Dear Wangster

Yo, Dis is not Da Hood. You get me? See, this is an middle class fucking subdivision, in a former rural area, outside an urban area by about 20 fucking miles. So before I come over there and shove your little piece of shit car that goes boom, with it's blown out wall mart speakers straight up your ass with no lube, I highly suggest you turn that shit down while I am trying to sleep yo.

Sincerely,

The Bitch four houses down who can hear you over her husbands stoopid movie and will go all ghetto on your ass.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Dear Piece of Shit,
You have GOT to be kidding me. The holidays are hard for you now, huh? Because he's gone, you just can't get into the Christmas spirit? Fuck. You. It had been YEARS since you'd even seen him when he died ass hole. You were the last person he wanted anything to do with. He fucking hated you. Your Christmas isn't ruined because he's dead. Your life hasn't changed at all. You're still the same miserable piece of shit you've always been, thinking of no one but yourself. You contribute nothing of worth to this planet, and even less to this family. In fact, you've NEVER been a part of this family. We exist in spite of you, fucker, not because of you. The next time you feel like sharing your self-pity ridden bull shit, keep it to yourself, you inconsiderate fuck. No one cares.

Sincerely,

The bitch looking for a way to remove your DNA from hers

Dear Road Crews

There is snow.

In fact, we live in a city that gets a relatively large amount of snow each year. Isn't it interesting how that works, evry year the same thing?

And since we live in a city that gets a lot of snow, and on this annual (i.e., happens every year) basis, I didn't think you would be surprised when this year, once again, frozen water fell from the sky. Not to mention, the weather men were actually right for a change and had been accurately predicting this for, oh, five days or so.

So you can imagine my frustration when, a full twelve hours after the end of the storm, you have yet to drive down my street with a plow.

I really don't get what the problem is.

You seem to be more than happy to invite the news crews to see your gigantic stores of rock salt, and your rows and rows of freshly serviced plows.

But see, there is the problem. You have the plows, you just don't know how to properly use the plows. Simply having the plows doesn't really help me, I need for you to actually climb into the drivers seat and bring the plow into the vicinity of my house.

Were you to do this, I could potentially get in my car and go so something, perhaps even Christmas shopping. As it is, I may have to walk over, get the FU-250, and come down to your yard full of plows and kick your ass. And then take one of those plows and go shopping.

I'm just saying.

Sincerely,

Angry Snowed-In Lady

Dear Unknown Caller

Or shall I just refer to you as "Chad", since you were stupid enough to give me your name when you started your sales call. News-flash for you Chad, there really is no such monster as privacy anymore. When you call someplace, even a business with rollover phone numbers, all it takes is a quick dial of *57 to trace your blocked call and start a complaint against your company. In fact, once I told Julie at the Annoyance Call Reporting Center what you had said to me, she was more than happy to tell me the trace results, start the complaint AND connect me to the local Police Department to file a report against your company for "Obscene and/or Threatening Phone Harassment". I'm guessing with you as an employee there are many, many such complaints against your company.

Word to the wise you stupid little man, the way you treat others is exactly why you are busting your ass -- with little to no positive results, I'm sure -- and still stuck in a low-paying, futureless job. You're probably living in your parents house and still single too, right? Don't bother to answer. We both know I'm right.

Chad, I hope you have a wonderful weekend. Hang out with your friends, toss back a few drinks, and be sure to brag to them about how cool you were on the phone doing your cold-calls last Friday. Make sure you tell them how exceptionally witty you were when speaking to me. I want your call to me to be the one that stands out the most in your pitiful pontification of business skills and wit when dealing with someone whom you wrongly assume is "just a secretary" and too stupid to track you down. I want you to remember me Chad. Especially on Monday when the official complaint, naming you as the offender in question, is delivered to your company by the Sheriff's Department.

I'm guessing Monday will also be the day you file for unemployment. Again.

Happy Holidays Chad,
From the Woman who will never, ever, have your small penis in my mouth. No matter how pretty you ask.

Learn How To Drive That Thing

Dear Fucktard in the Escalade:

If you are going to insist on driving a gigantic truck, you need to actually learn how to drive it.

We all know the trick, when you make a left turn during rush hour you pull out to the dummy lane and wait for space. I know. I do it too. Except you know what? I actually know how to drive.

When you kinda pull into the dummy lane, with the whole ass-end of your stupid truck hanging out into oncoming traffic, you are not "sneaking" across the street. You are just really fucking pissing me off.

And you know what else? As absofuckinglutely stupid as it is to drive those big-ass SUVs, it ain't rocket surgery. On occasion, I drive the FU-350. In fact, I drove that mother fucker all the way to Florida and back. And the most amazing fucking thing? The entire 36 hours that I was on the road I did not ONCE take up three fucking lanes, you moronic piece of shit. I can even back that fucker up with a trailer on it.

So, either learn to drive your tank, or you shant be allowed to venture out of your neighborhood. I will take away your keys. And then I will use said keys to dig your eyes out of your stupid fucking head.

Asswipe.

Sincerely,

The Lady in the Normal Sized Car Who Had an Embolism in Front of Your Urban Assault Vehicle at 8 AM This Morning

Fuck you, you bigoted piece of shit.

I don't care if they're brown. I don't care if they're new. I don't give a flying fuck if they don't speak a word of English. It's your fucking job to teach them. Do it. If you don't like it, go find a new way to waste 8 hours a day that DOESN'T involve ruining lives and crushing souls. You're a fucking waste of space and time. If anyone's in danger of not being smart enough, it's you, Fuckhead. It's NOT their fault you are too fucking stupid to figure out how to teach them. It's NOT their fault they landed in your class. Quit whining like a little bitch and do.your.job. Oh, and sucks for you that your secret meeting to change the program wasn't so secret. I will crush you motherfucker. Crush. You. And your little plan. You think life sucks now, wait until I've had a little secret meeting of my own, fucker. Tenure is a beautiful, beautiful thing. A thing you don't have.



Sincerely,

The bitch on the war path headed your way

Hey Moron

That's right, I'm talking to you, the asshole that just tried to take out the side of my car.

Here's the deal pal, I was making a legal U-turn, from the turn lane, on a protected arrow. You were running a red light to turn right and didn't even slow down or check for traffic. You're the one in the wrong and for you to throw a fit when I called you on it only makes you look like an ass. You're lucky I honked because it saved you a check from your insurance company. Had I not been feeling so generous I would have let you hit me and had an awesome Holiday Season on your dime. You totally owe me for that one.

Oh and another thing, you know the guy in the semi you cut off when you were trying to give me the finger, talk on your phone, hold your cup of coffee and drive all at the same time? Yeah, well he works for me. Not only did we direct-connect each other to laugh about you shitting yourself when he blasted you with his air horn and you looked in your rearview mirror to see nothing but his grill, but I just might buy him lunch tomorrow for brightening up my day. If I can track down the woman you cut off to get away from the semi, I'll buy her lunch too.

Do the world a favor, the next time you get behind the wheel try to have your head on the outside of your ass, mmmkay?


Squeezy Hugs,
The Wrong Bitch to Mess With in Traffic

Hey, Dickhead

You know, I'm cool with the fact that I share 95% of my genetic material with a chimpanze. You know what is NOT cool? That I share even more than that with you. Seriously, dude. I think you were switched at the hospital, because you are too stupid for us to be related.

Why don't you man up, grow a pair, and stop blaming our mother for every bad decision you make?

Got drunk and crashed your car? Must have been that miserable childhood we had.

Married a crack whore? I guess Mom should have let you express your individuality more.

Lost your job? Again? If you had only gotten that pony you wanted for your tenth birthday that wouldn't have happened.

Still can't find a house and get out of Mom's basement? Man, if she had only not kept you from seeing your father. Yeah, that one. The one that beat the shit out of her and me. The one that never paid a dime of fucking child support and even though his inlaws lived ACROSS THE FUCKING STREET FROM US, visited us one time in six years. And when he showed up he was drunk. Yeah, too bad you didn't get to spend weekends and summers with that total fucking piece of shit.

But you know what? We all had miserable fucking childhoods. So what don't you man up and grow a pair, mkay?

Mom doesn't owe you shit and the next time you throw one of your entitlement tantrums I will. fucking. cut. you. Yeah, I'll give you something to cry about for real you whiny fucking pussy.

Why don't you grow the fuck up, quit leeching off your parents, and set an example for your kids. If you can't manage to do that you fucking moron, why don't you just sign the kids over to your mother and fuck the hell off?

Sincerely,

Your Loving Sister

You've gotta be kidding me

You Fucking Douche Dude....

Your.

Hair.

Is.

Outrageous.

How long have you been tweaking?

Obviously since the early 1990's because I have not seen ANYONE with that fucked up hair style since around 1994.

How often are you on a "trip"?

It must be daily otherwise you would have noticed how bad your hair is.

You've got so much goop on your mop I'm worried you might catch fire when you light up your next crack pipe.

Not only that, it's all short and curly with that one random fucking tiny braid with one random fucking tiny bead. You ARE NOT Coolio.

You are not hardcore enough to go to prison with that hair. I suggest you cut the braid off and lighten up on the product before they throw you in the slammer. Or not, your choice, I bet you'll make some men VERY happy!

Peace out bro,
Hair Police

Final Notice

Never again call me crying that you're all alone and need me to help you if you aren't willing to accept help. You chose your drama, not me, and you have no right whatsoever to try and make me a party to it. I refuse to sit idly by and watch you take abuse and if you ask me to protect you, I will. But don't ever try to give me grief for doing just that. If you don't want him to verbally abuse you over the phone, then quit calling him. If you don't want him to videotape you drunk, then put down the glass of wine, put down the bottle of pills, pull your head out of your ass and deal with life just like the rest of the world. Don't expect me to feel sorry for you when you keep begging him to treat you like shit and he obliges.

I've done absolutely everything in my power to help you out of your rat bastard situation and you've done nothing but go running back and then try to cry on my shoulder for being there. I gave you a key to my house so you would at least have a place of refuge to once in a while find a little peace, and what did you do in return? YOU BROUGHT HIS FUCKING CUNT INTO MY HOME WITHOUT ME KNOWING OR EVER GIVING YOU PERMISSION. Oh, you didn't think I would ever find that out? Yeah, well it’s amazing what a little Dilaudid does to the verbal filter, isn't it?

You are on your last chance with me. As much as it hurts, if you don't straighten yourself out, I will turn my back on you and you will have absolutely no one in your corner for your next breakdown. The next time your son has to call someone because you're drunk and have fallen and cracked your head open, I'll send paramedics and DCFS. The next time your mother calls me frantic because she knows you've taken too many Xanax and aren't answering your phone, I'll call the police and that’s that. The next time you get attacked in a bar because your (lack of) clothing has given some drunk the wrong idea, I will not be there to help you and listen to you cry. I will not go to your house to check on you. I will not answer any of your calls. And I will not even acknowledge you in public.

You have two choices here. You either straighten up and choose to live or you get on with your death wish alone. Either way, it’s up to you to take responsibility for yourself.

And now a message for the person you married: I have changed all of my locks, so you can just keep the house key you took from her and shove it up your ass. Better yet, have the cunt do that for you. I've heard that’s what the two of you are into anyway. At least there’s one person with balls in the relationship, even if she did have to buy them. I find it interesting how you only have the courage to harass me when you think no one else is around or can hear you. Here’s a newsflash, you stupid piece of shit, don't you ever again think you can get away with threatening me because I. Will. End. You. Did you hear me? I will end you. I will. Not my boyfriend, me. I don't need anyone else to fight my battles, especially against a pathetic loser like you. One more word from you, one more drive past my house, one thing gets damaged on my car, or God forbid you do or say anything to my children, and you will be praying that I only have you put in jail. Remember the last time you were in jail? Yeah, you cried like a bitch the whole time didn't you? Well pay close attention, because you lay one finger on me or mine and I'll make sure you're in jail long enough to BE somebody’s bitch, understand? Believe me when I tell you that I will not drop the charges like she did. I am in no way afraid of you. You, however, should have a healthy fear of me.

But you already knew that, didn't you? That’s why you only make threats over the phone, or yell them across a parking lot, never to my face. You wouldn't even look me in the eye when you passed me on your way to harass and abuse the woman you supposedly care so much about. Yeah, you care SO much that you not only moved your whore into her house, but when she was laid up in the hospital you brought the whore along with you so that she could take a turn at making your WIFE feel like shit too. And you made sure all of this happened in front of the kids. Nice. What an outstanding example of manhood you're showing your son.

And speaking of your son, would you like to explain why it is that your girlfriend has new clothes, her daughter has a new bedroom set, YET YOUR SON HAS BEEN WALKING AROUND WITHOUT GLASSES FOR TWO FUCKING MONTHS!!!! Because we all know he needs just one more challenge, right? I mean, really, crossed eyes are nothing that the little bastards he has to go to school with will pick on him for. Are you just waiting for him to explode and start shooting up the school or what? You have to know that’s where he’s headed. His emotional problems have only escalated, especially since the stripper-in-training daughter of your trash shadows his every move. You gave her his room, he has to ride the bus with her, she’s in his class at school, and she’s taken over his best friend. Don't even get me started on how she hangs on him whenever they're together. He has no place to go and get away from the mess you've made of his life. He is an emotional wreck and thanks to your brilliant parenting skills and life choices he will most likely never be able to make it on his own. In fact he'll be lucky to survive adolescence. You must be really proud of yourself.

Do us all a favor and swallow your gun. I'll be happy to drag your carcass to the curb on trash day.

With Greatest Sincerity,
Your Worst Nightmare

Big Fucking Deal

Dear Myspace Bulletin Poster:

First of all, those questionnaires are totally retarded an no one fucking cares what color your eyes are, what your favorite food is, or the last time you told someone you loved them. Another thing that no one cares for? Your passive-aggressive bullshit.

So when you respond to the question "Do any of your friends have children?"

With a smug "Yup. And the ones that don't sure do seem to have alot of worthless advice."

And then post this tripe in a semi-public forum in which many of your childfree "friends" may read it (although if they are your friends, why would you talk shit about them in a broadcast bulletin?), what are your expectations?

So your cunt works. BIG FUCKING DEAL.

Just because you whelped a puppy or two or six doesn't make you smart. In fact, it might make you kind of stupid, given you just spewed your self-satisfied, self-important bullshit all over the interwebs. Seriously, biological processes are no big fucking deal. I took a shit the size of a baby the other day, and I was mighty proud of it. But it didn't make me smarter. Made my pants fit better, but had no effect on my IQ. I'm thinking that spawning is kind of similar. You pop out a cunt loaf, your pants fit better, but you are no fucking smarter.

So don't you paint me with your broad brush, you ignorant slut.

I hope you like hanging around with other "functioning cunts" since you just alienated every person you know without a child. We'll just keep our advice, opinions, babysitting services, and party invitations to ourselves, mkay?

Sincerely,

Someone who was smarter than you to begin with, and remains smarter in spite of the fact that you popped out a brat.

It's Official. I'm Bitter.

Apparently rude is the new black. At what point did it become acceptable to totally disregard those sharing air space? At what point did it become acceptable to pretend you don't notice your kid is misbehaving BADLY?

While enjoying a board game with my significant other's family I was assualted no less than 10 times by a pre-schooler while Mommy ignored the spaztastic display. She trampled. She stomped. She climbed over adults to get to mom. She head-butted a guest and cackled as she ran away. She bounced on the furniture. She stole cards from the game. She nearly squeezed the life out of her little sister. What did mom do? NOTHING. I was flabbergasted! Since I was at his family's I knew I was in tricky territory. I started to nicely (through gritted teeth) correct her hoping mom would catch on. After I pointed out to the little darling that if she continued to bounce on the couch she was at risk of face-planting on the marble coffee table I think my beau started to sense my annoyance and suggested we call it an evening.

Seriously, what is the matter with people?

Good Lord, you are a total douche.

Listen up homeboy. You're a grown-ass man. You are not Lance Armstrong. You have no business wearing spandex. For any reason. You have no business riding a bike in the middle of the day in said spandex. And by the way, that $50 BMX bike you're riding, which you probably stole from your kid or a neighbor, does not a biking enthusiast make. You will never get anywhere near the Tour De France, homie, but you're Number 1 on the Tour De Douche. Do the world a favor, get a job. Get a life. And for the love of Pete, stop adjusting your tiny package while wearing those goddamned biking shorts. No one needs to see that shit.

Sincerely,

The Bitch Who Nearly Ran Your Ass Down

Shut your mouth you Snatchy Snatch

I was outside on a break today and this stupid woman in one of those stupid motorized carts rolls by me. She's easily as big as the entire back seat of a bus and I'm sure she's using the cart because she cant walk her ass through the store.

So there I am, trying not to stare, in fact I turned my back to her completely so that I could enjoy the rest of my cigarette AND THEN I heard her voice.....

Me: *Cough*

Snatchy Snatch : Sounds like you could use another smoke

Me: Looks like you could use another donut

Usually I only say those things in my head, but something came loose this time and it just shot out of my mouth. I'm really glad I was all bundled up since I do have to work here. There is no way she'd recognize me.

Hopeless Effing Snowflake

Dear Hopeless Effing Snowflake~
You really balled this one up, didn't you? Well I hope that your cunt beast of a mother makes some good choices for you and will be there to take care of you until your death. Oh WAIT! She's going to die before you! Wow! Then what the fuck are you going to do? Maybe rub those brain cells together and make a decision for yourself? That would have been a good idea 6 fucking months ago. But NO. You had to let her make all your choices for you and now you are ruining lives. Like your husbands, for example. Remember him? The one who paid for the roof over your head and everything else you wanted or needed over the past 5 years while you stayed home? He's the one you ignored while watching TV and talking with your friends on the phone. He's the one who wanted a little of your time and attention and to be able to feed his own son some of the fucking food HE paid for. He's the one who called me for hours on end needing someone to TALK to him so he could remember what human kindness was like. What the hell is wrong with you anyway? You've had friends who have been abused and neglected and abandoned! Have you learned NOTHING??
I'll cut right to the chase, you need to pull your head out of your fucking ass and stop listening to your mother and start thinking for yourself. You and her have done some serious damage that may never be reparable, but you had better fucking start trying to fix it right now, sister.
You don't even KNOW how good you had it. I hope it was worth it.
Sincerely,
The Anti Snowflake

Fuck you Asshole.

Do your job. It's not that hard. You only work an hour a fucking day. How hard is it to schedule a fucking meeting and turn in some paperwork on time? Apparently, pretty damn hard. And thanks. It's not like I need that couple grand. My kids didn't want anything nice for Christmas anyway, and neither did my husband. I bet your pig of a wife won't go without, though, will she? Fuck you if you ever need a favor buddy. I'm done being your bitch.


Wishing you a pain-filled holiday season,

The bitch who'll charge Christmas

You’re a total douche…

Hey you, the stringy haired moron with the mop. You're a tool. I was just trying to enjoy a nice cup of overpriced coffee. It was going great until your dumb ass showed up. I asked you if I needed to move. This was your opportunity to warn me that you were about to assault my system with noxious chemicals. Instead, you said, "no". Whore.

Here's a tip - when you have a customer 2 feet away, don't flood the floor with bleach, you retard. It was nowhere near closing time. Could this project not have waited? Could you have taken 10 seconds out of your oh-so-busy schedule to warn me? I know you were probably really feeling overwhelmed by your idle chit-chat with the guy in the "legalize pot" t-shirt AND mopping. It's a lot to ask from a stoner, I know.

Here's a little tidbit to keep in mind you coont – some people, like me get headaches from harsh chemicals like bleach. By the time I realized that's what you were spraying on the floor, it was too late, the migraine had begun. When I said, "Is that bleach?" and you said, "Yes" and then I said, "Oh, that explains my wicked headache"….this was your opportunity to redeem yourself. You blew it big time. I'll be contacting the corporate offices tomorrow to lodge a formal complaint. I'll be sure to let them know about you.

I bet it hurts to be that stupid. Perhaps this is why, in 25 years, you'll still be mopping the floor for a living.

Knock it off, you sneaky little fuck.

I know you're trying to cheat. Just stop now before you embarrass yourself and force me to call you out in front of all your friends. You are not smart enough to pull it off you little puke. Don't even try.

Signed,

The bitch who controls your grade

Knock It Off - Stalker!

Every day it's the same routine over and over. "Whatcha doin' for lunch?" "I looked for you all over and couldn't find you!" "Do you have plans tonight?" "What are you doing?"

I'm busy. I'm working. Even if I wasn't, I don't want to talk to you. You couldn't find me because I planned it that way. When I take a break - I don't want to listen to your laundry list of complaints about your "evil" family. I'm on break. Breaks are supposed to be relaxing, not stressful. You stress me out you douche! Catch a clue!

FYI - Tomorrow, I'm busy. I'm busy the day after that too. And the next day. And the day after that. I'm all tied up at lunch. I don't have time to chat. Did I mention I'm busy?

Attention Geriatric Meth-Addicted Whore

Fuck you. Fuck your life. Fuck that little shit you drag around behind you who can't seem to keep his hands to himself. He's lucky I only grabbed his hood. If I ever see him even look in my kid's direction again, I'll rip his face off and feed it to you. And you better believe that if that ward of the state-to-be lays another finger on my kid, he will pull back a nub, because I'll have ripped his goddamned arm off and beaten him senseless with it. I realize you failed at parenting with his mother, but now you've got a chance to do it up right. Do your fucking job and teach that future felon some manners. It'll make his stint in the pen easier if he says please and thank you while he's getting ass-raped.

Sincerely,


The bitch who nearly stomped your ass at dinner

Fuck You Sallie

That's right, I'm talking to YOU Sallie Mae Asshole. I've had my student loans with you for four years now, and you STILL feel that every so often you need to ignore my user ID and/or password? Fuck you.

Every single month, I pay my bill. Every other month, I have to go through some elaborate tap-dance trying to log into your stinking site. WHY?

Are you telling me you DON'T want me to pay my bill? Because I'd be more than happy to just stop it, right here, right now. Like half the people I know who don't pay off their student loans. Seems like you'd be happy to have someone who DOES and would stop treating me like shit.

Bitch.

Strung Out Stripper Movement

Every time I turn around I'm inundated with stories about the young Hollywood brats. Mary Kate, Ashley, Nicole, Lindsay, Britney, Paris and now Amy Winehouse. Why are these pieces of crap so damned popular? You know they haven't chewed actual food in 3 years, they're freaking retarded and incapable of speaking (much less writing) in complete sentences. To top it off, their clothes are so trashy even Goodwill wouldn't take them.

Hollywood used to be about elegance and glamour...what happened? Not to say it hasn't always had it's fair share of real life drama, but crikey, it's out of control now! Today's barrage of crap included a video of Amy W. getting an award. She was so freaking stoned she barely made her way to the stage. Then she gave a stunning speech in acceptance of her People's Choice award, "Thanks". WOW. I'm surprised she could stay vertical at all.

2 years ago Amy was a bright young star - a normal-sized person, with a pretty face and an incredible voice. Today, she's a cracked out twig of an excuse for a person who looks like shit and sounds like shit. What happened? Do they suck your brains out the minute you sign a deal? Replace the brains with meth and heroin? "Just to slim you up a bit". Satan would be kinder. What pisses me off the most...these are the pathetic excuse for role models our young girls have. Who started the strung out stripper movement? They should have their asses flogged!

Juvenile Delinquents

Dear Future Guests of the State:

Do you think I am afraid of you?

You are a 14 year old douchebag who thinks its funny to lean on my car while it is parked in the street and not move when I go out to leave for work.

Don't you understand who you are dealing with? I will tear your arm off and beat you to death with the wet end. Clearly, young gentlemen, you do not understand the rage that can be contained within the diminutive form of a single, childless woman in her mid-thirties who is currently experiencing some hormonal "issues."

Don't you understand that if you fuck with me, there is a good likliehood that I will simply tear your throat out with my teeth?

And the look you gave me when I drove away and smacked your moronic head with the rearview mirror because you are TOO STUPID TO STEP AWAY YOU FUCKING DOUCHE only served to fertilize my rage and that look, combined with the hormones already running through my blood stream, immediately gave me the ability to incinerate your stupid form with merely a glance.

But I won't do that. Instead, I will stand on my porch and try and muffle my hysterical giggles as the cops tackle you in my yard (again) because they come when I call.

Profiling is a bitch.

Enjoy that state-sponsored vacation.

Sincerely,

The Evil Bitch Who Never Gives Out Halloween Candy and Doesn't Like Assholes on Her Lawn

I hate you soooooo much

I seriously hate you.

It's 8am and I really can't deal with this shit.
As if I know what the "standard output tray" is. Do you really think I know that?
And when I hit the "show me" button the graphic is so tiny I can't tell which of your parts it wants me to look at.

Just print my fucking rates already.

Fine, I'll turn you off and then back on.

You stupid mother fucker. Now you want me to "check my media". Seriously? What is that!!! How am I supposed to know what you want me to do. You suck balls.

I'm going to the break room to look for a hammer. You better start printing my requests you stupid fucking printer!!!!

Thank You,
The Office Bitch

Didn't I tell you...

yesterday and every day prior to that, in a 100 different ways, that I don't want to dine with you? So, why is it that you came 'round at 10 am to ask me again, "Whatcha doing for lunch?"

Get a clue, douche!

Dear Mother Fucker

I am sorry that your mother sucked at life and failed to teach you manners or how to be a considerate human being. But you're a big boy now and are capable of learning on your own. Pull your head out of your ass, quit being a dick, and don't ever touch my alarm clock again, lest you pull back a nub after moving that switch. An apology wouldn't hurt things either.
Sincerely,

The bitch who carries your nuts around in her purse

Shut up and do your job

Don't fucking tell me about Tivo. I know more about Tivo then you'll ever understand. I've invested more time and more emotional energy into understanding the ins and outs of Tivo then anyone I know. You have to start a show way more then two minutes into it to avoid commercials. Who the fuck do you think you are? Where do you get off trying to out Tivo expert me? Shut the hell up and go back to work. And never bring this subject up with me again. I'm a passionate passionate person who you don't want to argue with. And if you roll your eyes at me one more time I'll poke them out of their socket with a dirty plastic fork.

Dear Son of Bitch

Thank you so much for pulling your junky ass piece of shit truck piled high with crap in front of me this morning as I tried to enter the freeway. Thanks again for having the insight to make your entrance ahead of me at a thrilling 15 miles per fucking hour so that there is a 100% chance that the ass end of my car will soon be in the front of my car courtesy of a 18 wheeler doing speeds in excess of 70.

Due to my lack of sleep last night and my lengthy appointment today, I am thrilled that you had the grace to gift me with both adrenaline and the hate stronger than the heat of 10,000 suns all within a mile of my house and before my first cup of coffee.

Kudos to you fuck head.

Love,
Evil Bitch

Stop the Madness!

Dear Everyone Who Has Had an Email Address, Ever:

Please stop forwarding me stupid shit.

Seriously.

I don't need to see another picture of a pumpkin throwing up.
I don't care why it sucks to be an egg.
I don't need the kind of stress in my life that it will take to forward your piece of trash to 12 people so I don't suffer unending bad luck.
I already know the differences between men and women.
I don't need your happy list of all the things that a "best friend" will do for you. You're not my best friend. A best friend will hold your hair while you vomit. Will you hold my hair? No? Then take your stupid email forward and shove it up your ass.
I don't want to read a cat's journal. I know cats are assholes. I have two of them.
I don't need to know about some car seat recall, I don't have kids.
I don't want a free laptop.
No, Bill Gates will not send you money if I forward this email.
I don't care why I shouldn't buy Ben & Jerry's ice cream. I know I shouldn't buy it. It makes my ass fat. That is enough reason not to. Of course, it is creamy and delicious, so I buy it anyway.
I don't care what you think about (insert ethnic minority here) and how they are taking all the jobs from the Americans. I know how you were hoping to get that job selling oranges out of a shopping cart at the intersection of Page and Union. Fucking immigrants! Bastards! Yeah.
I don't want to see pictures of naked, tattooed old ladies. I am a tattooed old lady. I can see that shit any time I want to.
I don't want to read another "ooooh, funny story for you!"
The next time I see the subject line "You'll like THIS one!" I'm deleting it without opening it.

Oh, and Asshole with Email, if you do have to forward me all this crap, at least have the decency to BCC me. Because when you don't, then every OTHER asshole on your distribution list can see my email. And they can "reply all" and send me more shit that I don't want. OR, they will send it to everyone on THEIR distribution list, and then my email is pasted on the top of that, and if I end up with a stalker because you don't know what the "BCC" is, I swear I will beat you until you are dead.

Thank you for listening.

Now forward this to everyone on your mailing list or you will have bad luck for the rest of the year!

Stop Asking Me

Stop asking me.
Stop asking me to tell you when I'm going to heat up my food so you can stalk me in the lunchroom.
Stop asking me at 9 am what I'm doing for lunch. I haven't even begun to digest my breakfast yet.
Stop asking me where I'm going for lunch.
Stop dropping by my cube (cell) every 20 minutes to "see what I'm doing". I still don't want to go to lunch with you.

How many times do I have to say no before you stop asking? Apparently 100 isn't enough. Please don't put me in the awkward position of telling you that I don't like you and I find you highly annoying. I'm at work, HR frowns on that sort of commentary. I don't like my job, but I'd like to keep getting a paycheck. Please stop, so I can cease having to hide from you at lunchtime.

Can't you just pick up my not-so-subtle hints? Like when you're talking and I walk away. Or when I just say, "uh-huh" in response to everything you say or tell you I'm busy, when you can clearly see I'm surfing the internet. Or when you come to my desk and I don't spin my chair around to look at you. Like when you say, "Come get me when you go on break" and I never do. If you didn't know before, I'm telling you now - this is what people do when they don't want to talk to you. Get a clue! You're a douche!

PM Kitchen Whores

Dear PM Kitchen whores~
Who the fuck do you think you are? Why do you prance in here every week during OUR CLASS TIME like you own the fucking universe??? I guess I have to remind you that not ONLY is this NOT your class time (you have your own, whore, use it) but that you CHOSE to be here. You can choose to leave just as easily and I so wish that you would.
You may act like you are far superior to us lowly daytime students, but here's the deal, princess, I have at least ten years on you and, guess what? You don't know shit. You know nothing about the real world or what its like to function within it. You know your mommy paying for your tuition and how to be a cunt. Thats it. Congratufuckinlations. You really nailed that last bit too. You should be very proud. The wolves that raised you should be proud as well.
It must have been a special day yesterday and all those other times you weren't around puking out your commands from on high, cause we got everything done, on time, WITHOUT YOU. Must have been A FUCKING MIRACLE.
So in summation, you nagging piece of trash, we will clean when we damn well get around to it. All of it will get done with or without your nasally demands and concocted time schedule.
And the next time you open your trap to tell us what to do and you are NOT sous chef (as you NEVER ARE in OUR class) I will remind you of such and then I will kindly ask you to never, ever stick your face in our kitchen during this time of day again.
Sincerely,
The lazy ass AM snatch

Dear Mothers,

For fuck's sake, please stop dressing your daughters like prostitutes. Brittney Spears is not a role model. No one should aspire to dress like that skank, let alone let their children leave the house looking like her. There is NEVER a reason for your brat to leave the house in patent leather. EVER. I don't need to see her ass shake as she waddles down the hall to class. And I don't need to hear her peel her ass cheeks off the chair when she gets up to leave my class. Nor do I need to see her plastic thong as I watch her adjust her patent leather shirt masquerading as a dress before she shakes her goods down the hall one more time. If she's not a whore already, she's well on her way. The free advertising she's doing will surely bring in the customers. Good job mom. Her collection of kids and diseases will make you proud some day, I'm sure.

Sincerely,

The bitch trying not to vomit on your kid.

An Open Letter to Halloween

Dear Halloween,

It's still early here on the west coast so hopefully I've caught you in time. Please STOP encouraging girls to dress like sluts on this glorious unholy day.

It's as if Halloween is now just another excuse to dress trashy and show off your nips and Brit Brit. It's gross. Really. Really really gross.

Halloween, if you are really a horny teenage boy in disguise I can recommend some raunchy websites where you can get your kicks so that I don't have to look at countless girls OF ALL AGES dressed as hookers and hos.

Thank You,

Super Mega Bitch

Hey, Assface

It isn't my fault that you have a shitty little job in a shitty little movie store. If you don't like it, take your fat ass out the door, grab a paper and look through the want ads for a new one. Don't cop an attitude with me because I asked you for a freakin' movie. It's your JOB to know what movies your store has and when those that are out are due back. Fuck you if you don't like it. I didn't make you take this job, nor did I make the lame ass decisions that led you to being a disgruntled 40 something Carl Brutananadilewski look alike with this crappy job. So, if you want to be pissed off about your life, fine, but do it somewhere else. I'm sure mom would love to hear all bout your shitty little life. Go tell her.

I Don't Want To See...

Your ass crack. Under any circumstances. Get a belt. Get a longer shirt. Get pants that fit. Wear a friggin' cape. COVER IT UP - BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY. Duct tape. Surgically implant Velcro on your lower back and then on the waistband of all your pants/shorts/skirts.

I'm giving you fair warning right now, you know who you are...if I see it again...I'm going to mercilessly mock and embarrass you. I will point. I will snicker. I will make a SCENE. I will yell, "I CAN SEE YOUR ASS CRACK! EW! IS THAT POO? DID YOU SHIT UP YOUR BACK?"

And while we're on the topic, I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FLABBY MUFFIN TOP OF A BELLY EITHER. Cover that chub up. Unless you're 2 or you've got abs like Gwen Stefanni give us a break. If you need to stretch and you know your milky white Pooh-bear belly is going to be exposed, here's an idea...go somewhere private. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT come over to my desk to do your yoga moves while you blab about nothing. I can't hear you anyway, because I'm too busy trying not to throw up.

Sincerely,
Ms. Yougottabefuckinkiddingme

Stupid Whore

Hey, you. Yeah, you. The drunk one.

Stop talking about me behind my back and then lying to me about it.

I will beat you like a baby seal.

You don't like me, that's fine. You have a problem with me, that's fine.

But you tell me to my face. Don't pull a bunch of passive-agressive bullshit, gossiping to my friends about me. Did you think they wouldn't tell me? I have news for you, little troll. They like me. They think you are a fucking joke.

You got caught in a lie. Move on. I don't think you are a nice person. It's not the end of the world. I'm not a nice person, either, and I'm cool with it.

Maybe You Should Eat That Cell Phone

Excuse me?

Yeah, you in the gas-guzzling SUV in the drive-through line at Subway.

You're too fucking lazy to walk inside to place your order, at a place where it's really not convenient for a drive-up window to exist, and now you're too damned busy to talk to the person manning the window? Because you're on the phone?

Well boo-fucking-hoo, stop being such a douchebag and place your order already. You're already pissing me off by sitting there spewing your exhaust fumes all over, not to mention the fact that others have to wait while your sandwich is made, even though they've made the effort to haul their asses inside.

I'd so love to shove that cell phone down your throat. I just hope you choke on your food.

Hey Brown Capris

Hey You.

Yes You, Lady wearing dark brown capris with light brown riding boots.

Unless you tuck those pants into the boots and your horse is parked in the parking lot, you're a total douche!

Thank You,

Total Bitch