Dear -----

I found something that I wrote a couple of weeks ago when I was at work, pissed off and in an overall rotten mood. I printed it out to blog and then forgot about it. I found it tonight, so I thought I would put it here for amusement purposes -- at least my own anyway.

Dear Mr. Perfect,

It must be hard being so perfect. You say you aren't but you never admit to doing anything wrong. Your tone is always even, you are never rude, short or sarcastic. You are always in good spirits and you never put yourself first. You have never lied, cheated or broken any promises. You have always been truthful, forthcoming and genuine. You have never cuased a moment of doubt or confusion and when the going gets tough, you are there to meet it head on. You never shy away from feelings or uncomfortable conversations. You have no problems saying what you feel, as you would never expect others to read your mind. You are always friendly and outgoing and you take the time to be a friend and allow others to speak about their lives and offer comments, questions and opinions. You never nitpick a person's faults or wrongdoings and you never keep an argument going. You never forget to send birthday cards, especially to people that are nice enough to send them to you. Gosh....I wonder what it must feel like to be perfect like you?

Dear Idiot on the Thruway,

Are you really an idiot or do you just not give a fuck about the potential dangers that you are causing when you are literally sitting.....alone.....in the left hand lane, waiting to merge over into the line of cars that have been waiting patiently> Do you not realize that you are blocking the lane for other drivers that would like continue along that highway to their destination? Or is it really none of your concern because it's not inconveniencing you at all? Either way you are a clueless asshole and your driving sucks. You deserve to have your license taken away before you kill someone with your elementary driving knowledge and lack of skills. Moron.

Dear Present & Annoying,

I hate it when you don't have meetings. Do you want to know why? Because then you have nothing better to do then sit at your computer and catch up on e-mails which turns in to you forwarding me things and asking me if I will print them for you. Why don't you print them yourself? There's a little print icon at the top of you screen, do you not see it? Do you not realize that it takes longer for you to type me the e-mail, find my name in the address book and hit the send button? Are you really paying me all this money to print shit? Wow, talk about easy money. Too bad good talent is going to waste....but hey, I'm just there to collect my check.

Dear Drama Queen,

Apparently you have forgotten that I am not moved by your silent treatments and temper tantrums. I can go a very long time, if not forever, keeping to myself to avoid your drama. I think you need to look at your own actions and realize that the very same reason that you are mad at me about, you did yourself. Did I get angry and stop speaking to you? No. So, do you what you do because it will be a cold day in hell before I ever call you again. One bit of advice though....go pop your pills, smoke your weed and realize that life doesn't revolve around you!

Dear Zumba whore,

I'm not a skinny girl so I know there's no way that you can't seem me when you walk right up next to me and insert yourself in my personal space. Why do you feel the need to stand shoulder to shoulder with me in a workout class that requires us to have at least a little space to move? Furthermore, do you not see me glaring at you? Do you realize that when we are working out and I'm bumping in to you and my hands are flailing about that I do it on purpose? Its my way of letting you know that you fucked up by invading my space. You will not conquer me. In case you haven't noticed, I'm bigger than you and I could probably take you in the parking lot any day. Consider this notice.

Dear Puker(s),

I'm not sure which one of you two lovely little furballs it is, but I'm kind of tired of finding piles of vomit on my carpets throughout the house. Apparently one of you likes to over eat from time to time.....haven't you ever heard of portion control? Do I need to refer you to a support group for bulemia? It's funny how you wait until I leave the room to make a deposit too. Oh, and you never do it on the kitchen floor where it can be easily cleaned up. It's got to be on the rug of course. One more thing....when I return to find my present, you both go running. You think that's pretty amusing, do you? I don't. If you don't cut it out, I may have to turn you both into anorexics. How do you like me now bitches????

Love,
Me