Dear Not-So-New Crush,
Thanks for the e-mail. Gah, there is something about you that is so fatherlike and comforting. Hold me.
Love,
A
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.
Pblpth!
-T
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.
Pblpth!
-T
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
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
lol
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,
b
PS Oh..right...is 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 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,
b
PS Oh..right...is 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,
b
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,
b
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,
Shameless
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,
Shameless
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.
Love,
Buddha
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!
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.
Love,
Buddha
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 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,
b
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.
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,
b
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,
Blondie
*pun intended
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,
Blondie
*pun intended
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?
J
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?
J
dear ovaries,
DEAR GOD YOU ARE LOATHESOME.
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,
-c
ps- b, i'm totally living vicariously through you right now... can we say, jealous? argh.
DEAR GOD YOU ARE LOATHESOME.
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,
-c
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...
LOVING IT,
A
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...
LOVING IT,
A
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,
b
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,
b
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