(image from her myspace page)

Dear ex-roommate,

I pretty much hate your guts. When we moved here to LA, you seemed normal enough. Fat, but normal. Then, as time progressed, I realized you liked going to church more than paying rent. This was a problem. But we let a couple months slide because you were let go from your secretary job at the fire station. I know what it’s like to have hard times financially (THANK YOU WRITER’S GUILD!). Other roommate and I would ask you about rent money and you would say “Oh I’m just waiting on check from work!” Riiiiiiiiiight. You never had time to write a rent check, but somehow you had PLENTY of time to go to Disneyland. Multiple times. You, being the not-smart person that you are had the balls to post pictures from your fun little day trips with your skinny-guy nerd boyfriend on Facebook and MySpace. Did you think we would not notice? Did you think we were idiots? Well we did, and we’re not. We found you out for what you really are: a fat, disgusting, lying, manipulating bible-banger with no sense of hygiene or respect for other people. And I’m pretty sure you stole my Kenneth Cole watch. I can’t wait to tell all your friends about the time I walked into your room to find a pair of shit-ridden panties lying on the floor. Do you not wipe your ass? DISGUSTING. Listen bitch, if you can’t pay the rent you’re paying now (of which you owe 5 months worth) you are NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT IN LOS ANGELES. Just go back to Oklahoma. You’re a piece of shit and I hate you.

Rant over
I feel better
Tyler