This is a collection of letters that I’ve written to various people, or groups of people, that I feel needed to be posted for all of the world to see. (Actually, I haven’t actually WRITTEN these. I’m making them up as I go. Enjoy!)
Dear Fellow Fat Chicks Of The World,
There ARE decent looking clothes in your size. Stop wearing clothes that don’t fit you. If you’re going to wear denim, make sue that it’s thick. If you’re going to wear jeans, make sure they’re not low-rise jeans. Nobody wants to see your fat rolls swinging and swaying with every step you take. Also, stop denying that you’re fat. Stop calling yourself average. Being 5’6” and weighing 230 pounds is not average. Being 25 years old and still denying that you’re fat, or coming up with weird synonyms, like “chubby,” “thick,” or “large” is just silly. You’re a grown ass woman. You’re fat. Own it.
Dear Katy Perry,
You’re annoying. I mean, you were cute when you were singing about how guys are bitches and whatever else, but now? Now, you’re singing about being a teenage dream, which I can only take as your not-so-implied way of saying that you like teenage boys. Also, Russell Brand? Really? Really?
As a whole, you have a reputation for being pigs. In my experience, that is a rather accurate summarization of you. I don’t get it. I mean, you feel the need to creep, even if you’re married or in a relationship. What if I showed your lovely lady the things you send to me? It’s not hard to find her, seeing as how your Facebook page clearly says you’re with her and links to her page. And to those of you who aren’t in a relationship of any kind, I can guarantee you that you’re not going to find the one by borderline harassing her on the internet.
Dear People Who Think OCD Is Contagious,
You have problems. More than those of us affected by this disorder. Being around me isn’t going to make your brain start functioning the way that mine does. At the same time, criticizing me for having to double check things or touch things or straighten things isn’t going to make my OCD magically disappear.
Dear People Who Unfollow Me For My Slightly Obnoxious Tweets,
When you’re watching a sports event or a TV show or a movie or just hanging out, you tweet. A lot. It gets annoying at times, but that doesn’t make me unfollow you. So, when I’m watching someone’s live show and tweet about it, and you unfollow me, that makes me hate you. You care as much about BlogTV as I do about the Yankees or Outsourced or I Love You, Beth Cooper, or the fact that your friend Joe just farted and stank up your apartment. So, it’s like this: If you unfollow me because I’m enjoying something, I’m going to unfollow you because you’re an asshole.
What’s up with this “no love for the middle United States” thing? Seriously. Do something about it.
Dear Brittany Burke,
I get that I kinda stole your boyfriend sophomore year, but is that really a reason to completely exclude me from the yearbook? I mean, what about Stormy McCullough-Pendergraph and Angela Jensen? Those girls are the devil’s spawn, yet their ugly mugs are all over your precious little yearbook. I can only assume that you didn’t want my picture in there because then everyone would’ve known why your darling Cody ran around on you…with me. Oh, and P.S. - Your hair still looks like absolute shit.
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