fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.

congratulations, mom. you are still the only person who can make me feel like i’m absolutely fucking worthless.

should i have pressed the hospital harder, probably. should they have billed the right fucking address, certainly.

don’t you think that my credit score being fucked is enough punishment? is it absolutely necessary for you to tear my to fucking shreds on top of that?

i’ve never once been in credit card debt. i’ve never missed one fucking payment. but you make me feel like i just charged $900 at old navy that i can’t pay off. that’s not what happened. when the guy from the hospital called, i should have made more of an effort to get in touch with him. but, since he didn’t say what he wanted and he didn’t say this was about $900 fucking dollars, i let it go. i shouldn’t have and i know that.

i can’t believe that you can still make me feel so fucking bad about myself.

dear congress,

i’m really confused regarding why you get more  vacation days than the rest of us do. plus, it’s not like our country is in perfect order or anything, so shouldn’t you really be using the time you are taking off to take care of things that need to be dealt with? if you’re too busy to talk about our education system during the time you are in session, then perhaps taking your vacations days to work on that would be a better use of time.

thanks,

registered voter

dear web comics and their artists,

i know you want people actually showing up at your site and that’s why you don’t put the actual fucking comic in your RSS feeds, but then i have no real reason to subscribe to your site. if you give me some art and i get to like you, i swear to go to your site at least once during my eight hours on the internet per day.

deal?

i’d like to thank explodingdog.com and creaturesinmyhead.com for not kidding themselves and not offering rss feeds.

07.29.2007

dear mom,

im gay. oh well. im sure my siblings will do you good.

-j

dear self… why can’t you do that in real life?

07.26.2007

dear chocolate milk,

you’re brilliant and i love you.

xo

dear anyone listening,

i’m sick to fucking death of commercials.

especially the ones where a reasonably pretty wife is asking her less than averagely attractive husband if she can spend their money on something arguably unnecessary.

this scenario followed by and overweight undereducated husband forgetting an anniversary and jokingly giving his adoring wife the pack of beer he just picked up makes me want to put a shotgun in my mouth.

maybe i should stop watching the food network.

[bobbly flay throw down is in the process of being classified as an addiction. as we speak.]

-a

03.11.2006

Ok, so I just found out that you’ve been writing about 25 emails a day to one of your female colleagues, all signed with the words “with bated breath”. GREAT! You seem to have decided that bisexual vegetarians with questionable hair choices are more up your alley. WONDERFUL! Oh, did you say that she cares about your academic career, unlike me, who is always at work? Great! I’m such a bitch, aren’t I, me with all of my work and bill paying. I’m glad that someone has the time to listen to you talk about postmodernism. That really takes a lot off my back. Actually, upon close inspection, it seems like this whole thing is taking a lot off my back. For example…

Things I Don’t Have to Do Anymore since You Have Found a Deeply Intellectual Fuck Buddy:
1. Pay your rent.
2. Get you through graduate school.
3. Hear the word “deconstruction” while I’m trying to eat a goddamn hamburger.
4. Fry bacon for you.
5. Pretend to enjoy CNN.
6. Pretend to care about all things academic.

Things I will Be Able to Do:
1. Buy shoes.
2. Eat chicken, which you find disgusting.
3. Shop at a store other than Target.
4. Unapologetically watch America’s Next Top Model.

So go ahead. Fuck her. I know you want to. I mean, you pretty much said so in that last email, now didn’t you? If you’d just get on with it, I could possibly have you out by the end of the month, and be able to enjoy all of next month’s pay check without having to buy any of your books or any of your pencils or any of your goddamn subscription-only foreign news channels. You’ve been to the movies, you’ve had study dates. The next logical step is fucking. So put down the goddamn books and get your mouth on hers. Let’s step it up! I want to go buy myself some shoes!

And yeah, I’ll be sad, and I’ll cry and I’ll eat some Ben and Jerry’s. But you know what? I won’t be homeless. You, my friend, you’re going to have to get a job that doesn’t involve reading Nabokov. So enjoy that. God knows I will. In fact, I’ll give you five bucks if you’ll just hurry the fuck up and get it over with. Take the money, dude. You’re going to need it.

Oh, and yeah, I did break into your email. So go ahead…tell me what you read in some obscure book about privacy. Tell me loud and long. Because I’m never going to have to hear that shit again.

dear portland community college,

if i’m paying the same price for my summer term classes as i do for all other terms, why is it that the library and the tutoring center are closed 42% and 20% more of the time (respectively) than they usually are? having 8 week courses means that i need as much extra help as i can get, and closing the library friday – sunday and only being open til 7:00 when i get off of work at 5:00 isn’t very helpful. shouldn’t i be paying you motherfuckers less if i’m not getting the same amount of resources?

not pleased,

me

ex girlfriend,

i’m shocked that i didn’t die of laughter after hearing that my lesbian ex girlfriend [the only "lesbian" i've been with] is now “in love with her male roommate.”

i’ve gotta say, i’m surprised. we had many conversations about sexuality and how you were the only self proclaimed lesbian i had been with.

i hope cock works out for you,

-your [still gay] ex girlfriend

dear you,

your ability to constantly disappoint knows no bounds. it’s almost as impressive as the fact that once in a while we still get our hopes up.

i was upset sunday night about you not grabbing pie with us, but i got over it since i figured i’d be seeing your in vegas in a couple of weeks. but yesterday i heard that you are not coming to vegas because you’re going to nyc for 10 days to see a girl who has probably fucked about 4 guys since you last saw her. it’s awesome that i mean less to you than some girl who will forget your name the minute some hot guy decides he’d like to fuck her.

but, why am i even surprised…

-me