Dear Ms. Weak Sauce

It's come to my attention that you have, without permission, copied my friend's very personal and candid blog, and reposted it on your own MySpace blog.

True, you've acknowledged that someone else wrote it. But why on EARTH would you do this without receiving explicit permission first?

Do you not have the time to write something reflecting your own thoughts? I know you have the ability, I used to enjoy your blogs.

You're articulate, you have a brain. Use it! Stop this "poor stupid me, stuck as a housewife" bullshit and step up. Jesus Christ on a bicycle.

Sincerely,

Someone Who Wants to Rip Your Heart Out and Feed it To You

Life at What Cost?

You there, marching up and down the sidewalk sporting photos of fetuses in various stages, both intact and mutilated. Yeah, I'm talking to you. I have a few questions:

• Why must you force your beliefs on me? I'm not trying to force you to have an abortion, nor am I even insisting you approve of abortion. I'm telling you that it's my damned uterus, and my life that will be impacted if by chance birth control fails me.

• Where in the Bible does it state that life begins at conception? Quote chapter and verse, please.

• If I were to get pregnant, and be stricken with health complications and have to quit my job, would you support me? Would you pay for daycare after the child is born?

• And here's the most important question: exactly how many children have you adopted? It better be a large number, or you're a hypocritical douchebag asshole.

BACK OFF BITCH

Listen dumb ass, if you don't back off and take a chill pill, I'm going to give you the tongue lashing of a life time. When I'm done, I'm going to kick your ass in a public display of rage. I'll sell tickets. I will make a fortune. NO ONE and I mean NO ONE likes you. You're bitter, bizarre and clearly, loyalty is a foreign concept. Guess what? They DO like me. Nothing would give my allies more pleasure than watching me beat the ever-loving crap out of you.

BACK OFF BITCH.

Stop peeping around my cube wall. Stop hovering over my assistant. Stop throwing me under the bus everytime someone lodges a complaint about our department. Get a pair. Has it ocurred to you that perhaps they are being unreasonable or that perhaps they are wrong? When the company nut files a complaint, let's take a moment to evaluate. She's a nut. She's got a reputation for being unstable and disorganized. So, why then, would you automatically assume she's right about anything? Oh yeah, I forgot, you don't know shit either. That's why.

BACK OFF BITCH.

You do realize that every single one of your employees is looking for another job. ALL OF THEM. They all loathe and despise you. Why, you ask? Oh, I dunno, perhaps because you're a total bitch without an ounce of care or compassion for your employees. It could be that. Or perhaps it's that you rarely make eye contact and when you do, you can't sustain it. It's creepy. Know what that tells me? Mentally unstable. Not to be trusted. Your actions have proven my theory time and again.

Someday soon, I'll be happily employed by an actual human being. Me and my boatload of experience are packing our bags. Good luck with all the newbies. Where will this leave you? Fucked. Wanna know why? Because you're an incompetent ass. You don't know how to do jack shit! Do you have any idea what I do or how I do it? No worries, you'll find out soon. Oh, and don't waste your time looking for written instructions either. The files of documentation that outline my duties and the accompanying instructions that could have saved your sorry ass, will be long gone.

Smooches!
One Seriously Pissed Off Employee

An Open Letter to Thorny a.k.a. Stupid, Stupid, Bitch.

Every fiber of my being detests you. You are a stupid, evil, hideous beast of a "woman". You might be named for a flower, but you're nothing but thorns.

Let me count the various ways in which you suck:
#1 You love NASCAR.
#2 You love NASCAR.
#3 You have the manners of a junk yard dog. Rabies-infested hounds have better manners.
#4 You are hideous, with two teaspoons of frizzy, stringy, hair.
#5 Your personality is non-existent.
#6 You are a petty bitch who never takes responsibility for your mistakes. Instead you'd prefer to point fingers and lay blame. LAME!
#7 You own a NASCAR jacket. With patches. GO RUDY! For real. Was that EVER "in"?
#8 You sport tapered velour stretch pants and wear sandals with socks. Together.
#9 You are a stupid, stupid, know-it-all bitch.
#10 You are not fooling anyone, you dumb lush. You might not bring the Milwaukee's Best cans to work, but I can still smell yesterday's brew on you.
#11 You cackle and wheeze like a hyena.
#12 Your ass kissing with the bosses...totally transparent.
#13 You want a piece of me? Next time get off your flat, nasty ass and come say it to my face.

Last thing. Has anyone ever told you that you look just like the evil witch from the Wizard of Oz? I mean, damn! You've got the mole on the tip of your nose and everything. All we need now is a little green paint and perfecto!

Perhaps a house will fall on you too.

It makes me kinda warm and fuzzy just thinking about it!

Products We Wish We Had

Number one on the list:



This would come in handy as well:



Must go check Amazon now to see if this stuff is in stock...

Dear New Friend

I would like to take this moment to thank you. I awoke this fine morning thinking I would have little to amuse me. Then I checked my blog.

Your gross lack of blog etiquette, social skills and anger management have given me at least a few days off from writing another blog. Perhaps even a full week. You cannot imagine the enjoyment I have felt while reading your comments. In particular the one in which you tried to insult, unsuccessfully I might add, the other commenters on what you perceived was their lack of intelligence and education. That post was especially humorous after having read your first comment. In case you don't remember, it's one in which you wrote "it costed him" instead of "it cost him", "presumcious" instead of "presumptuous", and "definately" instead of "definitely." I'm sure my other faithful readers are still chuckling over your blatant faux pas, as am I.

At first I was concerned that maybe you had never heard of Spell Check or Grammar Check, then I realized the beauty of your comments. Did you take my HSYAD blog at face value? Consider it as just a place for the writer to blow off steam? No, not you! Without a moment's hesitation you took your limited learning capacity and ran with it. Leaving in your wake a stream of almost unintelligible thoughts, rants and rage. In short, you have stepped up to the plate and unashamedly owned your douche-ness.

You have unselfishly given of yourself, and again, I thank you. Your actions have forever earned you a special place in my little black heart.

Big Sloppy Kisses,

Your New BFF

Get back here with my change, you stupid whore

Dear Pub Waitress:

When I leave three twenty dollar bills sitting on top of a $41.00 check, I have a hint for you: I am expecting change.

As exalted an opinion that you have of your service skills, there is no fucking way I am tipping you 46% for bringing me a few beers and an appetizer.

Now, on a normal day, I would tip you 20%. I know, lots of people tip less than that. But I'm a nice person. I also figure that 20% on the post-tax ammount. So see, you would have gotten a pretty good tip from me.

But, you had to get greedy, didn't you? You thought I would just forget about that $19.00. But you were wrong. And for every step I had to take stalking around the bar to find you so I could get my fucking money, since after a half an hour waiting for you it became clear that you had no intention of bringing me my change, your tip decreased by $1.00.

Which means by the time I tracked you down hanging out in the kitchen hiding from me, you got a whopping $2.00 tip.

Stupid whore.

You're lucky you got to deal directly with me. I could have had a discussion with your manager about theft.

Sincerely,

The Bitch

White Trash Parents at the Supermarket

Hey you! Yes, you, with the strealish hair and the mutant children. Would it be TOO much trouble for you to keep your crotch fruit organized somewhere near your junk-food-laden shopping cart? I realize that they are extremely annoying and unpleasant to be around, but here's a news flash: After working all day -- later than usual, thank you -- I do NOT want to have to deal with your passel of morons lying about in front of my shopping cart. Nor do I want to hear them screaming after I've given up on that part of the store and gone around the corner.

One more question: why the fuck is it necessary to have four of them? Obviously you couldn't train a dog. Why produce a bunch of kids that you obviously don't have any control over? And the local Planned Parenthood branch is right across the street.

Your Signature Sucks

No, I'm not talking about your handwriting. I'm talking about your stupid ass signature that is attached to each and every piece of email you send out, INCLUDING all replies and forwards, which is just Over The Top.

To make matters worse, you're a member of a message board which you access via email, so this same retarded signature is included. Every. Time. You. Post.

Oh, and it's not just a brief sig, either. It's a fucking paragraph from a book, evidently chosen to impress everyone with how intellectual you are. Well, guess what? It's just making you look stupider than you already are known to be, so knock it off already!

kthxbye,
Someone Who Has Her Own Books