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Dear Rose:

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I know that you and I have not spoken since you got fired from work for stealing. I thought it would be best to further distance myself from you and the strange drama that surrounds you. You came to mind this evening because I was looking through my scarf and mitten bin. The last time i had it out was last spring when I was organizing it to pack up for the summer. You just so happened to be over because we were watching a movie. You saw the beehive hat that my mum knitted for me and sang it’s praises for a good fifteen minutes at least. Fast forward to this cold, wintry evening. I crack the bin open and there is no beehive hat to be found. I KNOW that I put it in there. I can’t believe that I am even asking this, but I have turned my apartment upside down, searching for the beehive. Did you take it? ( I hope the answer is no, because that would make you even more pathetic and sad than I already think you are.)

Hopes shes wrong, but suspects that she is right.



Dear Whispy Sprinkles of Snow:

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I bet you think you are funny, you frosty bastards. I sure didn’t think it was funny to slip on a patch of ice that was well hidden beneath you during my run this evening. I have a bruise on my ass the size of a Perry Como 45 thanks to you. No matter how careful I was, I guess you got one past me. The worst part was the slow motion propulsion of my rotundas ass through the chilly night air as I came crashing to the ground in what felt like slow motion that I could not control. That same air that I find a constant source of brisk refreshment suddenly felt cold and mocking as paused to catch my breath before scuttling to my feet and dusting off my fanny and bruised ego. I will particularly relish devouring you and your kind with the snow blower when the time comes.

-wishing we had six months of autumn and no winter at all.


Dear Sunday-

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Thanks for being so relaxing and easy. I daresay you were “easy like Sunday morning” Work was really nice, laid back and calm. I was really impressed by the lack of unnecessary questions asked by guests. People even watched their own kids instead of turning them loose in the museum and parking their asses on the nearest bench. Twas a thing of beauty. . Week two of being a good Catholic was successful too. I wrapped the night up with dinner by my folks, hanging out with my mum, and then coming home to watch a movie and snuggle with Arlo the magnificent.

Sunday, don’t ever change.


To The Doorman at The Cactus Club:

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First and foremost, don’t call me “sweetie.” It makes me uncomfortable, Awkward McCreepsterstein. When I asked you for a refund of the fifteen dollar cover charge that I paid to get into your skeeze bar, I was not joking. Hipster bars in Bay View are a dime a dozen and I would never pay a cover just to drink shitty beer and give myself osmosis lung cancer. I paid the cover to see Eyedea & Abilities. You bastards over sold the show and took my money and the money of my five friends, knowing that you were already packed. The concert hall was wall to wall with bodies of thrifted clothes and ironic haircuts. There was only standing room in the bar and the douchebag bartender would not even turn the bar music down so we could hear the show. Needless to say, I was not pleased. That bullshit line about how they already collected the money from you just made you sound like even more of an incompetent boob than I already thought you were. Trying to appease me with a free bottle of PBR was like trying to fix a car with a melon baller. Free beer would have not put fifteen dollars back in my clutch and restore my faith in humanity. Thanks for nothing, Asshole.

-the girl who called you a jackass and then apologized specifically
for sounding mean, but definitely not for calling you a jackass

Dear Fres:

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Thank you for being a friend. Dinner at Beans & Barley was really nice, I hope that you enjoyed it enough to visit again at some point. Its just a nice change of pace from the greasy Mexican. But cheaper than the mucho delicious-o Thai place. I love being able to talk to you. You are so much better at listening than most people I know. Your insights into the male psyche are invaluable and have been so helpful on more than one occasion with the daily dealings with the dastardly boy. I hope you don’t feel like you are betraying your species by sharing boy secrets with me.

thanks mister!


Dear Snow:

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It would be so much easier to hate you if you weren’t so damn pretty. At least now you are, once you have fallen, been driven through, stepped on, and yellowed by the dogs you will look like the hideous waste of precipitation that you actually are. I think you are cold, mean, slippery, and prejudice against those who have no private parking spots. You are also mean to people who have to take the bus. You drift from the heavens, but clearly have origins in hell.

I love watching you fall, but hate picking you up.

*Bridget, with a shovel ready and waiting.

Dear Boy That Sits in Front of Me in Math Class:

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There is no question in my abnormally large sized head that at the beginning of the semester, I was convinced that you were the most obnoxious creature that i had ever met in my entire life. The way you made jokes that weren’t funny and were the only one laughing about them drove me a little bonkers. The way that you scowl at the learning disabled kid in the class when he asked what was possibly the three hundredth question he was asking that class period enraged me. I thought you were an idiot and quite a tool to boot.

Now I kind of like you. I scolded you via loud whisper for making fun of the young man who doesn’t get it and you apologized sincerely and have not done it since then. I appreciate that. The rest of the civilized human race does too, I am certain. Also, did you borrow a joke book from the library, some of them are actually funny now!

Way to get with the program, kid!

-Girl who usually has an extra stick of gum that she is willing to share.