Dear Mr. Passive-Aggressive Employer,

You are just too douchalicious for words. You really are.

Yes, I do rely on the job that I have with your company to make ends meet, and I do truly enjoy my work. However, it is a part-time position and nothing more. As long as I still have a full-time position, which btw pays more than twice what I make with you, it will have top priority on my time. So no, I will not be shortening the schedule at my full-time job to accommodate you, no matter how many whiny and threatening emails you send.   

In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a teenager on her first job.  My world won't end if I lose the pennies a week I make with you.  True, it will suck until I find another part-time gig, but I WILL find one and I'll be fine in the long run.  You've seen my numbers and know what I do for you, so either pay me what I'm worth and bring me on full-time or STFU and get over it.  Either way, I'm taking care of me and you can like it or lump it.



Signed,
The Bitch with a backbone and a mortgage payment

You Disgusting Waste of Flesh

The games you play with your daughter's health are unforgivable. Beyond that, they are also extremely dangerous and irresponsible. The fact that you derive such a feeling of power over not only subjecting her to medications which carry the probability of extreme and debilitating side effects, but that you expose her to this risk with a callous "wait and see if it helps or harms" attitude both disgusts and sickens me. So does your practice of not telling her father until after the fact. Don't even get me started on your penchant for verbally exploding on him when he takes you to task for keeping him in the dark about his daughter's health and well being. You should consider yourself lucky that he only files away your illiterate missives and never actually unleashes his fury on you.

As for the brilliantly worded and creatively punctuated email tirades sent in a paltry attempt to defend your irresponsibility and lack of care, don't bother. Your actions speak volumes on their own and can never be erased with any of the pathetic excuses you have to offer. With maternal instincts such as yours, you have no right to consider yourself anything more than an egg donor. A feral cat is a better example of a mother than you.

I would like to say that I hope you die in a fire, but I sincerely think that's too good for you. Perhaps some sort of flesh eating disease, which of course would have to be misdiagnosed, improperly treated, and carry with it a litany of horrible side effects would be more in line with what you deserve.

In short, I wish upon you all the pain you've tried to inflict on her.

I would settle for you finding a decent Psychologist for yourself.

Get over yourself.

Just get the fuck over it already.Or at least stfu about it. I'm so very tired of hearing how poorly I measure up. I got the memo regarding my inadequacies as a human being a long time ago. There's a reason I left at 17, a reason I've not been back. You sucked as a parent. You like to pretend you raised us all on your own, but the truth of the matter is we raised ourselves. Had we not been the people we are, your little self indulgent experiment that passed for our childhood would have failed. For at least one of us, it did. So the next time you want to pat yourself on the back for all your successes, suck on that a bit before you do.

Sincerely,

She who will never be enough

You all suck SO bad

It's bad enough that you laid me off after returning from a weeklong vaca in Mexico. And actually had the balls to sit there and tell me that you'd changed your business plan, and couldn't afford my salary anymore.

Let's review -- how did you get to work that morning? Oh yes, in your Lexus SUV. Which parks next to your wife's Lexus sedan. In the garage of your ginormous mansion on the banks of the river. But I digress.

So today I go to your fucking website, to refresh my memory on how response cards are laid out and worded. And what do I find?

I find that all of the wording that I had painstakingly gone through and corrected, that wording written by your 20 year old protégé who couldn't punctuate a sentence properly to save her soul, has all been changed back to the way it was. And the font has been changed back to the fucking illegible stankass font she originally had it in, too.

Fine. Just fine. Fuck off and die. I tried and tried to improve the image of the company, by changing some of the marketing strategies, and updating the text on both websites to appear as though at least someone in your employ had a grasp on the English language. Forgive me for giving a flying fuck. I sincerely hope your entire business is circling the drain.

Holy shit, you're so much more of a douche than I thought.

I pity you.

It has to hurt to be that callous. I can't imagine what a foul, polluted place your mind must be. Nothing good ever escapes it. It must be stifling in there, what with all the hate and stupidity banging around, causing all that hot air you spew. There's a reason your children don't respect you. You don't deserve it. There's a reason you don't have any friends. You haven't earned them. There's a reason you will die a lonely death. You won't let anyone in.
I don't know why you felt the need to tell me you love me. We both know you don't. We both know the truth of the matter. There's no point in pretending. Your son stopped caring about anything a long time ago. That, above all else, will be your legacy. You gave him nothing as a mother. You didn't teach him how to love, how to care, how to experience the world with any sort of joy. You gave him to the world, a huddled mess of broken bits. It's amazing he's become the man he is in spite of you.
I'm done. I'm done pretending that it's all ok. I'm done playing nice when you don't deserve it. I'm fucking done with you and all your games. The next time you attend a funeral and decide to comment on the "box" the bereaved have chosen, or the appearance of the spouse of the deceased, I will knock your last tooth out and spit in your face. You are a cancer. Consider me your chemo.

Signed,
The Bitch Who's Sick of Your Shit

Hey, Dumbshit

What in the hell were you thinking? You not only posted your supposed best friend's name and location on a public board, but now you've taken the liberty to also post the names of her children and provide a link to recent picture.

Did you bother to ask her first? Did you let her know that you have so little value for her children's privacy and safety that you not only gave out their names and hometown, but also put pictures of them on the Internet? Did you let her know that, thanks to you, at least 2000 strangers have access to pictures of her children and can pass them around at will? Gee, maybe the kids will get lucky and someone will photoshop some sort of shitty saying on the pic and let it go viral. Woohoo, won't that just be a barrel of laughs for the little ones.

The entire world making fun of them, now who wouldn't want that?

You're such a good "Aunt".

To the ugliest crayon of them all

Your racism is showing again, you might want to tuck that back in. Keeping it cleverly disguised as just your annoying personality keeps the rest of us merely sickened by your presence rather than violently opposed to you drawing breath. So really, it's in your own best interest to keep the white sheets and antiquated opinions your dirty little secret. No one else is interested.

kthxbai