for it so that I don't have to add dehydrated to the list of problems I am dealing with today including sleep deprivation, emotional drainage and grown-ups masquerading as toddlers.

Is it really necessary for you to go into apoplectic shock ever time I swallow 1 oz of water? What is your capacity? 1 teaspoon?

We are the same age and I have had to get bigger over the years - maybe you should try it.

And while we're having this discussion, there is some fermented yumminess coming your way so don't freak out. Because I need a beer and you and kidneys just need to do your frickin job and deal with that.

Off to the bathroom (AGAIN),
Dear Dear Life Blog:

I made it 24 hours. The huge, shit-eating grin I now have just from looking at you does in fact mean that we should never, EVER part again.

I hope you love me back,

PS Dear A: 30-something boys do it, too. cf. Neighbor. So don't get your hopes up that it ends soon.

PPS Dear cj: the people in DC are fug, so at the very least, console yourself that he's f*cking a way less cute chick.
Dear Self,

Way to not work out in like 9 days. This is probably the reason why you are in self-loathing, fatty mode. Sure, you were out of town for work, but that was for like 4 days. You have no excuse for the rest. Get with the program, get off your ass and get to the Y. Before heavy dosages of pills have to get involved.

Oh yeah, and stop getting obscenely drunk all the time.

Dear Life,

You are shit today. The only thing getting me through is the hope of ANTM, Gossip Girl, and Real World tonight. Thank god for TweenTV.

Dear cj,

Don't let Boy In D.C. hold you down. That's bullshit. Actually, I suggest you do start accepting dates from other guys and then making sure BIDC knows all about it. Sure, it's low, and he will most likely see right through it, but at the end of the day, if he's into you, he's still going to be ragingly jealous. Besides, I guaran-damn-tee this boy isn't exactly staying in every Friday night, drinking hot cocoa, watching Sleepless In Seattle, and thinking about you. (No offense). He is probably thinking about how to get laid in the town he is in. Shitty, i know. SO, maybe you should open his eyes to the fact that you are a sexy bitch and there are a plethora of men not only willing, but WISHING, to take you out, meanwhile this douche only wants down your pants.

Maybe he'll sack up. In the meantime, concentrate your efforts on (a.) being a badass bitch, (b.)making sure he knows if he wants you, he can take a number.

Sidebar: I do believe that in some very special situations, no games need to be played. However, it is my observation that nearly every 20-something male is either (a.)scared of commitment, (b.)power-hungry, or (c.) trying to get ass while putting in the least amount of effort you will allow. Therefore, they need to be dealt with delicately, and slight bits of mindgames are a neccessary evil. After all, God knows they play them on us.

Trust me, I've had countless successful and healthy relationships.


P.S. When I said "countless", I meant none.
Dear boy in DC,

You are cute and i am in love with you. This past weekend was incredible, but noooo, you had to go back for silly graduate school classes. Each time you come home, i am faced with the reality that you actually aren't staying, and that's OK and all, but i would really like for you to recognize the fact that you like me too. I'll gladly do the whole long distance relationship thing for as long as it takes. Also- give me an answer/hint soon that you think I'm totally sweet and awesome so i can at least justify the fact that i am not going out with the guys that are asking me out. When i go out with others it makes me feel like i am cheating on you.


Dear Friends,

When i tell you about my "boyfriend" in DC, i wish that you would refrain from asking me "well, whats holding you here?" Because yeah, i want to go to DC. But i can't. Because college is here. Damn you all!! Except ML.

Dear Hot Trophy Wife in my Building (the sequel):

Our chat in the building’s gym yesterday afternoon about hookers was really intriguing. I was skipping work because I wanted to, and you were pounding out miles on the treadmill thoroughly crunk (at 2pm, no less – bravo, btw…impressive workout ethic to stumble out the miles after a morning of hard drinking and stoning).

It was nice of you to tell me so many, many times that you think I’m a wonderful person for not wanting the building to get involved in reforming the neighborhood by hassling our prostitute neighbors. I think I’m great too, but honestly, in this matter I’m just cheap and afraid of a beating.

I worry that your vodka and weed perfume might have exaggerated your affection for me. Even though my freak-radar was on overdrive, I couldn’t blow you off because I was hypnotized by your more-than-sympathetic stance to the sex-worker’s lot. You’re downright empathetic. Your detailed knowledge of hooking including how “it is a really hard job to do, sometimes” have me wondering if you’re a former ho. I’d bet cash money you were at least a stripper before the promotion to trophy-wife. It was amazing how you opened right up to me like we were long-lost friends – and not amazing in a good way.

Hoping you’re not so sloppy when next we meet,

p.s. Now that we’ve talked and you scare me, I don’t think I’ll be able to enjoy ogling you and guessing if they're real, anymore. I’ll try, though.

p.p.s. If you REALLY think I'm nice, maybe next time chime in against the religious trophies who tore me a new one, k? Thx.
Dear Breasts,

Please stop being so tender that every time I walk faster than a snail I feel the urge to cross my arms across my chest causing people to look at me like I have a giant peen attached to my head. Please stop being so swollen that I can't even fit into my bra. Also, tell Period to hurry up and get here so the fluid I am retaining will drain from Body. But, Period can only visit for 2 days before she'll be required to leave and not visit until next month and she'd better not leave a gawdawful mess this time.

Dear Spencer Pratt,

Quit being a little bitch.


Thanks for the evening spent procrastinating instead of studying, it was totally worth the all-nighter I will have to pull tomorrow.
How have I not found you before tonight?!


Dear God.

I want this cuddly lovenugget all to myself to snuggle, squeeze, and love forever and ever. Bye.

kjhfihfdajn look at its little paaaaaaaws.

cj from the bathroom: "fuckin' menstruation!!!!"
ML from kitchen: "is it like the elevator in THe SHining?"
cj: "oddly enough, yes."

ps. we love martinis. especially caramel apple ones. I introduced ML to her first mojito. IM a good 24 year old friend.

Dear Eyes,

You looked totally fine this morning, and you were ready for a long night of shooting come-hither glances at a boy you should not be doing this to. Why, then, did you allow a FUCKING PIECE OF METAL TO GET LODGED IN YOUR CORNEA??? Perhaps it is the workings of some higher force looking out for me, but it feels like...a fucking piece of metal was yanked out of my eyeball today. Somehow, this process left me with one ginormous pupil and one normal sized one. I am so desperate that I may try to exploit this monstrous deformity for a pity fuck. Eyes, you better not freak boys out tonight, even though you make me look like I'm on pcp.

Watching you,
Dear Dear Life Blog:

I am addicted to you. I am posting just to read my own posts. They aren't even funny anymore. This is very bad. So, starting today, I am quitting you. Cold turkey. For the rest of Octob...this week.

See you Monday,

PS Dear Monday--HURRY.
Dear "Stripper" on the Last Supper Video:

2 cardinal rules of stripping:

1. NEVER EVER go barefoot--ALWAYS wear 4-inch heels, preferably light up
2. Bring it up sexy

I mean, you kinda rocked it, but don't give up your day job or you'll end up being that stripper that the one lame dude takes pity on and gets a lap dance from, much to the dismay of the rest of the group.

You can still reach for the stars while grabbing your ankles,

THIS is basically the story of my life.

I'm obsessed.
Dear Alarm Clock,

I really wish you had gone off this morning. Of course, it would have helped if I had turned you on.

Looking like a hot mess,
Dear Stoner I Used to Bang,

Is it bad that I really hope you take me home with you again? Nevermind, that's a stupid question, I KNOW it's bad, so much so that I can't even think of any possible way to justify it without sounding like an idiot whore. You think that you have Buddha-like insight into the world but instead you are barely able to perceive your own idiocy through the purple haze enveloping your life. Still, somehow, you are fairly dynamite in the sack. You revealed your inner asswipe like months ago and I have been giving you unbelievably withering death-glares since then, but for some reason, I suddenly want your bones. Either say something else stupid so I can roll my eyes and walk away for another three months, or put it in me.

Which will you choose? Kisses? Or a slap in the grill piece?
Dear weird girl gyrating in the youtube video,

My favorite part is when you dance suggestively while practically sitting right on top of a picture of "The Last Supper". Faulty interior design scheme or subliminal message?
You be the judge.

Hoping Jesus can still stomach that supper,
Penelope Ann
this kills me

Dear Girls in LA,

Wow, since my last entry to Dear Life about you on Aug. 9th, it’s only taken you 80 something odd days to figure what a studly awesome dude I am. Three girls in one week? ‘Bout friggin time. Revenge hook-up with the chick who blew you off? Check. World-traveling bikini model? Check. Insanely hot blind date with pierced nipples? Check. Is it because the hair is growing out? Or is it the fact that I really stopped caring about women in general? Doesn’t matter, now the fun part begins. Thank goodness I’m a fantastic juggler. This could get expensive. And thank you all for making my peen seem like the only one in town. I’m gonna have some good stories for this blog...

I win at life,

When I'm married, this is what I'm going to spend my Friday nights doing. Making videos like this.

If you've never seen JackieDiamond24 on youtube, it's worth your time to check out.

this bitch is hardcore.
Dear Friend Who Just Asked if Neighbor's Dong was Like a Baby Arm Holding an Apple:

I'm never going to be able to give my kids apples now, thanks.

Maybe the worst mental image EVER,

a day in the life
Dear People Who Don't Get My Humor/Aren't as Funny as I Am:

RELAX. I'm not judging you. We'll just never be friends. EVER.

This is non-negotiable,
Dear Word "Redacted:"

You can be typed one-handed, which makes you feel so very VERY dirty and porn-like. I like that I spent my whole day at work today doing you.

So glad it's the left hand, too,
Dear Guy I Just Saw Out Jogging on Prosthetic Legs,


Dear b,

If you find a rich, wrinkly-balled guy and you hit it off. Please give his brother/best friend/father my number.

This girl needs to quit her job asap.

ain't no shame in workin it,
Dear No-Longer Potential Employer,

Maybe using a monologue from a storyline that ended with her NOT winning McDreamy's heart jinxed me. But whatevs, you seem to forget they (i.e. we) are meant to be.


Pity Party at My House (bring lottsa vodka (and I could use a McSteamy too)),
Dear Ex-boyfriend (known from here on as Dirty Bastard),

I am thrilled that you finally jumped on the bandwagon and joined Facebook today. However, I am going to have to decline the invitation to be friends. I don't think "'Dirty Bastard' and 'Ego-centric' worked together. They met through 'mutual friend'. They hooked up in 2006 and it resulted in 'Ego-centric' contracting gonnorhea, as she was then unaware of the copious amounts of unclean women 'Dirty Bastard' was previously and probably still boning" would be an appropriate friendship connection.

And don't even entertain the thought of poking me. God only knows what other lovely veneral diseases you are hosting and itching to share.

Get Lost,
Dear Life:

I so don't heart you today. I'm currently wondering the following:

1. Why I didn't sell out and marry a rich dude and have nothing to do but work out and have sex w/ wrinkly balls

Actually, that's pretty much it. That would solve...well...ALL of my problems.

Hoping I value myself more than that,

PS Dear Integrity: Please don't let me start hanging out at lobbyist/politician hang outs. I'd kill myself if I went red just to get in the black.
Dear Catholic Schooling:

I blame YOU for the 10/21/07 "Talk Sex" callers. But don't feel bad, b/c pretty soon America will have Dubya's "Abstinence Only" policy to thank for the stupidity and overpopulation of this country and you'll be off the hook.

I hate Mondays,
Someone posted this a few weeks ago....

Dear Crush,

This not telling our friends thing is getting OLD. Everyone knows and you know that. No one approves of our "nights together," however, I don't care. Yes, our friends may be right on one level or another. Yes, I may be more attractive than you. Yes, you may talk shit about me behind closed doors, but I do the same to you. And yes, you may be a 24 year-old, manic depressive alcoholic but you make sex fun, not gonna lie. I mean c'mon, there are not too many men I would have sex with on a bar stool in the middle of the bar while I was relatively sober. I also get that you don't want a commitment, but if my memory serves, I never asked for one. So man up, get over yourself and let's keep having a good time, regardless of popular opinion. They aren't the one you're going home with.


RE:Dear drunken pirates,

Holy shit this is about me. Here I am being a total narcissist and yet she's right, R&R does look better than me, she fucks better than me and most of the time I can be a total elephant cock but she still comes back. And you know what, she make sex fun as well; I cannot wait for the cockring. By the way the bar stool we fucked on was located in some upper-class bar called stool pigeons.

P.S. and your definition of "relatively sober" means being able to drive us back home before we both black out :)

Soulja boy
Dear 10/21/07 Callers On Sue Johanson's 'Talk Sex',

No, Megan, you can't get pregnant from anal sex.
Yes, Tracy, you can get pregnant even if he pulls out.
No, John, if a man masturbates for 7 days in a row, he won't go bald.

Consider lobotomies.

Did You Miss That Day Of 7th Grade???
Dear Jack Johnson,

Why do you have to write the perfect love songs that really DO make me want to stay home and make banana pancakes? :(

Dear Contractors,

Please refrain from naming anymore of your neighborhoods "The Cloister". That name just churns up all kinds of unpleasant mental images, namely one of many sickout fish eggs clumped together in a corner somewhere. Nobody wants to pay $450K for a house in a neighborhood that sounds like piles of clumpy things.

Dear "Sox Fans",

How long have you been a fan of the Red Sox? One year? Why do you care? Is it because they are the trendy team to follow? It's really unflattering how so many of you jump on the bandwagon of Sox fans because you just decided one day that it might be a cool thing to do. You wear the hat, cheer for the team, yet probably don't even know anything about a single player on the team or even if they actually won their last game. You are a Southerner, probably hate Boston, and New England in general. What is with the facade? No tride and true fan will ever take you seriously. Get real and stick with the Braves. Thanks.


PS: I'm not a Sox fan, have not and never will live in or around the Boston area and this issues pisses me off. I can't imagine how people who actually have a vested interested in the team feel about you fakers.
Dear Tira The Dog,

Not gonna lie. Picking up your shit....not my favorite.

For Reals,

Dear Kim Kardashian,

I'm sorry, i still don't understand why you're famous again.


P.S. maybe it has something to do with those 2 country hams shoved down the back of your juicy couture tracksuit.
dear i don't know what to put here,

last night was the singular worst night of my life.
all i want to do is cry and i can't.
i guess this is what getting a taste of one's own medicine feels like.

i honestly hate my life.
Dear Guy Who Wrote This,

Is this a joke or are you just completely strung out?


Dear Boys Who Rest Their Arm on The Back Of My Chair When They Talk To Me, Place Their Hand On The Small Of My Back At Bars, Shield Me From Traffic When Crossing The Street, And Take The Top/Forward Position When Handholding,

Well played. Those subtle bodyguardish protective male gestures do crazy things to me. It's like taking a blanket and wrapping it around my ice-cold wenchheart.


i just got a thousand butterflies in my tummy when i looked at this picture.

Dear Cash Warren,

Hot outfit.

Dear Irma:

As the provebial "that guy," trust me. If you just ignore it he won't take the hint. Ginormous-crush-boy doesn't wan't to pick up on your hints. You have to be blunt.

We IDLYITW (I-dont-like-you-in-that-way) boys come in different breeds, like puppies. Puppies always try to do what you don't want them to. We don't want to hear "no." (Can ya blame us?) But how hard we push it depends on our breed.

Some puppies, like Irish Setters, are high-strung and take a hint from a raised eyebrow. We're sensitive and touchy and go scampering away and howl in rejection-based self pity for months if you so much as make angry eye-contact. We take direction well. Being rough on a setter is just mean - it's unnecessary.

Then there are those of us like Chesapeake Bay Retrievers. It takes a fucking shock-collar just to get our attention - and then you have to move like lightning to make your point before the opportunity's gone. Miss that opportunity we'll be oblivious again in no time: trying to sit on the couch with you and lick your face all over again. A smack in the chops is necessary because we don't want to hear it and are trying to exhaust you into submission.. The required range of forcefulness lies between "firm" and "restraining order" in these cases. Some consider this to be on account of the breed's "strong personality." Personally, I think it has more to do with being "stubborn" and "slow"

Ginormous-crush-boy is a Chesapeake. Get his attention and just do it. It's necessary and it's not being a bitch. It's actually very straightforward and blunt (which is a very rare trait in bunnies for some reason). If you were to kick a Setter pup who could take a hint, that'd be mean. But this boy ain't sweet and sensitive! He's probably a "just friends" creep. Sack up, hit that shock collar and bad-news him, already!

He won't thank you, but he'll get the picture.

Happy Dog-Whispering,

p.s. If you're desperate to get the message across, try smacking with a rolled up newspaper, blowing a whistle and giving your commands in a "big angry voice." I don't know if this will improve reception, but the image in my head is hilarious.
Dear Guy Who Clearly Has a Ginormous Crush On Me,

This makes me really sad. I have done to my best to subtly clue you in to the fact that not only do I not ever want to go out with you, I really don't even want to be friends with you. When you casually bring up hanging out, or getting some dinner, or whatever, I either change the subject or make a joke about why it would be a bad idea. I practically ignore you when we run into each other in person, and I even told you that I am not into dating right now. And yet you continue to try to flirt with me, which makes me shudder, and now you've gone and actually asked me out. Except you made it sound like it would be just a 'friends hanging out' thing, which puts me in a very bad position. If I say yes, you'll think I have some interest, which I do not. But if I say no, then I look like a huge bitch because then its like I don't even want to be friends with you, which I actually really don't. Its a huge shame that you are so incredibly physically unappealing, and what sucks even more is that you don't even have the personality to pull off such fugliness! I am torn between feeling incredibly guilty about talking so much shit about you, and incredible disgust at the thought of you whacking off to the image I accidentally planted in your head earlier when I told you that I needed to go shower because I didn't want to talk to you any more. God. Sometimes, beauty is such a curse. (Karma, if you're listening, I totally don't mean that--I love being beautiful. Please don't disfigure me)

If I just ignore the fact that you asked me out, will you bring it up again or just let it go?


P.S. Dear Guys Who are Actually Hot and Fun and not Ugly and Annoying,

Please ask me out now.
Dear Hot Pair From Undergrad,

Unlike other couples that irritate me with their seemingly blissful (but we all know completely bland) relationships, I enjoy stalking you every few months and reading your wall-to-walls. See, both of your characters always intrigued me individually. Star athletes, bodies like gods, unabashed confidence, and feisty personalities. When you got together senior year, it came out of nowhere, but i liked it. you were the couple that I fell in love with. Why? Because you both have such strong characters that I knew it would be rocky. Rocky and hot. From afar, I witnessed you fight like cats and dogs, but I knew you were crazy about each other. Here we are 3 years later, and your relationship is still on and off, but it is so endearing. I love it when you guys are together and hate when you break up. There is something about your dysfunctionality that is so charming to me, I can't get enough. It's like Big and Carrie. Please accidentally get pregnant, continue the dysfunctional nature of your relationship, and produce children which will surely be as attractive as Brooklyn and Romeo Beckham. Or get engaged, break up, have a passionate reunion, get married, and live happily ever after. Whichever. Just make it dramatic.

Your imperfections make you so likeable.

Secretly Routing For You,

P.S. Sometimes when I read your inside jokes, I like to pretend I understand them and am best friends with both of you.
Dear Guy I Know,

You're in a relationship. Cool. Good for you. Seriously. Congrats. If you have any tips on how to not be so egocentric that being with someone else is actually a possibility, feel free to enlighten me.

But I digress, while I celebrate your lovelife, I have some advice for you: Tell your GF to stop declaring her love for you on your wall every 3rd post. It irritates me. Variations of "I LOVE YOU!!!!" and "I miss you too baby!!!:)" are just plain silly. The point is that you're IN a RELATIONSHIP (i.e. you most likely TALK to each other every day or so, therefore, you have the opportunity to SAY these things...not formally display them on the internet in case anyone forgot you were in love...which would be no one).

I counted. Since you've been together, your woman has written the L-word on your wall 14 times. Guess what mama, everyone knows you love your boo.

Maybe I'm just j. Wait, no. Because i still wouldn't do that shit.

Just to rebel...I'm not even gonna be FRIENDS with my next woadie on facebook. Why? Because I respect the facebook community and realize that people would probably rather see 2 geriatrics going at it than be subjected to mushball lovebird chitchat.

SIDEBAR: I swear to God, the next time I see someone writing some gay shit like "you're the bestest girlfriend ever!!!" or "i wuv youuuuu", I will publicly call them out for being tools.

Calm Down With The FB PDA,

P.S. People need to stop doing day countdowns til they're next reunion. People want to read funny things posted by other people, not a display of how many hours it will be until your next coitus. Sick.
Dear Neighbor:

3 things:

1. Don't act like you're not impressed that I drunk dialed you to come meet me at a strip club and then ignored you to stare at the hot HOT women working the pole.
2. When I tell you I want more sex,, the correct response should be "I think I may be love you" NOT "no, I'm tapped out for the morning...*yawn*."
3. I faked it.

Your massive dong touched my heart (literally) but you maybe didn't,
Dear Self-Control:

Game, set, and oh yeah...match.

Can I get a shout out for Alcohol and Early 30's Female Sex Drive over here?,
Dear Cubs/Bears,

I know it has been awhile and one of you has done some good, but let's get serious. i have been a fan. i have cheered through good and bad for the both of you. i stayed up till 3 AM to watch you on TV (it was in Iraq). i have been here through a goat, through grossman, and through sosa. can i please have some affirming life action? what have i done to be a fan of you? sometimes i wonder if you are worth my time. i just wish you were a little more giving. i get so close...... then let down (remembering radiohead now). life is too difficult with you in it, yet i won't have it any other way

always a fan. always let down
chicago fan1
Dear Deaf Guy Whose Hand I Was Squeezing For A Good 10 Minutes At The Haunted House,

I'm aware that I don't know you. At all. Never met you. Never will. Yet, we were entangled as if we knew each other's deepest secrets and hearts' desires.

You were a good sport though. I was a woman in distress. Those teen perverts with masks and creepy cackles lurking around every dark bend were scary as shit though!

I hope I didn't break any of your fingers with my carelessness. I would hate to think my fear somehow damaged your best tools for communication.

What's The ASL Sign For "Let's Be Best Friends"?
dear friday night,

sorry for dressing like a 90 year old woman (aka the cardigan you were adorning tonight) and then coming home drunk to work on the job search. probably not the best plan of action.

let's try for success tomorrow,
Dear self:

Sometimes I wonder about you - I wonder if you're really as level headed as you would like to believe. Yet here you are, on the verge of what may only *potentially* be a bad conversation with the love of your life set to start in several hours, and you're beside yourself with thoughts, many of which are not good. Sure these thoughts will subside, unlike years ago, you "deal" a hell of a lot better than you used to. I just think it's your idiot heart making things difficult on you because it's afraid of being hurt after it's laid itself out there…

I'll bring the tissues (just in case).
Dear Guy Who Dicked Me Over Long Ago(Thank God),

WHY?! Why do you feel the need to drunk dial me and confess your undying love. You were the one who stopped returning my calls, and never showed up when you said you would. Now all of the sudden you regret that you "lost the best thing that ever happened in your life" (your words, not mine). You make references to "when we were together." We were never together, I used you to buy me beer cause I wasn't old enough and you used me as arm candy, which I was completely OK with since it led me into the arms/beds of some of your hot friends.

So please, stop asking if "we" would ever have another chance, there was never a chance to begin with, and there never will be!

Lose my number,

PS: Stop telling me about all the other girls you could be calling, hang up, and call them, they might actually care!
Dear Half Day of Work:

Thank you THANK YOU! You have allowed me to wear a dress short enough to show my naughty no-no WITH cowboy boots AND leave at 3 to go drink w/ my little friends. If Brit had offed herself like we all expected I'd be convinced she'd relocated her spirit into my bod.

Oh, and way cool to throw the neighbor a surprise half day and convince him to start drinking early, too. the fact that we can sleep in tomorrow really adds a whole new element to this dynamic...


Dear Condoms in My Nightstand:

I looked you over last night and I'm not sure you'll even begin to be adequate for Neighbor. This is unacceptable for 2 main reasons:

1. He'll be all, "Yeah, my dong is huge." with inflated chest and ego to match OR

2. He'll pretend it's fine and either
a. lose blood flow in his special purpose and end up with severe and permanent dong damage OR
b. it'll be stretched so tightly that it'll break during, not only totally negating its SOLE purpose in life, but probably will also sling shot around in there and after doing harm to my internal organs, it'll end up lodged in my throat and my mother will have to identify me in the morgue and my cause of death will be "Asphyixation by Prophylactic."

I think I'll risk a trip to the (STD/fetus-free) clinic...
Dear Brain,

Dating the manager of the hotel that we live in? File under “Potentially Poor Life Decision for the Sake of Literary Value.”


P.S. I guess we’ll at least get our cable fixed. Maybe a free continental breakfast or two.
Dear Life-

I hate weddings.

Dear New Shoes,

I adore you, you are effin hot, please dont let me break my head, neck, elbows, arms, hip, leg, knee, ankle or foot. I really dont want to fall ass over tit in my cute dress and spray tan i need to look somewhat elegant when im extremely drunk.
Shoes take note you make my legs go for miles you could possibly get me a bf.


um, this is hilarious.
Dear Not-So-New Crush,

Thanks for the e-mail. Gah, there is something about you that is so fatherlike and comforting. Hold me.

Dear T:

Seriously, you are so wise.

Asking my guy friends to get off me and/or stop boning my friends behind my back,
Dear Waxing Woman Who Takes Tweezers to Those Pesky Strays:

I appreciate it and all, but that quick, chicken-pecking-for-feed-motion you are using is getting dangerously close to my love button.

I'm not sure whether I'm more afraid of you or Neighbor's ween,
b's vag

Dear Life,


Dear Guys who tell the Hotties you Dig that you’re Cool with being “Just Friends”:

No, liars, you’re not. You’re cockblockers who goaltend even though you can’t score. And, no, I’m not talking to guys who get along with women that are attract-IVE but you’re not dying to bone… This is just you two-faced toolboxes that are mad attract-ED to a bunny but pretend to be “not dying” to avoid the Heisman, proceed to torpedo every other dude in the vicinity and finally pull some creepy-ass stalker shit on the bunny who’s your supposed “friend.”

Clue time! We NEVER accept being “just friends” with the hottie we chase, gentlemen. The only reason to put up with “friending” is to switch targets to HER friend. But that’s not what friends do, is it? Like if I only hang with you to try to bang your hot sister? What? Oh, THAT’S creepy?

You “just friend” guys make shit so hard. WHY? The friend angle NEVER works, morons. “Just” means “no sex…ever.” Get it? The only things for you to do in the zone are suffer forever or pounce once she trusts you or is vulnerable.

And what happens to a bunny who has the “friend zone” go “creep zone” one time too many? She gets jaded, that’s what. And jaded women only do two things:
a) objectify hot-boys on an as-needed-only basis, and;
b) manipulate every other guy who acknowledges the hotness

…leaving us non-hot-boys terminally SOL.

Way to stack the deck MORE in favor of guys who need no help. Just turn gay, retards. Men don’t say “no” so you’ll never need to protect your little egos.

Dear Office Cleaning Lady,

I totally appreciate your all your efforts to keep my little area neat and tidy. My trash is always emptied on Tuesday and Friday just like the little sticker says it will. And you dust with more zest and joy than anyone I have ever seen. One request though, please stop dusting my coffee. I understand the little paper cup is so cute it could be mistaken for a figurine on my desk, but seriously, it is a functional cup I am trying to use to enjoy the super tasty motor-oil-sludge they spike with caffeine downstairs so I can actually avoid the sleep deprived coma mister Life keeps threatening me with… So please quit screwing with my cup, im running out of change for the crap…

Heartfelt Thanks from the Pasty White Girl With Very Clean Desk… and f-ed up coffee.
Another J
Dear b,

I'm hella jeal of your giant peen.


Dear A:

Ever seen anyone churning butter? Yeah, that's kinda what last night was like. Holy Christ.

Gonna up the shoulder work so I'm ready for NEXT time,

PS he nice? Dunno. I've been blinded by the ween and now almost don't care. Is that wrong?

**note to self: it might be smart to get to know him. maybe you could keep the peen long-term that way**
Dear Readers:

I teared up a little at the interest in my date. (I'm guessing it's mostly b/c of the dong of all time, but that's okay.)

Since I didn't get what I wanted (seriously, WTF self-control?!?!), I'll tell you all this:

I could wield that thing like a light saber.

Can't wait to grab it and make that "wahh-wahh" sound,
Dear AARP,

First off let me thank you for the really nice letter you sent me, inviting me to apply for membership to your find organization. I especially like the part which said "You and I are of a special generation." It was sweet. Unfortunately, I am turning 23, not 52, next week-and your letter did nothing to soothe my debilitating fear of aging.

Would kind of like to start my retirement though,
Dear His Holiness the Dalai Lama,

I'm so sorry my attention is not on you right now. I should be so excited that I get to have my picture taken with you and some one-on-one meditation time but I'm not. I'm way too excited for the tequila driven BFF reunion next weekend. I need to pack hot sexy dresses to match the tequila and farm animals.

You understand right? I mean you are THE MAN when it comes to understanding.


P.S. Don't worry about China, she thinks she's all that and a bag of chips. Whatev, You're a total rock star!
Dear b,

Was giant peen everything you'd hoped for? i'm going to need a metric measure for imagery purposes. i don't even think i remember what a penis looks like anymore so i hope you don't mind me living vicariously through your hand jobs.

Is he nice?

Dear Self-Control:

What's your deal? Why are you here? You were noticeably absent in college and I KNOW you remember those 593,852 randos that were okay to throw my legs in the air for. Why aren't you letting me do the same for neighbor/monster ween boy? Even AFTER he demanded TWICE that I get naked and he'd do the same?!

Seriously, you are a fickle, evil bitch and I WILL win this battle. I've enlisted my friends Alcohol and Early 30's Female Sex Drive. You have no chance.

Might as well wave that white flag now,

PS Thanks for at least relenting a LITTLE last night and letting me touch the dong. *sigh* How did you recover from that, btw?!?!? Well done.
Dear Tuesday Night Work Party,

Kudos for having super-hot Australian CEO hit on you. Seriously, he's a super hot dreamy mess. Maybe you should have stuck close to him instead of going on a drinking binge with a bunch of your co-workers that may or may not talk to you ever again.

Not so great? The fact that you really don't remember the rest of the evening and that you may or may not have tried to get two male co-workers to fight over your affection, is slightly troubling.

More troubling? The giant bruise on the palm of your left hand, elbow and the mild concussion on your head.

Most troubling? Waking up in the shower, which you were apparently sleeping in for over 4 hours. Note to self, teach dog CPR in case I drown next time.

Good job, Tuesday night. Now I need that new job even more than ever because showing my face around this place sure smarts.

*Sobriety is worth a shot,


*pun intended
Dear b,

how was your date with the giant peen?

the world is waiting to know,
Dear sleep:

I need more of you… soon. Granted my reasons for ignoring you last night were honorable (and fantastic) in their own right, but when this laptop begins looking more and more like an item that could be viably used as a pillow… well, then I know I've missed you. For now, I will try to drown you with caffeine, nicotine, and avoid the tryptophan laced lunch stuff downstairs.

We will rendesvous this evening, and I will enjoy you greatly.

Where's my blankie?

Dear Ellen,

Please don't cry. :(

Want A Hug?
dear ovaries,

all i want to do is eat massive amounts of cookie dough/cry/sleep for a week.
partly because he isn't calling and i'm broke,
but mostly because you hate me.

stop making me swell like a fucking balloon,

ps- b, i'm totally living vicariously through you right now... can we say, jealous? argh.
Dear Basketball Players At My Alma Mater,

I was just going through facebook. Man, those sweatsuits still get me everytime. Something about a tall man in sweats is enough to make me want to ride him like a pogo stick. Especially the hoodies. God, the hoodies.

It's just enough 8-mile bad boy and cuddly all at the same time.

Ok, I'm overstimulated thinking about this...

Dear Neighbor:

If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight. (What, like Blondie can quote Jules and I can't?)

No, but seriously. I have a feeling that b/c of nerves, not only will I forget to tell you I had fun but I will probz also forget the entire evening. It's not you--it's your ween. I didn't do those deep knee bends and so now we're gonna need LOTS of alcohol and probably a shoe horn to get things started.

Please god don't let it look like a murder scene, aka, my first time,
Dear Future Bridesmaids,

Please do not get fat. Nothing looks weirder then a beautifully dressed, svelte wedding party with a 350 pound girl plunked on the end. I'm not saying I will cut you from the line-up, but please don't put me in the position to have to make that decision.

Shallow with no prospects for marriage anyways,
Dear Dream This Morning About A Catheter Being Punched Into My Urethra,

Wow, that was unpleasant imagery. Thank God Almighty that was just a dream. I wonder what Freud would conclude about you? That I am about to have a horrible UTI? That my tumultuous life will ultimately lead to incontinence? That I'm petrified about the procedure on my vag that I will have in the next month?

You were scarier than the scene in E.T. with all the scientists dressed in white plastics suits with filtered oxygen supplies.

Never Sleeping Again,
Dear Vodka,

I'm nearly speechless right now due to your massive act of betrayal this weekend. We'd been friends for so many years now … I trusted you! Then you decide to stab me in the back at a most crucial time in my life. Not cool.

Did you get me ragingly inebriated at my man-of-interest's party while meeting all of his friends for the first time, out of spite? I realize I've been doting on the gin lately but that's just doesn't excuse kicking me into a state worthy of an inaugural visit to the ER. Very not cool.

Way to almost ruin my fresh relationship with the rare guy in this universe who has managed to maintain my interest beyond the third date.

Never touching you again, you Russian Bastard!

P.S. The catheter was a key feature in the ER visit you fueled. That's just unforgivable, so don't even try to redeem yourself … ever.