Dear Bear Grylls from "Man vs. Wild",

Good God, I want to do you. No, I want you to do me. Hard.

THANK YOU for finding an excuse to disrobe and show your bare ass (perfection) nearly EVERY episode. I don't care that you get your nutrition from grubs, raw snakes, and various animal's testicles in front of my very are still sexy as shit. You animal, you.

I wish I could meet you. I would just stand next to you and smell your manliness. Mmmmm

Dear this past week,

You can suck my non-existent dick. Seriously. Three midterms the week after Thanksgiving? Did you expect me to study while I was drinking a hole in my liver and eating my weight in turkey? I think my family would have thought it was rude if I whipped out the physics textbook while we were having coffee and pie. Also, you and your friend, the facebook newsfeed, need to shut the f*ck up. Why the need to twist the knife you've been shanking me with when I was taking a study break on Wednesday night? After hours of being miserable and feeling stupid, I didn't need to log on to facebook and see that extremely-attractive-possibly-too-cute-for-me boy (who I hooked up with and have been nursing a terrible crush for) has a girlfriend. A hot one. And they look really effin' happy in his profile picture, making cutesy-kissy faces at each other. I mean, it's not like I wanted to be his boo forever, but couldn't she be at least a little less physically perfect? Thanks for letting me know there's one less good-looking single boy out there.

At least my best friend, Friday night, is helping me out here. I get to see my girl M.I.A. tonight.

I'm going to dance this one out so hard I'll forget all about you.

Peace, Bitch!
Dear my new roommates,

Three Australian Boys. Three. Australian. Boys. Given my past track record with Australians (and my penchant for making out with them) this seems like a poor idea from the get go. But you guys are cool, and friendly, and seem to like me a lot for some reason. We have similar hobbies like.... drinking. and drinking more. I think this has the potential to be super fun as long as I can restrain myself from jumping your bones.

Now let's go get crunk,

PS. When I smile and nod like an idiot, its really just because i can't understand a word you guys are saying. Try to talk slower and less jumbley.
Dear Drunk Packing,

You'd think after multiple previous encounters with your repurcussions as well as a few angrily penned Dear Life entries from various other contributors that I'd have learned my lesson, but nooooooo. When will I learn that you are always a terrible idea?! I tried to pack for a weekend trip last night after happy hour, and woke up this morning burrowed halfway into a mountain of clothes that were strewn about my bed and NOT, in fact, in my suitcase where they were supposed to be. Thanks to you, Drunk Packing, I had to sacrifice my morning Starbucks run to cram handfuls of random articles of clothing into my suitcase before rushing off to work. It is not gonna be pretty when I unpack tonight in search of a cute Going Out-fit. Plus where I'm going this weekend it's like 10 degrees and snowy and I have a sinking feeling that in my drunken brain it was still early fall because I really wanted to wear that cute new dress I just bought and can't afford. UGH.

Gonna Have To Drink Til I Can't Feel the Weather,
Dear Liver,

Yeah I know I worked you hard in the days before I left town to come to England. I'm sorry if you thought you would be getting a respite here, i really am. But now that I've moced in with the three Australian boys who regularly have a beer (or five) to unwind every day after work, I need you to step it up a notch. Tomorrow night we are going out, Aussie style, so I'm going to need you to bring your A-game. The level of drinking they are capable of is virtually incomprehensible to me and we're going to need to take em beer for beer.

Don't worry,you can sleep when we're dead,
Dear Fellow Human Males:

Video Games? Sure, they’re entertaining and technologically impressive. I give you that.

But they are Kryptonite to women, fucktards! Here’s what women think of video fun: “Look! A bunch of cute boys in a room ignoring me. BYE!”

And you “don’t dance?” Uh…that’s something women do in DROVES. If you even show up and bounce you gain points. Actually become GOOD at it, then you can be seen as “fun.” You know, somebody about whom she thinks, “Oh, we have to call HIM, we’re going out!”

On second thought…nevermind. Carry on. I’ll pick up your slack.

Just wondering how our species isn’t extinct,
Dear Hot Vengeful Women Angry with your Boyfriends:

I heart you SO much. You use sex and hotness as a WMD. When you decide to cheat on your perfect, square-jawed J. Crew model men with somebody successful but fug, just to turn the knife that bit more (to eleven), you make my day. And when you pick my non-hottie self as the instrument of revenge you make an excellent choice. I am doing well enough AND un-pretty enough to give your man’s bloated ego that double-whammy pounding that we both need and love so much.

So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for letting me tap the otherwise unattainable you with little effort, AND giving me reason to smile smugly at every Mr. Perfect, never-worked-for it, dumbass prettyboy for weeks following.

Never, ever change,
Dear Girls Who Claim To Be My Best Friends,

I know boys suck, a lot of the time...believe me, I know. But, please try to refrain from talking about how you're all boycotting boyfriends and relationships and how anyone who doesn't is a loser when *I'm* in a relationship, and a pretty good one at that. Not to mention I'm clearly making a point to spend time with you fools and not him 24/7. Next time, think before you let out your word vomit.

Insert Foot Into Mouth,
Dear Life,

Number of weddings i have partially been responsible for (because the
bride asked me if she should date the man to become her future
husband): Two (2).

Number of remotely successful relationships i have been in: 0.

Sick Of Yenta-ism,
Dear Blondie,

OMG. I have spent the day worrying about your lady parts. How can this happen? Most importantly, could it happen to me? In your honor I have removed every battery operated sex toy from my home. During my sex toy exfoliation, I swear my vag cried. I have promised her to buy new ones immediately under the condition that you lead me toward a safer option. Please advise, no need for anyone else to make the same purchase that lead you to such a distressing situation.

fearful of third degree burns,
Dear Coworker,

You are not fooling anyone. When you say you were "working from home" but show up the next day with your luggage, it is clear that you have just arrived from your Thanksgiving break cruise.

Hope you got seasick,
Dear Resume,

Lick my balls…. I'm sorry, that was crude…. scratch that, I meant it, lick my balls! One page to sum up my life? I'm not a fucking golem living in cave. Besides, how the fuck am I supposed to define myself on a piece of paper, there are a lot of douche bags who look cool on paper.

Please oh please let me be that douche. I'm working on it, really I am. I fucked your mom and she liked it; I'm going to take her out to a nice fish dinner and never call her again. I can sign you up for porn, I know your e-mail so don't sweat it, you don't even have to give me your credit card, I swiped your wallet while you were in the bathroom…but I digress.

Resume, all I really want to know is why you are so deceiving. You look so easy, like the hooker at the end of my street. But every time I wanna go get my rocks knocked I realize you could be a cop waiting to fuck me over. So resume, ho ho ho, don't fuck me, and help me get my jollies.

Merry Christmas,
Lost to Religion
Dear Shameless,

ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU for moving into a flat with four hot aussies!!!! The only thing hotter than one aussie is four aussies under one roof. And the only thing hotter than four aussies under one roof is four aussies under one roof with a CF in the middle.

Can't WAIT to Come Visit!,
Holy Shit, my vag is petrified now.

Dear Vibrator,

I am speechless. You caught fire. Super close to my vag. I really don't know what else to say to you about that. I am still staring at you in disbelief.

I am one hot lay,
Dear Life,

I liked you significantly more once i had woken up this morning to the familiar sound of air running through my heat vents. My cat seemed genuinely confused by it, but i think she has taken quite nicely to the change. Getting out of the shower is going to be so much more awesome this morning!

Happiest I've been in a long time-

(!!!!!!!!!!! heat in my apartment!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Dear Boyfriend: The Real Reason I Don't Want to Hear About Your New Phone

I think I should probably tell you about my issue with 'the phone' in writing because I have yet to be able to vocalize it, and you don't seem to get it. Or feel that there is not a problem, in the least. However, now it is just becoming a trigger for me, and I want to poke you through the temple with the really 'good' chopsticks every time you discover something 'new' about the phone so here goes:

We had a discussion a week ago about 'birthday's', and how you were so broke from not working for three months (due to the strike) and were wanting to catch up on your bills and such. I agreed and said we would do something in Mexico for both of our birthdays. You then called in sick for what I think was the 3rd time since you had been back to work in a period of a month (remember I have been working at least 12 hours a day with my new job since September, and am really, entirely, beat and really, really not into hearing you complain about your boring little job where you a) don't have to think and b) don't have to prove yourself a billion times a day), and then came home with a new $500 phone which you tell me you have put on your credit card. True, you needed a new phone. And I wouldn't have a problem with it, except that you seem to have a) totally forgot about my birthday and b) have not been able to stop talking about the phone since and c) have not made any attempt to pay back the money you have owed me since before the strike. Yet you have always had booze, drugs, a good time out, etc. (Oh, and earlier last week after I got home late (again) from work and you didn't feel like cooking and ordered a pizza and didn't want to 'put it on your credit card'….)

Honestly, I woke up on my birthday feeling rather annoyed, and the more I thought of it, the more annoyed I became. And the fact that I didn't even receive so much as a card, flowers, whatever, was a bit off-putting, not to mention embarrassing when people at the party asked about it. I don't know, but it just seems that I don't figure in the big picture. It was embarrassing to a point on Saturday when I had to take my head out of the oven to go and answer the door because you were too busy showing off your phone to our various guests.

So, yeah, basically I feel pretty much not very important, and also do not wish to hear any more about 'the phone'. Like seriously. Ever.
Dear Self,

You are up for a promotion at work. The boss said you are "at the top of his list." Try not to blow it by making idiotic and disrespectful remarks to that same boss while he's still in the process of sizing you up, seeing if you have the chops to make it as an editor. Be humble and keep your distance, moron. And keep your nose clean by staying off Dear Life when he could be walking up behind you.

With your best interests at heart,
Dear New Office Crush,

I just wanted to say I really enjoy our witty banter and semi-inappropriate flirting. It's fun and you are the most normal/cool person in this sea of middle-aged workaholic finance geeks. You used to have long hair and travel the world, and that's pretty sweet. Plus you are uber unattainable and I know you aren't even a skeezeball -- that's a great wife+kid+dog combo you got going for you. This only adds to your appeal. I know we aren't even technically flirting really, and you are just nice and funny, but I will continue to cling to our little interactions because they light up my day a little bit. Plus, you balance out the ball of awkward energy that is "I Can't Take This" Co-Worker, who lurks by my desk and talks to me unrelentingly about things that make me want to VOM.

YOU Can Come Lurk By Me Anytime,
Dear 40-Something Balding Coworker,

Remember when I had an intense, inexplicable attraction to you for about two seconds? Yeah, I didn't get it either. I guess it was the whole powerful/jerky card. But now I find out -- turns out you're not an asshole, you are just a big dork! The reason you were avoiding eye contact and normal social conventions such as saying "hi" in the hallway? Not because you are too busy and important, but because you are too socially awkward to accomplish these things. Awww. Kinda cute. But I'm glad that's over because now I have a new office crush to think about -- and he actually talks to me!

You Like The Civil War Too Much and I Think There's A Reason You're Unmarried Still,
Dear Hot Indian Friend-

Please stop distracting me from Boy In D.C. Your flirting attempts and princely ways of treating me like the anglo princess i am are very inviting.

I mean, Boy In D.C. said we were only "seeing each other", right? By the way, WHAT does that mean? Anyone? Anyone??

My Heart Is Still In D.C.-
Dear G,

So you're going on date 3 in a one-week period with this guy. A nice guy, a decent one that treats you with respect and talks on your level, has a good job, loves his family, and is genuine and kind. Please, please please do not screw this up with your belief that guys like this simply don't exist. Hang on to this one and act like a grownup who is capable of being in a grownup relationship, and stop thinking that you only fall for the asshole guys you think you can change. I am crossing my fingers for you because you don't want this guy to be the one that got away.

Smarten Up,
Dear Gmail Loading Message "This Seems To Be Taking Longer Than Usual",

That's what he said.

Dear Dave,

While we should have been impressed that your 2 best friends were Cory Lidle (R.I.P.)and Chris Moneymaker, that's probably not something you should feel the need to work into conversation within the first 5 minutes of meeting people. Or that the fact that you're "worth millions", yet readily admitted that you don't look like it.

And way to nonchalantly throw your keys to your hummer on our table.

And offer to put us up in the Lowes Plaza for the evening after buying our drinks all night.

And stop staring at Adrienne's tits. Or telling her you like her lip liner when she isn't wearing any.

Thanks for the drinks, bitch, but your were not fooling anyone by saying you were "just real". If you really were real, you wouldn't feel the need to say it.

A & Mo
Dear Period,

We meet again, my old menses-nemesis. This is starting to become a pattern.

Sure, back when I was getting porked on the regs, your monthly visit had a novelty "guess who's still not preggo" factor to it, which at the time was something of a slutty relief. But now that I'm getting less action than the map room at Sherri Shepherd's house (seriously, I am considering converting my vajizzer to a parking pad so I can at least collect a few bob, if I ain't gettin no knob), the little uterine jazz hands you keep shaking with every moon cycle are really unnecessary.

And from a financial perspective - as well as a laundry one - this whole "2 hours per 'pon" situation has really GOT to stop.

Riding a serious heme-depletion bummer,
Dear Sex,

I miss you. I really would like to meet you again soon. Actually, sex, can you possibly come with a boy attached that'll stick around? Like, two for one? A sexy boy who'll will fuck me, and stay around and continue fucking me. I love that idea. Sex, this boy has to be at least 5'9" with a large penis, and bedroom decency. Thanks, dude.

Dear Friend Turned Landlord-

HEY. CAN YOU GO PLAY YOUR FUCKING GUITAR, SING AND STOMP SOMEWHERE ELSE? Its really starting to bother the FUCK out of me. And it REALLY MAKES ME HATE YOU. A LOT. I'm living BELOW you. I have a script to memorize for tomorrow and thanks to your AWESOME FOOT STOMPING i am not going to be able to recite my lines WITHOUT STAMPING MY OWN FEET. GO be a rockstar on the floor ABOVE YOU. The carpet in your MUSIC STUDIO will help cushion the noise. WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?

Praying to god you pass out drunk soon-
Dear Anxiety,

You cripple my life. You had me awake until 5:30 a.m. last night. And because of you, I paid no attention to anything anyone was saying to me today.

Also, my good friend, Avoidance, is how I combat you. She is a bitch too. She makes me completely unproductive and only gives me more of you to the nth power.

Could you please calm down? I need to breathe. Additionally, people usually when I'm socially reciprocal.

Thank You,
Dear Delaware Duckies,

What have I become? A duck murderer? A man who takes pleasure in killing innocent animals? A gay duck assassin? Sounds about right. Sorry quackers this cracker likes to shoot you up and eat you out. Next time don't fly close to the gun shots.

Love Your Redneck Gay,
Dear DC Gays at Results,

Stop objectifying me because of my thin youthful bod and my nice size cock. Sure I'm hot and many a man would be happy to bed me, but since I left Nashville I've actually developed standards. So if you plan on ogling me in the locker room, peaking up my towel in the sauna or staring at my cock as I soap myself up in the gang shower, make sure not to have a busted face or a nasty bod, cause let's face it, no one ever said I was an angel.

This dragon needs to be released from its cage by a keeper,
Dear Boy From Home Who Won't Stop Calling Me (how did you even get my number anyway?),

So I happened to stumble upon your myspace page today and found some very disturbing posts on your wall from 15 and 16 year old girls. You are 32! That is just wrong, not to mention illegal. I've always wondered why you continue to call me and profess your love even though I live 2000 miles away, and have made it completely obvious that I have no all!

Definately not answering your calls/texts anymore,
Dear Last Friday's Date,

Thank you for a lovely evening. Your taste in restaurants, wine and semi-undiscovered fabulous bars is impressive. The conversation was also stimulating, although not over the top in regards to commonalities or chemistry. But I liked you all the same and thought I might want to continue on to other dates.

Then came your good night kiss. ummmm... So, you obviously know that an open mouth kiss does involve tongue...You were able to work that manuever out after awhile. But the whole closed mouth, smush my face with such force to the point of suffocating me, then rocking back and forth as if there were tongues excavating areas in the mouth (although your lips were closed) for extremely and uncomfortably long periods of time gives me pause.

I have had quite a few great kisses in my day. I have gotten quite a few compliments on my lip action. But I haven't experienced something like that since I was in second grade and my friends and I used to "pretend" we were making out with our dolls like they do in soap operas. Not only are my teeth bruised from you pressing so hard, but I think this may be a new version of drug-free date rape. (Just smooosh until she passes out and bingo!)

Seriously, you're 31. Was this your first kiss? Please don't be offended if I don't return your calls.

Dear Sex,

Where did you go? You have to be somewhere, but for the life of me I can't beat the information out. I thought we had a good thing going, but you just up and disappeared. It's been so long that I've started watching the Real World again. What am I thirteen? Although my birth certificate says no, the constant wood begs to differ. I even found myself thinking that I loved New York's boob job. I think that when I have sex again I'll be finished sooner than OJ was in the media. Oh well, here's to getting back on the horse.

Lost to Religioin
Dear Friend Turned Landlord-

I really shouldn't have let you pawn me into renting the apartment in your house. First of all, i have not had heat for weeks. The average temperature has been hovering just above freezing DURING THE DAY. Thankfully the water pipes have not burst due to this. Secondly, i resent you for telling me that its ok to break my lease and move out and find something better for myself since there have been so many problems with this apartment (no tiling in the closets, sink was broken, heater is STILL broken) mainly because of the phone call you gave me this morning telling me i need to move out by December 7th because someone else wants to move in. Great. Thanks. I guess i should be scouring craigslist for a new place to live instead of bitching about you to the Dearlifers.

Praying someone will take me and my cat in for below 400 a month(utilities included to be optional)-
Dear perfect room for under 100 pounds a week, with wireless Internet in Zone 2, that I can move into immediately and also has really awesome flatmates,

Please start existing right.... now.


My roommate is a regular Charlotte York.
Dear Hot, Sexy Boy,

Ay yo, I have a crush on you. Like, a monstrous crush. Which is cool cause its not even liking you. Its a crush. Yes! I haven't had one of those in forever. Anyway, point being, please can we fuck soon? Because it's been almost a month since the first time, and I am pining for your penis in my vag. And, your tongue in my mouth. I really hope you were serious when you said that if you have anything to do with it, it'll happen a 2nd, 3rd, and 4th time. I can work with that. If I have anything to do with it, however, it'll be more like 6 or 7 times. Cause, DAYUM, you make me hottttt. Ha.

Sometimes I think I miss college...then I read shit like this. Then I'm like, "Wait, no."

Dear Ex Boyfriend & Sort of Ex Friend,

You guys suck. Honestly, everything was decent and not so awkward and I was like, "Sweet. They're not gonna hook up. He's actually kinda flirting with me. And, she's real drunk and real dumb, so yeah! This is awesome." And, then I turn to go upstairs and y'all are making out? That sucks. Like, really, really sucks. Because ex friend, you KNEW I still liked him. You did! And, you just can't do that!! There's a nice little secret girl rule that we all know and we all try and follow. Right? Am I right? Of course I am. And, you DIDN'T. Then you went back to his dorm and God only knows what happened there. I mean, fuck. Where's the common motherfucking decency? And ex boyfriend, I've drunk commented you a few times now... so you also KNEW. And, you were flirty beforehand. Reallll flirty. So, if bitch had gone home, who woulda ended up in your dorm? Motherfucking me. So, sweetheart, don't ever do your little weepy "everyone was talking shit" face. Fuck that. They WERE talking shit. Because you are an asshole. I mean, I was sorry that I fucked everything up. But, apparently, you were fucking shit up, too? Nice. Really fucking nice, douchebag.

Also, ex friend, I would really try and refrain from getting intoxicated because you do this thing where you smirk and toss your hair and think you're realllllllllll hot shit, but you're swaying and you look real stupid. Just sayin'.

Hey, Where's That One Boy at I Cheated on Ex-Bf With? Cause His Cock is HUGE, and He Actually Knows What He's Doing,
Dear Boy In D.C.,

Two weeks? Seriously? Two weeks??? Two weeks until i can come visit you????? Okay. I can do that. But very begrudgingly. I might deliver myself to you in a cake. And i'll jump out of it. That seems like it'd be right up your alley.

Missing you!!!!!-
Dear Mom,

Please stop calling me, my brother, and father "addicts" and leaving around books you're reading about "Living With Addiction In Your Family". I'm not an addict, baby.

And you can leave your notes about us being "called to comply with your commands" to yourself. I'm sorry you have not seen any "God-conscientiousness" out of us, but that is because you would pound us into the ground with the Bible if you thought your pastor would approve.

Also, please do not continually refer to me as "ignorant". It's really annoying.

Congrats to you, you successfully ruined everyone in our house's holiday with your nonsense.

Wondering When You Will Ever See The Light,
Dear Guy Who Conceals His Wedding Ring Every Time I Go To Pay My Verizon Bill,

I'm glad you remember me, but you can keep your flirting to yourself. Sure, I'll flirt back with you, but let's be honest with ourselves...I'm sure you have a tubby wife waiting at home under a woven throw for you.

Also, you work in a kiosk. My parents would never accept you.

Dear Teen Wigger In the Mall,

a.) I'm too old for you.
b.) I probably listen to the same music as you, but I'm still way out of your league.
c.) "Sup?" with wandering eyes is not a legitimate pick-up line.
d.) Why are you even here? Last time I checked there isn't a Sean John store in this mall and I'm guessing you probably don't have a frequent buyers card to the Banana Republic.

Dear Music Major Who Either Has No Sense Of Time Or Just Wants To Keep Me Guessing So That By The Time You Call Me I've Already Passed Out And Decided Several Times Over That I Hate You Slash Am Turning Lez,

i gave up on you in favor of LemonBerry Splash and Orange Bacardi last night, and i must say my fruity friend and i fell asleep together rather happily (after, of course, composing and then erasing several scathing text messages to you). but then, of course, you called at THREE THIRTY IN THE MORNING-- at which point i had been passed out/sleeping for 3 solid hours-- and persuaded me to get OFF the warm couch and INTO my car to follow you back to YOUR house, in the desolately freezing temperatures that usually accompany the dead middle of the night.

it was worth it, of course, because you were really cute and amazing and i'm pretty sure i looked adorable curled up in your garnet sheets (my favorite color),

but i should really not be so easily persuaded slash desperate, because honestly all i wanted to do in the whole world when you called was go back to sleep.

.....this probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me.
does it?

Dear Lemonberry-Splash-Flavored Hawaiian Punch and Orange Bacardi,

where have you been all my life? your fruity explosion (all sexual innuendos aside) was almost too much joy for my little mouth to handle. if we hang out as often as i'd like us to, i am certain that you will decimate my liver in a matter of months.

byeeeeee, liver!
Dear 5-page single-spaced paper due on Friday,

come on. seriously.
basic graph search algorithms? boring. :(

Probably the breast, I mean best, story I've ever read.
Dear Tween Boy Who Scooted Up To Me On His Skateboard To Ask If He Could Pet My Dog,

You are too cute for words. I would love it if you pet my dog.

Can I pet you? Gah, you're adorable.

Wanting To Bite You Because You're So Presh,

I saw this DJ live last week. What a badass. He could play with my turntable anytime.
Dear Best Friend,

Face it. I am the best gift giver EVER. I knew my baby shower gift would blow everyone out of the water and that it did. Seriously, who is as thoughtful and creative as me? Who would think to jumpstart your family's collection of children's literature other than me? It was kinda the best idea ever and I love myself. "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs"? Amazing. "Alexander and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"? Awesome. Do me a favor and for the next 10 years when your children request "To Give A Mouse A Cookie", "The Giving Tree", "Corduroy", or "The Hungry Caterpillar" as a bedtime story go ahead and telepathically give me a high five for supplying you with personal favorites from my childhood.

What? Your one year old asked you to read "Mr.Tickles" 6 times today already?!?! Oh, that's because I rule.

Let me tell you where the wild things DON'T bank account. Yet, look at me. So generous.

Caldecott Has Nothing On Me,

P.S. Your little princess looks so precious in her pink baby Uggs that I gave you last Christmas and you know it.
Dear Thanksgiving,

I knew I hated you.

Every year for about 2 seconds I rethink my jaded views on you... and then I realize you still suck.

Thanks for nothing,
Lesson of the day:

I'm a word snob. Maybe unjustifiably so. Here are some words people confuse a lot:

Wary: Cautious, watchful, on-guard
Weary: Tired, lethargic, exhausted
Leery: Distrustful, suspicious (synonymous with wary)

Ravage: Destroy, devastate, pillage
Ravish: To forcefully take, violate, rape
Dear Black Friday,

Fuck you. I refuse to acknowledge you. My local suburban mall is already overrun with upper middle class tweens and trophywives and I will not spend my day weaving in and out of their clusterfucks.

I don't even get that much joy out of shopping anymore. I just want to buy a really amazing hobo international clutch on the Internet, have it delivered to my door, and carry it around (in combination with giant sunglasses, skinny jeans, pointy flats, and shiny hair) while people tell me how fashionable I am. Is that so much to ask?

Dear Hot Guy Giving Me The Eye At Agave Last Night,

When I walked up to talk to you, it was the worst mistake of my life. If I could have predicted that you have a significantly lower IQ than I do, I would have just left it at the eyefucking and continued on my merry way.


P.S. It was painful coming up with an excuse as to why I wouldn't sit down with you and hang out, but I couldn't take that neanderthal southern drawl any longer.

SIDENOTE: Traces of a southern accents are hellza cute. Some may say I have one as well. But, being downright marblemouthed makes you sound like you think the inventor of the wheel was a genius. And the next time I hear someone say something like "I seen somebody over there", I'm going to stop them in their tracks and give them a good grammar lesson.

I love this song. It's beautiful.

Yeah Charlieeeeeeeee
Dear Guy I Used To Work With,

Please just stop with the text messaging already. It is obviously not working since I never reply, and it is frustratingly passive-aggressive. You went to all that trouble to get my number from someone (not me). So if you want to hang out with me, at least be man enough to call (sorry, I still would not answer). Your personality is even less appealing than your short stature and muffin-top hairdo. And you are no match for my quick wit, hot face and bangin' bod.

Also, never ever text me at 7:45 am to say "happy thanksgiving!" I was sleeping, and so was my boyfriend.

I'm thankful you don't know where I live,
VOM city.


To elongate the applicator module one must gyrate the pap (or pappy if plural) and insert, swipe, or smear, the creamy, engorged ointment to make the pod, or pus, palpate with a swab that can wipe the swollen viscosity in a supple manner liken to a suckle swap.

Makes you kinda hot, huh?
Hi all,

I'm back home after spending the last week plus in sub zero temperatures in a place that sees the Northern Lights 240 nights per year. I missed the lights because I was trying to stay warm in that god forsaken place. I've lived in the DC area and visited the Burgh area during winter. But where I've been makes those places feel like a heat wave during the dead of winter.

So it is nice to be back home! It is Thanksgiving, isn't it. I love this blog because we can all vent without fear of identity discovery. We can vent about our families, our boyfriends, our girlfriends, or our celibacy. And for the record, celibacy sucks! Sometimes life isn't very good to us, but we always should remember to be thankful.

Like A, I'm back at Mom and Dads. There is family health reasons and, quite frankly, they shouldn't be allowed to drive. I'm a bit older then most of the posters here. And as I like to joke about the dysfunctional family I belong to, I am very thankful for them. I know that a time will come when my folks will no longer be here ... so even though anything can happen at these family functions, I say bring it on!

I have so much to be thankful for ... family, friends, a job, and my health. Enjoy this day and be thankful! We could all be worse off. While we are enjoying , or trying to enjoy this day, remember those that could use a random act of kindness. It could even be someone in our family ... or even one of us.

Peace to all,
Dear Goblin,

Who the fuck do you think you are? I didn't wanna land on you during Spin the Bottle. But, it happened and you couldn't kiss me? You're not better than me. I am way more attractive than you. And, I am way more of a decent person. So, fuck you. Your audacity is ridiculousssss. I seriously don't understand it. Every other guy there was sexier and better looking than you. And, they kissed me? So, what the fuck. You're a piece of shit. This shouldn't be bothering me. But, it is. So, I just wanted to give you a nice fuck off.

Dear Spin the Bottle,

Thank you. I have never been so thankful for a 7th graders game. I fucking love kissing that one boy!! And you made it happen, STB. So thanks.

Dear Five Vultures That I Just Saw Snacking On Some Roadkill In My Neighborhood,

Carnivorous birds? There is something really funny about that. Really funny and really scary.

No Wonder Hitchcock Wrote A Horror Film About Your Species,
Dear Multiple 8 Year Olds Flying Past Me During The 5K This Morning,

My dignity called. It wants you to slow the fuck down.

Jealous Of Your Youth And Swift Legs,
Thank God High School Musical 3 starts filming in January.
Dear Family-

I am so excited to see you tomorrow! Its been forever. I was beginning to think of you all as mythical beasts. Like, unicorns or Bigfoot. And Mom? Don't feed me too much booze. I'm not accustomed to curbing myself while inebriated. And I have commented that your prize lampshades would made pretty hats...

On second thought lets get really drunk tomorrow to make this 1000 times more fun,

eeeee!!!! apple/pumpkin pie!!!
Dear Suitcase:

I shudder to think what I'll find in you after tonight's spite drinking. I really hope it's more than thongs and cowboy boots, although I DO kinda wish I were going on that kind of vacation tomorrow.

Maybe I'll throw some shit that may or may not fit/match in there RIGHT NOW just in case,
Dear Being Sober Thanksgiving Eve


Dear Having to Wake Up at 5am to Catch a Flight to Texas/Turkey:

You guys are the worst shit ever. I hate y'all and everyone so much for the fact that I am sitting here trying to pack for a frigging week of rando weather when everyone else I know is getting all crunked and thinking how happy they are that they can drink tomorrow and put that hangover off another day and generally not worrying about whether 1.5 hours is enough time to clear security/check a bag/get to the right gate. I might make myself a vodka just to spite y'all. If only Southwest didn't suck so badly, I'd already have my free drink coupons in hand and could put off MY hangover tomorrow, too.

F*ck all y'all, I'm going to Texas,

PS You know what? I'm gonna have like 54382 vodkas ANYWAY. And THAT'LL really show the both of you. PPPBBBTTT!!!!!
Dear Today,

Please stop sucking so hard. I have things to do. Things that I have put off for weeks, even months now, and I need to get them done. But it's not helping that I am interrupted every few minutes with ridiculous requests. I want my desk cleaned off.

You know where to find me when you finally make yourself more appealing,
Dear Today Show:

Yesterday, you said that the average American consumes 5,000 calories and 225 fat grams on Thanksgiving Day. I plan to show you up by eating ingesting WELL over that amount. Pshaw--I'm having 5,000 in alcohol ALONE.

Wearing XXXXXL sweats to dinner tomorrow and for the whole week after,
Dear Mom,

Please don't knock on my door at 7:30 a.m. and ask me to walk the dog. Not when it's freezing outside and I have 3-4 hours of sleeping left. Also, when I tell you i will, but when I wake not refuse my help. She is a dog, mind you. We have yard. If she has to pee, open the front door. I will be more than happy to PLAY with her and take her on an extended adventure into the wilderness when I am done getting the rest my body craves. I'll even pick up her shit up with an inside out bag.

Dear German Roommate,

When you shout things out in your sleep, in German, in the middle of the night it's really scary and disturbing for me. Our room is bad enough already, with it's searing heat and it's undercover mice, without the hourly wake up call of terror.

Really need to get my own place,
Dear Amy Winehouse,

WHAT?! You're 24?! You're MY age? Shit, I thought you were at least like 33! I look WAY younger than you. Then again that may be because I haven't faced years of hardcore wear and tear due to shooting up every drug imaginable.

And I thought my occasional white hair was bad...
Dear Italian Word of the Day Calendar,

Many times you have supplied me with amusing and, frankly, often useless phrases to take back with me to Italy, such as "Stasera, c'e' l'incontro di pugilato" -- or, "The boxing match is tonight," which I will never even say in English because boxing bores me to sweet, sweet tears. However, today your phrase of choice, "Ho troppa ciccia!" or "I have too much flab!" has rendered me near to real tears when coupled with the fact that yesterday I realized I'd gained five pounds in two days. When even you, Italian Word of the Day Calendar, are calling me fat, I feel like going to the nearest vat of chocolate and drowning myself. I know the obesity is kicking in, but come on. This is cruel. I won't even talk about the fact that it's a mere two days prior to Thanksgiving (binge-central), or that I'm generally having a blue day anyway. God.

What's Italian for "bulimia"?

This is phenomenal. Sometimes I REALLY miss college.
Dear Sketchy Guys (All of You),

This is just to inform you that WE.ARE.DUNZO.For real. I know that I have been inexplicably attracted to a wide variety of you for a long time now, but surriously, this has got to stop. Why do complete and utter assholes make me so hot?! What is it about the inability to committ, total absence of life goals, crippling dependency on narcotics, or any other host of issues that make my brain go, "JACKPOT!" ?! The world may never know. I know I'm all sorts of fucked up -- my brain is like Freud's wet dream -- but you guys are really not helping. Sure, it's fun to have wacky stories to tell...but I think I'd rather not have to wake up feeling used, or worse, fearing for my safety after spending a spectacularly sketchy night with one of you. So that's it. Please cease and desist all contact, and if you know how to turn off whatever honing signal has got me seeking you out like an animal on the prowl, you can go ahead and do that. Thanks.

Go Sketch in MARYLAND -- I'm Through With You,
Dear Neighbor (part eleventy billion):

I understand you were drunk when you texted me to get a drink on Friday.

Newsflash: No, I WAS NOT drunk when I texted you after that to lose my phone number and told you I'd do the same with yours. Yes, I DID mean it.

You are a total douchebag bipolar weird-o (I mean, you're super cute and have a nice peen, but whatev) and I don't have time for it. When I saw you yesterday leaving our Metro stop and you tried to talk to me about said text, I'm glad you got the hint. I am 30 f*cking years old and I know what I want and it's NOT someone who is impossible to read. If you feel awkward b/c we got naked, that's really not my problem. It's not like I asked you for a relationship and it's not like we don't get along, so if you wanna be all whatever-y, suck it.

And btw, I'm totally turning the tables and gonna be all nice and friendly now that I told you to piss off. I hope you find this kind of behavior as completely weird and un-understandable as I have. I can't even care that you'll think I'm crazy.

jesus, but I'm over it,

PS Okay, honestly, it kinda sucks we aren't gonna be friends b/c I think we have similar mental problems and we could cut a MAJOR swath thru DC w/ our combined crazy. C'est la vie, no?
Dear Bottle & 1/2 of Red Wine,

Where did you go? You were sitting on the counter and slowly but surely you seemed to sneak into the oblivion that has now manifested itself into a massive headache and a touch of nausea.

I will always love you, but right now - I don't like you.
Dear Dallas,

Please try to be fun when I am there. I know you are full of married-with-childrens, and pretty much everyone I know is preggers or breastfeeding. But it doesn't mean you have to be a complete buzzkill. I still want to like you and plan on continuing my visits regardless. I would just like said visits to be as painless as possible.

So buy a poor girl from New York City a few cheap drinks and remind me of the glory that once was...

See you soon,
Dear Tonsils,

Why do you inevitably swell up like balloons every time I have the audacity to kiss a boy? And why, in the heat of the moment, do I always forget this and have to spend the next week feeling super shitty? It's so uncool that you bring your friends stuffy nose and body aches along for the ride. I have so much shit to do (in case you haven't noticed we are still unemployed). You are really gross and unattractive and I want you gone by my date with cute English boy tonight. If not so help me god I will have you removed so fast you won't even know what happened. Take period with you.

I don't think Jesus loves me,
Dear idiot who backed into my car,

You are stupid. When I called your cell phone only to find that the number was no longer in service, of course I called your insurance agency to file a claim. If you're sketchy enough to give me an out-of-service phone number, that's reason enough to believe your check won't clear. At this point, I'm surprised your insurance info was legit. Also, don't complain (when you call me from another number) that I went to an expensive collision repair place. You hit my car - I'm doing what I want with your effing insurance money. Granted, I'd rather take your check and use it for clothes and socializing instead of getting my car fixed, but who cares at this point... you're a d-bag.

Next time check your blind spot,
Dear Boy From D.C.,

You will be here tomorrow night! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

Painting My Toenails And Sugar Scrubbing Every External Inch Of My Body-
Dear Mom,

Please take your Bible (which you've interpreted as your free pass to judge everyone else on this earth) and shove it up your ass.

Your Daughter
Dear Mom and Dad Currently Borrowing My Car,

Please don't find my cigs in the console. Or my weed.

(Or my handcuffs. Or the crop.)

Dear Self,

WTF is wrong with you!? This totally would be perfect for you guy goes out of his way to hang out. You're drunk enough to not freak out and run as usual and he ends up coming home for a sleep over. He didn't even try to get in your pants, he actually likes you. So why then when he calls later the next day why do you freak out and try to convince yourself you don't like him, when in fact you kind of do and then end up
talking to him for an hour on the phone and regret not inviting him over because you are too chicken shit.

You have issues and you need to get over them asap so that we don't lose another one before you even decide if you actually do like him or not.

Figure it out,

Infant hair is probably my favorite thing in th entire world. This picture is seriously the CUTEST DAMN THING that it makes my uterus ache for a baby inside it. God help me. The instinct to smell this baby's head is as strong a lion prowess's to brutally attack anything which threatens her litter.
G: ok look at this next picture
A: ok
G: it defines the epitome of what i'm attracted to in a guy
G: and i dont know why
A: alright
G: bc i am a glutton for punishment

A: oh good christ
G: pahaha
A: are we serious?
A: he def has the manly man
A: hairy nips going on
G: yes i know
G: i'm pretty sure last night i told him i wanted to sit on his face
A: i just laughed out loud
G: and he had a hard on the whole time we were grinding
A: wheezed laughed
G: it was fucking hot
G: i was grabbing his hands and forcefully putting them all over my body
G: maybe he'll facebook me
A: hot
A: maybe he'll fuck you
A: even better
G: i wish
G: i can just tell he is really good in bed
A: yeah...i can tell by that beer gut and lazy boy look he's a stallion
Dear Boy Who Stood Me Up TWICE (Same guy from Friday),

Really? I don't get it. You seek me out, ask me to hang out, and then when i say "Yeah, sure. I'll be there" you do not answer your phone when i call to see if you are still at that place. Its also fairly unattractive when you FACEBOOK MESSAGE ME the next day to tell me that you are sorry for not answering my phone calls because you were too drunk. TWO TIMES IN A ROW. Wtf? If you aren't into me, its cool. I can take it. I'm just relieved that i don't have your presence in my life to deter me from making out with Boy From D.C. who comes to visit this week.

Pretty Much Over It Before It Began-

ps: you kind of suck at making out.

I want to be Angelina.
Dear The Two Boys I Have Massive Crushes On,

After last night, it is fairly apparent to me that the three of us can never all hang out at the same time ever again. I cannot juggle the both of you. I'm a people pleaser by nature and this does not bode well for me when I come off as borderline slutty because I'm accepting your affections/drinks, making out, and grinding with you both equally throughout the night while whispering in your ears that I have the house to myself and I want your bod just as soon as the other leaves to go to the bathroom or the bar.

One of you I'm only interested in boning casually for the next couple of months because you are smoking hot but yet slightly unstable. The other I could definitely date/like long term. This sort of decision making doesn't go well with copious amounts of wine. And, it's clear that when you are both together I have a definitive decision to make of who I want to take it to third base with later. All of these conflicts in my head, mixed with the fact that it is impossible for me to put my people pleasing nature on hold for five seconds, results in me going home alone. This is unfair and from now on I will be hanging out with you one at a time. I'm thinking we could do a Friday night/Saturday night arrangement. Or...

Dear Boys in America,

This is just to let you know we are done. Last night I:
1) Gave my number to a cute American guy
2) Let a very tall dark and handsome Polish man buy me many, many hard ciders
3) Spent most of the evening talking, dancing and making out with an absolutely adorable English chap
4) Somehow end the night spooning with handsome Scottish boy.
London is fucking amazing. I am never ever EVER coming home!

Now an ex-pat,

Ps. Did I mention the Scots name was Angus? Like for real? God London is like a buffet of international hotties.
Dear Being *This* Drunk,

How did you happen? This was not the plan. These hiccups? Twice tonight for thirty plus minutes? Totally not the plans. Debating Middle East politics with a Lebanese Druid? Um...not the plan. (Even if we were totally impressed with ourselves for pronouncing "Zoroastrianism" correctly! Which does not equal Druisdism. I know. STFU.)

You need a boyfriend.

Much durunken loatheing,

PS Comrfort roommate who is crying throught the walls? Or appass out? Decisions decisions.......
Dear Tree Outside of my Living Room Window,

I really wish that you'd stop impersonating a creepy person looking into my curtainless window. You scare the bejeezus out of me EVERYTIME i walk past said window. You are really pretty to look at during the daytime with your golden and red leaves but I'm totally gonna sick Chairman Meow (my cat) on your twiggy ass.

With No Affection At Nighttime,

also: Heatless Apartment? Go fuck yourself.
Dear True Religion Jeans,

You make my life worth living. And, my ass will look especially good in you considering your purchase has rendered me unable to buy any food for the next three weeks. Good logic? I thought so.

Attractive yet Poor,
Dear Grey's Anatomy,

I enjoy your drama, music, and quotable monologues, but can we talk about one thing? When I tune in to a show about a hospital, I don't care about the medical stuff, I'm in it for the sex and angst. Please stop turning my stomach by showing graphic scenes about brain surgery, amputations, and kids who get their eyes impaled by pencils. Let's go back to the superficial stuff...I'm eating here.

Dear Assorted Things,

Legs.. why are you in so much pain? These muscle pains are out of control. And, you know what's just great? I have 20 Vicodin.. THAT DOESN'T AFFECT ME. What kind of freak of nature isn't affected by Vicodin? Oh yeah, ME. Stupid. I need some morphine!

And dear ex boyfriend that I saw yesterday.. Um, how many girls can you possibly hang out with at a time? There was like 7. AND BY THE WAY, you have bad taste in females, minus me, cause I rule, but come on. You're decently attractive. Find a winner, or date me again, damnit. And also, I'm really fucking upset that I drunk-myspace commented you. Why do you affect me more when I'm drunk? Like, I don't even think about Stupid Boy I'm in Love With anymore. It's always YOU. Bah. Oh and, bee tee dubble yew, again, that really enthusiastic, sarcastic "Hey guys!" yesterday was obnoxious. Super, super obnoxious. It makes me cringe everytime I hear it in my head. Douchebag.

And dear boy I met yesterday, I would like to hang out with you again. You're a babe. We should spoon. Or something... Hahaha.

I'm gonna nap now,
Dear Self,

So apparently it's not really considered okay to show up to your 9am dress rehearsal (for your first concert with a semi-professional chorale in a major city) late-ish, in sweats, and still reeking of alcohol and the cologne of some rando from the night before...? That may have flown in college, but this is the real world, lady. Sack up. GROW up. Start taking some responsibility for your choices, and stop sabotaging every good thing that comes your way. If you want to sing, maybe start being on time to rehearsal. Being well-rested and sober couldn't hurt either.

Also Probably Stop Smoking So Much,
This is amazing. See, facebook is good for something other than stalking people. Click on the video.
Dear Getting So Wasted On The Walk Back To The Parking Lot I Run Into Some Guys I Don't Know And Accept Their Offer To Blaze With Them In A Dark Alleyway,

Probably not the best of ideas, but I forgot how jovial passing the peace pipe with complete strangers can be. Free drugs. Awesome.

Dear migraine,

Leave, please. I have had you since yesterday. And, it's more intense today. I mean I CANNOT be hungover from 3 beers and 2 forties that I SHARED anyways. Seriouslyyyy. So, let's get real here. Just peace the fuck out. You're unnecessary. You're making me angry. And, I have plans tonight that include heavy drinking.. so if I feel like complete shit tonight and am unable to experience FUN, then you're really gonna get it. I have taken Excedrin, Vicodin, and all sorts of headache relievers. AND I AM NOT RELIEVED. I'm pretty we're gonna fight soon.

Dear Vicodin,

Why? Why do you not affect me at all? I mean, I took oxycodone and I fell in love. I took morphine and I was in Heaven. I take you, like 4 of you, and I feel nothing. Nothing! And, I'm pretty sure I puked 4 times in the morning because of you. I took 1 and a half during the afternoon, 1 around 4, snorted one around 6 and then 2 at around 2 am.. And, I didn't feel numb at all. Why do people like you so much? Honestly? I don't get it. Cause I don't. You'd think with a generic name of hydrocodone, you'd be lovely and similar to my body numbing baby oxycodone.. but NOPE. You suck. I think I am going to sell all these pills. Cause, you just suck.

Missing morphine,

P.S. When did I become a pill popper?
damn you, guys on the metro who hide your wedding rings--i feel like a perv when i've been checking you out the whole ride and then you shift your hand ever so slightly and i see that shimmer of marital promise. ugh
Dear Universe,

Do you think you could please make Condescending, Arrogant Co-Worker less attractive? Not just to me, but to every one else? Because you know, if I can't have him, I don't think anyone else should either. And while you are at it, could you please see that he gains weight, like 15-20 pounds, and his girlfriend (no longer referred to as Dingbat seeing as how she is just plain Trashy) breaks up with him? Oh, another thing, could you please make me exponentially sexier? That would be just fantastic, and I would be eternally grateful.

Hoping the tables will turn,
Dear Boy Who Stood Me Up Tonight-

Are you sure you like me? I mean, you freakin' stood me up. You didn't call OR answer my facebook message. Its 1 am. Should i be angry or worried? Or careless?

Go Fug Yourself Anyways,
Dear cj,

Thanks for having my back. That comment kinda hurt my feelings.


Dear Anonymous,

For your information, I'm not an ingrate, spoiled womanchild mooching off my parent's wealth. Nor a 24 year old lackadaisical slob.

a) I said "ALMOST 24". That means I'm 23.

b)I TEMPORARILY moved home for several reasons (none of which seem good enough now). They are as follows:
-I am currently enrolled in graduate school, therefore accruing ungodly amounts of student loans. No rent is a pretty appealing option when I think about the people going to be banging down my door the day I graduate looking for reimbursement. And for the next 20 years of my life.
-My old roommate got married( I was actually in her wedding party-i'm a likeable person) and I could not find another roommate who wasn't someone off of craigslist who i thought may bludgeon me in my sleep.
-I didn't want to live alone. I use human contact with others as a means to avoid work. I'm needy when it comes to socialization.
-My mother was extremely lonely (my dad works in another state during the week and my little brother just went to college) and was practically begging me to move home.

And I intend to move out very soon.

Thank You,
Hey Anonymous Who Replied To A's Post-

You suck. Sometimes shit happens and you gotta live at home. Are you going tell me every step you have ever made in your life has been the right one and you found a job IMMEDIATELY after graduating college? Are you a successful 24 year old? For your information, i am 24 and i don't know ANY 24 year olds who are living lavishly. And if you happen to be the antithesis of the individual i have described, congrats. You are a minority of our age level.

A- i have no idea why you live at home. I'm sorry you do. But i support your decision 100 percent and if you ever move to Pittsburgh, lets find a place together or something. You seem pretty cool.

Overly Emotional On A Friday-
Dear A,

Ummmm hi you just described my mom EXACTLY. Maybe we should form a support group. Or you can move into my apt and we can be estranged daughters together? I've got a sick futon from IKEA....

Think About It,
Dear Life,

You know what's unfortunate? When you're having drinks with your crush and his friends and all of the sudden you get pale as a ghost, break out into cold sweats, start blacking out, your ears start ringing so bad you can't hear anyone, you think you are going to die for some unknown reason (You're not even drunk!) and you have to RUN to the bathroom so you don't pass out at the table in the middle of a bar. Yeah, that is unfortunate. And happened yesterday. Awesome. I still don't know why other than the fact that God likes to make insane things happen in my life.

Dear 5k More A Year,

You are tempting, indeed. But I just don't know if I'm ready to embark on a career path. I'm only twenty two for god's sake and how the fuck am I supposed to know what I want to do with my life?! I was so happy in my little bullshit job where I could read Dear Life all day and have everyone love me for just for being pretty and perky and vaguely familiar with the phrase 'scan to PDF'. Then you come along and tempt me into a world of leasing assumptions and stacking/blocking plans and WTF does that even mean?!?! I don't want to be a part of that world. But here's the thing - I NEED you, 5k. I enjoy things like not starving to death, and not having to choose between alcohol and shoes (can we say Sophie's Choice?), and not having to search under my bed and in all my purses to find enough quarters to buy my Camel Lights, because that's just really really pathetic. So, 5k More A Year, I wish you would stop taunting me. I didn't even bring a resume with me to my interview! Why would they offer me you on a silver platter with opportunities for bonuses and more promotions?! IT MAKES NO SENSE. Now what am I supposed to do?

I'd Flip A Quarter, But I Spent Them All On Cigs,

Dear Natalie Portman,

You managed to prove to the world that you are fugly, a horrible
dancer, and completely beyond hope...all in one pic...congrats

Soulja Boy is now tainted forever,
Dear Self,

Perhaps you should take this as a hint that wow, you are not the fiancee and the fiancee WILL WIN. This is not a contest but instead an overwhelming but expected victory on her part. She will win. She will dominate. And that is that. Please read this message, understand it, and take it to heart. Even though this is actually literally the last thing in the world you want to read.

Yep, laying it out,
Your higher self
No leads on Kyle today.

Please pray for his family! They need all the prayers and happy thoughts they can get. His mother is scheduled to have surgery tomorrow.

Dear "Brad Dupont",

Why would you EVER think it is okay to contact me again after you made your friend call me randomly at 3am and leave me a ranting voicemail about how I am a bitch?! Hello - I don't even KNOW you. In my world, it is perfectly acceptable for a drunk girl to give out her number with no intention of ever seeing that person again, and guys should understand that if two people are both wasted to the point of not standing up on their own and talking at a bar for approximately 2 seconds, it makes sense if when they sober up they no longer think said conversation was necessarily the best idea and choose to pretend it never happened. But nooooo...instead, you passive aggressively enlist someone I've never even met to call me up and bitch me out via voicemail, and then you text me two weeks later to see if I'm going out tonight?

1) You are a big pussy, and
2) You are a big DB, so

YES I will be going out tonight, and NO it will not be with you.

Dear Microsoft Excel,

Not gonna lie -- you pretty much terrify me. Your cells filled with large numbers and crazy symbols scare the bejeezus out of my Music-major Brain. To me, the phrase "roll-up" means FRUIT roll-up, not the sum of the consecutive blah blah whatever. I just spent the past 20 minutes staring at you like a deer in the headlights as I tried to figure out ONE simple procedure, and if anyone else asks me to do anything relating to Capital Expenditures today I will probably cry.

=sum(C7+C8... = &*s#%*^@!!!!!,
Dear Hover Crafts,

I really appreciate it when I go to use the bathroom after you and the toilet looks like a St. Bernard used it as its watering hole. And I know that isn't water. How difficult is it really to get a huge wad of toilet paper and clean up your own mess, those cleaning ladies don't get paid enough to clean up your piss. Do you think that the toilet magically threw up all over the seat after you flushed? No, you peed all over the seat, like a frat boy after a long night of drinking. Nice aim shooter. So do us all a favor and take the extra 2 seconds to put down a toilet seat cover or a couple sheets of paper, we're supposed to be the cleaner gender. And if you just dont have enough time, deal with it, take a seat.

Riding Dirty
Dear PsyD Application's Request For A Personal Statement,

You would think that you would be incredibly easy to write, considering
all you have to do is enlighten the world and tell them how amazingly
perfect I am. In the past I have totally taken advantage of the fact
that this has been common knowledge. Just as the sky is blue and the
grass is green, I'm am wonderfully gorgeous, intelligent and just one
bad ass bitch. Who would have thought articulating a gift from God
would be hard to do . . . hmmm, maybe I should just use this blog entry
as my intro. GENIUS!!!

Thanks for the inspiration!
Dear Foreign Grad Student who does not take a hint,

I don't want you, or your MBA, or anymore of your "High-Fives!" If we ever get drunk and make out it will be simply because I had too much jager and you are a better alternative than any of my ex-boyfriends which I will eventually end up with anyways. I also can't think of you sexually when I'm sober because I believe in the myth about what the size of guys' shoes mean and I dated a guy who was also 6'6" with small feet and he had a small peen. Nuf' said.

But, if I ever see you while I am working at the bar I still expect a big tip.

Dearest and Most Precious and Favorite Baby (Whole) Brother:

Thanks to you, I was brave enough to break out the counter-offer and ask for numerous perks and dollars and THEY ARE ACTUALLY CONSIDERING IT!!! I know I have the law degree and all, but let's face it--I'm kinda retarded and you are all jinx-i-fied and super cool (no, I don't know what jinx-i-fied means, either, but let's say it means "freakin rad" and/or "way kick ass" from here on out) and you totally have your shit together while I flit about DC like some oversized toddler w/ a massive credit limit. (Also, let's be real, you are my favorite brother, half OR whole. Anyone who grew up w/ Don + Sandy and came out alive is tops in my book.)

I am so glad we are related, but I'd like you even if we weren't,
your big sis
Dear Fellow Women,

Wouldn't life be so much better if men were not an issue? Like, they didn't even exist? Or, how about selective amnesia? Where we could choose what we wouldn't want to remember? Even better! We could be robots, with no feelings at all! None to be stomped on...

So tired of being hurt,
Dear Army of Miniature Rocky Balboas Using My Ovaries As Punching Bags,

Please stop.

Don't Make Me Call Mr. T On You,

Dear Rachel Bilson,

That dress is perfection.

Dear Many Things....

First of have to find Kyle. This whole, he's missing and it's creepy thing is freaking me out. Plus, his mother? She has cancer and was supposed to have an operation this week! This is heartbreaking. Please, find Kyle.

Well, once I start talking about that, there's nothing that seems quite as important.

Seriously....homegirl is ready for your (safe...please be a safe) return,
Make a donation. Do it. Make me happy. :)
Dear Guy I Used To Work With,

Can't lie, you're starting to creep me out a little bit. At first I thought you were nice, though not my type and obviously a bit delusional/very persistent. But lately you've seemed to be a little more... unhinged? Sorry I have not responded to any of your cryptic one-word text messages for the past month, but I didn't want to give you false hope and I thought you might take the hint. Instead, I just got a text message from you that reads "I see how you are."

Um, busy and uninterested?

Hoping I don't end up in a duffel bag somewhere,
Dear Boyfriend's Ex-Girlfriend From 10 Years Ago (who is currently
married with 2 kids),

I don't understand you. A few weeks ago you invited my boyfriend to a party you were having, and told him to bring me, presumably to check me out. The moment we arrived you ran up to me and gave me a huge hug and told me "how great it is" to meet me, just before launching into a myriad of "when he and I were dating" stories, including one about what he did for you on Valentine's Day when you were 15. The entire night you gushed about how much you loved me and how happy you were that he has found the perfect woman for him, while throwing in stories about the first time you two decided to have sex and how he is your back-up plan in case your marriage fails. Since this party, you have repeatedly called my boyfriend, telling him you are still in love with him, and asking if he would "be there" if you left your (incredibly sweet) husband and (adorable) two kids. You even asked him to come visit you on a weekend your husband was out of town, bribing him with tickets to see his favorite NBA team. In the next phone conversation you not only ask him to visit, but ask him to bring ME along. You even put up a photo of me on your Myspace page with a caption that says
that I am "a doll."

I don't get it. Are you trying to steal my boyfriend or be my best friend? How can you do this to your husband, who knows you are still in love with your high school ex, and still welcomed him into his home? And how can you not get the hint when my boyfriend makes constant excuses as to why he doesn't have time to visit you, even though he only has a part time job? It's a little crazy that you are willing to throw your life and your family away for a man who is in love with someone else, who has flat out told you that he doesn't want to be with you. You don't even know him anymore. You dated for a few months your freshman year of high school and have barely spoken since. It is about time you put away the high school yearbook and figure out what is so wrong with your marriage and work on fixing it.

I'm only nice to you because I feel bad for you,
Tired Of The Crazies.
Dear person that wasn't really ever my boyfriend:

I was trying my best to ignore you, and succeeding, and then you show up in a dream. And we washed cars together. I do not like this AT ALL!

My boyfriend was RIGHT THERE! Sleeping next to me! I opened my eyes, expecting to find you, and I found HIM! I'm petrified that I said your name while I was sleeping last night and he's going to know I was having a wet (heh) dream about you!

This is not good. You need to go away. Or come back, for reals. or SOMETHING.


Dear Designer handbag,

Well, aren't you just the cutest thing? Chic, elegant, understated and sooooo practical. You will go with everything from jeans to my tweed suit (which I now must get off my ass and get tailored - look what you've done to me and my closet!) and you smell like adventure. I know it was probably weird when my boob touched you during that shithot photo shoot I did to thank Likely Future Husband Whom I Knew In High School (Yay, Facebook!) for sending you to me, but the pics were bangin and LFHWIKIHS (YFB!) - possibly one of the most eligible bachelors in London (sorry, Shameless) - is officially on record as being hooked. From thousands of miles away and after a twenty year absence... heh, I still got it.

Did you like sleeping at the foot of the bed with me last night? I was worried you might be nervous in your new home. You're like a golden retriever I can put stuff in! And by the way, the flannel bag you came in made the best pillowcase evs.

And as if you needed to get any better, my fucking LAPTOP fits inside you...

I am so totally your bitch now (and his),

Dear Crazy Boss,

Just so you know, I did not enjoy the staff meeting where you blamed the constant stench of alcohol coming from your office for the past 4 months, not to mention your ridiculous behavior, on your blood pressure medication. You're not fooling me - I'm 24, I know what vodka smells like. Also, please don't come back to work after long, unexplained absences and get mad because I don't have my projects done. They're not done because you weren't there to guide me. Oh, and my pseudo-boss, the one you hired to be your "right hand man"...he's a d-bag. No one knows what he does all day. Plus he smells, quite literally, like feet. Yesterday, when you were gone, he left the office, then changed clothes and came back wearing pleated khaki shorts and mandals. In no way is that ever appropriate. Anyway, please start making better decisions ASAP.

Dear Festive Evening of Tree Decorating and Menorah Un-boxing and Eggnogging and Hot Buttered Rumming, aka Tonight:

I can't even wait for you to hurry up and get here. We are SO gonna decorate the hell outta that tree and drink the shit outta some rum. We are gonna get our serious cheese, fruit, cold cut, Chipotle, venison grub on and it will be awesome. Jeff the Jew and I are going to open our new, kiddie thermoses and put our warm or cold drinks in them and THE DRINKS WILL STAY WARM OR COLD. We will get drunk and sing Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel and Have a Holly Jolly Christmas and possibly accidentally eat the popcorn tinsel.

You are truly the embodiment of the holidays: food, drink, friends, and festivities. Oh, and thermoses, of course. Doy.

Get your Chrismakwanzikuh on,
Dear Black Knee-Length Dress and Killer Tan Knee-High Boots:

First, you guys are the most attractive couple EVER. Jesus, you make Posh and Becks look frumpy and overfed. However, and MORE IMPORTANTLY, you make it impossible for anyone to tell I haven't shaved my legs since...well, since the last time I thought I might get laid (let's just pretend that was kinda recently, shall we?).

Totally head over my high heels in love,
Dear Boy In D.C.,

Sorry about crunk-dialing you last night. I realize that it was a Tuesday night and normal people go to bed before 2 am during the week. Please don't hate me and lets pinky-swear to make out when you come home for Thanksgiving next week.

You are cute,
Dear Laundry,

There's about three weeks'-worth of you in my room, staring me down every time I want to sit on my bed and read Glamour. I think today is the day. I'm pretty much out of clothes, although a whole 21 days without a repeat outfit is an impressive showing on the part of my wardrobe. I have about ten dollars in quarters, some pink floral-smelling detergent, and the willpower to haul you downstairs to the washing machines.

I just wish I could find something else to wear to laundry day other than black spandex Under Armor and a "John Kerry 2004" t-shirt.

Maybe this will shame me into laundering more often. But probably not.

Let's do this bitch.
Dear British Guy,

You are still really hot. And really helpful and nice. And really too old for me. And really MARRIED.

So stop emailing me telling me we should meet up for drinks when you come to London on business. I may be shameless but I am not THAT shameless.

However if you have a younger, singler brother we can talk,
Dear Life,

You know. Even though I lost a boy recently that I felt myself falling for. And the boy I am madly in love with still doesn't acknowledge my presence unless he's slightly inebriated. And I don't have a job (Even though, that's completely my fault cause I'm stagulating) and my car insurance is cancelled cause I'm too broke to pay it. And I recently had my phone stolen but I don't have the money to get a new one, but even if I did.. my bill is $290 anyways that I also cannot pay so if I did get a phone it'd be turned off within a few days. And I'm smoking pot even though, legally I can't. And, I'm probably gonna ruin my chance of getting my favorite job back if I don't send in my application by tomorrow. And, I'm getting FAT. If I wasn't going through my "womanly time of the month", I would swear I'm gonna pop out twins one of these days.. So, in spite of alllllllllllllllllllll that.. Life, you're really not that bad. I mean, I got brand new tires for free and a free oil change, and free gas. So, thanks for those little unexpected goodies. And, I've got my sight and my hearing and all my limbs and I'm getting over this cold. And, honestly.. I can just tell you're going to work out for the best. I got a feeling. And, yeah.. shit sucks right now. And, that's no good.. but it'll be fine. I can just TELL. So, thanks. I can see the light at the end of this tunnel. I can see the pretty silver lining on my cloud. I'm gonna be fine. And that is nice and comforting. There are a lot of people that have it way worse than me. And I am incredibly thankful that I am gifted enough to have the things I do have. So, life, even though, I've hit a slight rough spot, I'm going to get up now. And I'm going to keep trucking. I've got you to live. And you're pretty nice to me. Do you think we could work on the boy situation, though? I don't want a boyfriend. I would just like a nice boy who's cute and has a large penis and can make me scream. That's all. Oh, and maybe he could be a tattoo artist cause I've got expensive tattoo plans. Yeah? Maybe?

Going to bed now,
Dear New Job-

I love you. Not only do you allow me to wear short jean skirts and cute leggings and fishnet stockings to you, you also provide me with a constant source of caffeine. NOT only that, but you allow me a 50 percent discount on all alcoholic beverages at the two bars you are associated with. I bought Sam (the most beautiful person ever) and myself a drink after you (work) and the total came to 3.75!! I, of course, tipped the bartendress. I can't wait to introduce your discount to ML and other friends.

Crunked on a Tuesday-

PS: A,
Totally. Everyone should have that shirt.
Dear Ex Boyfriends Girlfriend,

Even though it'd be easy to claim total innocence for hooking up with your boyfriend once since you got together, I still feel really terrible. Yeah I was drunk and yes, I was in a completely comprimising position before I even realized what was happening. But I still feel terrible. I have yet to meet a person who likes you and I know there are a bajillion reasons for me to feel like what I did is completely justified, because the reality is that you suck very badly. But still, I apologize. The truth is he is a lying cheating bastard who did it to me and is now doing it to you. And while I really don't like you and I know beyond a doubt (you make it very clear) you hate my very being, you deserve better. Nobody deserves to feel the way I KNOW he makes you feel.

I've been sucks,
Dear November,

I have dubbed you "No"vember for a reason, a reason that has become abundantly clear after I watched possibly the most wonderful guy I have met (who is my age and not engaged) stumble home with his horrible girlfriend. Like honestly, I don't mean she's horrible because she's his girlfriend; independent of that fact, she is HEINOUS. Unspeakably, violently horrible. And not cute. What. are. you. doing. You are so cute that all of my friends have to actively restrain themselves when you are around. "No"vember is an amazing idea, in concept, but it has never been more convincing than when I watch you stagger home with that fuggo. It's "No"vember from here on out to everyone in college.

Yeah, that's right,
Dear Lifers,

Please go to facebook and join the "HELP FIND KYLE FLEISCHMANN-MISSING" group. Miraculously, his story was featured on Larry King Live tonight! CNN is posting the story as are many, many local tv and radio news stations. The more support, the more coverage and the more likely someone is to come forward with information. If you know anyone in Charlotte please invite them to join as well. I know his family is really grieving right now and so are many of my friends from our graduating class.

You may also make a donation at The money will go to private investigators and advertisements.

Thank you for your help!

Dear Beer,

I expect great things from you tonight.

Seriously just love,
Dear Current Job,

I guess I feel bad, but not nearly as bad as I should, about the fact that I pretty much blow you off at least once weekly. The only reason I keep going is because it pays just enough money to pay my ridiculous credit card bills. It doesn't REALLY matter, because it's work study, but I realize that this is a good preparation for the real world and what mundane office work will really be. Unfortunately, at this rate, my future doesn't look so bright. My motivation factor is in the negatives and if I don't HAVE to come in and make up the hours (if I'll make enough money to pay the bills that month), I'm not going to. Sad, really. I should be more motivated. And you know, on that note...

Dear Motivation,

WTF, dude. Seriously. You just up and left without any just cause or consideration for this midterm tomorrow afternoon. And the paper due Friday. And the program due Friday (though I realize that a midterm and a program for the same class in the same week is a big middle finger to the students, but dude that isn't my fault). I'm not sure what made you run. Maybe it's been the lack of fun lately. I went out Saturday night, though. And the sex has definitely stepped up a few notches since last month when I, for no good reason, became completely numb to the idea. (I had a talk with sex drive, don't worry.)

So come on... I promise to have more fun, if you promise to come back and cater to my ridiculous schedule for the next month. I swear it's over for a couple weeks after that. I swear.


p.s. Still a little bit worried about my ability to hold down a job in the future. Maybe we can work on that, too?
Dear life,

It really need to / It would be really cool if I:

STOPPED burning myself EVERY TIME I cooked something.


every time.

Every Time,

p.s. I need a new pizza cutter. And a new microwave that isn't from 1954, and has a defrost option, damn it.

...and a funnel. completely unrelated.
Dear Boy Who Likes Me Too Much and Boy Who Likes Me Not Enough:

Either trade places or cease to exist anywhere, including in my phone.

Dear College Frat Kid (Namely Those Who Attend The Major University On 21st Avenue In Downtown Nashville),

Where do I begin? Is it true that you were all made in a factory somewhere, given to families with lots of money, and trained your entire life to wear polos with your cool guy collars popped? Not to mention that delicious hair cut you've had since you were probably five years old. Man, if I had one wish in life, I would be reincarnated into the coolest frat kid ever. I could drink my education away and still get a nice paying job because my name is Samuel P. Winshire. I could tell everybody how important I am and make those cool comments like, "Don't you know who my dad is?" And your skills with the ladies, could you be anymore smooth? A bud light and a jager bomb is the beginning to all wonderful fairy tale weddings that every girl dreams about. I love how you look for the drunkest girl in the bar so you can take here home to shoot off that little red rocket and then have all of your brothers affirm you as a man because you really showed that girl who's boss.

Well, Mr. Frat Kid, I need some help on my lack of coolness. Maybe someday you could teach me how to get some liquid confidence (usually in the form of a vodka red bull, a.k.a. VRB), and push my friends in the middle of the bar like it was a locker room to make myself look like a tough guy. And then we could get in a fight together. It would be all the frat brothers against two very weak looking nerds that happen to have more game with that bar slut you were just trying to make out with. And somehow you still feel threatened by their pussy cat reluctance to fight. Of course you couldn't just start punching because that would totally take away from the hour long scream fest to prove who is more hard.

One more thing, how did you learn to be such an asshole to bartenders? Would that really up my street cred if I complained about not having enough whiskey in my shot of Jack Daniels? Furthermore, does it really get you quicker service because you're one of those guys that doesn't take shit from people? I wish I knew what it was like to go out with my friends and get evil looks of pure, demonic hatred from the bar staff. I wanna make all the bars hate me. When that's done, I'll find the one that hates me the most and make it my weekend party bar. Sounds like a damn good plan to me.

In closing, I am so thankful that you, College Frat Kid, are the future of America. Doctors, lawyers, politicians, business executives, and all other important careers this fine country has to offer will be in the hands of model stewards. Thank you for your contribution to the betterment of mankind. You certainly give me hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Desperately wanting to be accepted for the shitty person that I am,
College Freshman
Dear CF:

I just read your Monday post and totally wanted to offer you a "beer hug." Then, I realized that a) this is Sober November for me, so I couldn't offer that and b) I read "beer hug" instead of "bear hug," which makes me think being sober this month isn't the worst thing that could happen to me.

What do sober people do on days?

Dear Life,

This would be funnier if his screams weren't so painful sounding. But still. I love it.

Don't tase me, bro-


I want this shirt really bad. I may ask for it for Xmas.

Dear Moronic Ex-Boyfriend,

I meant every word I said last week about never asking me to get back with you again, especially the part where you said you were thinking about how to avoid that, and I said "Well, don't kiss me, for one thing, because apparently I'm just that good." I know I said I was kidding, but I totally wasn't. You have some nerve acting like I want you back when you were the one who went from wanting to be "just friends" on a Friday to "Let's date" on a Sunday back in February after I let you kiss me. Our makeout session was just nostalgic to me, but apparently it meant much more to you, since you kept after me until I agreed to get with you, again -- a disastrous four-month relationship that ended, just like I suspected it would, with me getting my heart crushed. Again. Damn you for tricking me into believing you that you actually liked me, when the truth was that I'm just a really effing good kisser.
Have fun in counseling, sucker, because the only good thing this rerun of a relationship did was land your ass squarely where it has always belonged: on a psychiatrist's couch.

Liked you in spite of your kissing skills, not because of them,
Dear Boy Whom I Just Adore All The Timeeee,

Why do I like you? Still? And, why do you get kinda flirty sometimes? Like, I know our ship has sailed multiple times, and you're doing something different right now, but. How come sometimes you don't act like a decent human at allllllll and then other times we're cute and flirty again!? Example: Saturday, you came over to this gathering and we smoked a lot of pot. I packed it, you packed it, and so on and so forth. We had conversation. We laughed. We walked down memory lane a bit. It was nice. You even rested your hand on my leg! What the hell? And then last night, not too much talking but then when I was playing beer pong you're all talkative? And, close to me and shit. What the fuck, man. Its stupid cause I really do think we work out when you decide to be into me.

Blah blah blah,
Stupid Girl
Dear Midol,

Do you think you could hurry the fuck up and kick in? So, I can maybe get out of the fetal position and do something productive? And, you better fucking work for this "Menstrual Headache", too. Cause I never get those, but now I have one. And you claim you work for them so get working!!!! I took you like an hour ago! Come onnnn. I hurt I hurt I hurt. And I am hungry and I can't walk from these cramps so food is out of the question until you KICK IN. Sooooo, Midol, my love, can you do your duties right now? Thanks a ton.

Aunt Flow is kicking my ass,
Dear Grapes,

You are vanquished! MUAHAHAHAHHAAA. But I'm never, ever eating you again.

Wine Is Still OK Though,

P.S. - Thanks for the moral support, cj. Couldn't have done it without you!
Dear Life Decisions,

I hate you so much. I am indecisive and wimpy, and having to make you stresses me out to the max. Even normal everyday choices are difficult for me. Picking out necklaces takes, like ten minutes on average... and shoes? Let's not even go there. So when faced with important decisions, I buckle under the pressure like a beer can against a frat boy's forehead. The thing is, I have spent the majority of my life trying to make OTHER people happy - so much so, that I don't even know how to recognize what I want anymore, and being forced to choose my own path is more than I can handle. Can't I just go back to kindergarten where my biggest dilemma was whether to draw a princess or a mermaid and mommy made all the important choices for me?

Flipping a Coin...For Everything,
Dear Super Religious Catholic Mom,

THANK YOU for understanding why I want to go on birth control, and for being supportive and not judging me or jumping to conclusions about my sex life. You have been so amazing these past few years and I'm so sorry I hated you growing up. You make me want to have a daughter of my own when I am older so that I can be half as amazing a mother to her as you have been to me. Also, thank you Bloody Mary I had at noon for finally giving me the courage to bring up the dreaded topic with my mother. I'm really looking forward to not wanting to hide in my room every time I start my period.

Your forever grateful daughter
Dear Designer Handbag Arriving By Courier Tomorrow,

Oh em gee! I am so excited to meet you!

When Likely Future Husband Whom I Knew In HS (Yay Facebook!) told me he was sending you to me as a present, I scanned the website of the luxury fashion house where he works and wondered breathlessly which one you'd be. So many pretties, I don't mind telling you, I drooled a bit. I joked to LFHWIKIHS (YFB!) that he should send a plane ticket with you so my breasts and I could thank him in person... and that's when he broke the thrilling news that not only were you not on the website because you are a one-of-a-kind sample that was never put into production, but he admitted you are also worth the price of a plane ticket! Of course, I pooh poohed (I'm a pooh pooher, it's true) and figured he meant some gaylordish budget stand-by ticket with six stopovers... but when he let slip that you are worth 700 pounds (which my handy desktop currency converter calculates at a staggering $1,373 Canadian), pooh poohing changed to brick-shitting in a heartbeat. There is only one of you in the world, you are all mine, and even Angelina Jolie can't have you - and we all know there are not many things in a woman's life she can say THAT about with confidence.

I don't know if I'll sleep tonight, but I want to be up early to shower and put on makeup so I can look nice for you when you arrive! I just know we're going to be best friends!

I promise not to store my weed in you,
xo RG