Dear weird guy at our pool who eats beef jerky and treads water while looking at a piece of paper attatched to the side of the pool:
you are weird. what is that piece of paper you are always writing on? is that beef jerky you are chewing? Why? do you even need a speedo for that kind of workout? I am so curious as to why you feel the need to come to the pool everyday and write on a piece of paper while treading water and chewing beef jerky
Dear stupid people who come to class and check their myspace the entire lecture on their laptops:
you are stupid. why did you even come to class? we didn’t have to turn anything in. If you are going to first of all waste your time on a stupid website, I’d advise not doing it in the middle of a class. So stop wasting your parents money and check your myspace in 50 minutes. It can wait!!!
Dear people who must talk to me while butt naked in the guys locker room:
I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t. I don’t care, tell me I am uncomfortable with my sexuality or whatever, but it is just absolutely gross for others to see a dude hangin out with his wang out. Some people are comfortable rockin out with their cock out. I am not. And I am not comfortable watching it either. End of story.
Dear hot sober chick I meet when I am trashed at a party:
If you wanted to take advantage of me, now would be the time.
Dear Lean Cuisine tv dinners:
I would like to personally thank you for all the deliciously easy meals you gave me to stick in the microwave for 8 minutes. I like to cook, but sometimes I am just too tired. My special favorite I hold dear to my heart: the shrimp pasta. Oooh you are so delicious, and you only take 8 minutes of my time to prepare. I don’t know what i’d do without you. My only rant is you could stuff a few more calories in these meals. I mean 280 calories is more like a pre-dinner snack than a full on meal.
Thanks for putting those insipid stickers on my produce. I know its a freaking plum and boy am I glad to know its also known as a number 2205. I am also glad grocery stores hire dumb fucks who don’t know a tomato from a kiwi fruit and need a number to ring up my fruit. Oh and by the way, speaking of kiwi, that reminds me, how would you like a 2 inch square sticky bandage ripped off your nut sack you selfish prick?
Dear Nighttime Doorman: You seriously need to stop falling asleep on the job between 3-6 am. And please, for the love of god, call me before you let strange people in to see me. Kinda defeats the whole concept of security, no? Call before, not after.
Dear Daytime Doorman: Stop calling me Birthday Girl. Although I agree that I should be celebrated daily, my birthday was in May. And the Hawaiian shirts you wear on a daily basis need to go. Unless you’re going to give me an umbrella drink on my way out, it’s time to revisit the idea of acceptable work attire.
Dear Japanese Delivery Guy: The bowing has to stop. That was cute the first three times you delivered my spider rolls but it’s getting old now. Bow one more time and I’m slashing your tip.
Dear 12th Floor Couple with Big Ass Scary Dogs: Please don’t be offended next time I exit the elevator prematurely. Your dogs are capable of swallowing me whole.
Dear Executive Assistant: Repeat as many times as necessary, “I will not send any more stupid emails.”
Dear Program Manager: Go to PMI.org for the proper definition of Program Management. While you’re at it, do a Google search for Control Freaks Anonymous. You are a Program Manager, not Hall Monitor.
Dear Analyst: A meltdown is not an appropriate business response.
Dear Men of Slowtwitch: there are many wonderful ladies out there who never post because as a group, you are way too aggressive. It feels like the 6th grade in here most of the time with marriage proposals and post your pic demands. Please be nice to the ladies. They are fun and could dress the place up quite a bit. Be cool. Please?
Dear Totally Obsessed Ironman Friends: it’s incredibly awesome that you are so focused but you are boring as hell to talk to (I know, I’m guilty, but I’m reformed!). Try to talk about something other than yourself sometimes. And really, telling someone other than your spouse the distinct shade of your pee is gross and not as informative or interesting as you think it is.
Dear Older Men in My Swim Class: for the love of God please! Buy a new swimsuit. Your XXL Speedo has been drooping for two years, the experiment needs to end now before something very bad happens. Seriously, I feel like getting out of the lane when you are there.
Dear Co-workers: you never lose weight because you drink mocha milkshakes and eat bread sticks for lunch and your butt is the shape of your chair because you don’t get off it.
Dear Snooty Organic Food People: organic food is wonderful for people who can afford it but looking down on others for not eating it is seriously elitist. And making your own balaclava does not make you better than everyone else.
Dear Former Frat Boys Who Live Across the Street: you are very fortunate that your parents bought you a house and a nice car. Now stop being a menace to society by driving drunk and blasting loud music. And put the weight bench in front of the house away you freaking morons.
Dear Husband: I am so lucky to have found you. Everyday we spend together is a wonderful day.
First of all I like to say Thanks Trailbait. Well said!!!
Dear Fat co-worker, Quit your mumbling and grumbling about how thin I am. Maybe if you would put down the 4 bagels with tons of cream cheese that you eat before noon, and just walked away you wouldn’t be so fat. In fact speaking of walking maybe if you did more walking and less sitting it would help you thin down some.
Dear Lacadasical parents in public, try and make you kids mind. Others do not want to deal with your yelling and screaming kids, who run around like little maniacs. This goes for restaraunts as well, do let you kids climb under the tables, or over the booths. It is so annoying and rude.
Dear Wilbur my sweet little lab, I am buying a gate this weekend to keep you out of the kitchen. It is a miracle I haven’t accidentally killed you with all the chocolate you have managed to steal from the far back of the counter, and the countless loaves of bread you have stolen, or the shrimp you snagged out of the sink last night. I know it will no longer be any fun to sneak in the kitchen when your family is not looking and help yourself to whatever it is you can find on the counter, but I do love you and want you to live before to steal something that is really harmful. So a gate will be up tomorrow bud.
It feels like the 6th grade in here most of the time with marriage proposals and post your pic demands.
It was already explained that the pictures posted on ST serve as porn for guys to view at work, since you can’t access porn sites at work without being detected/fired. Sad, isn’t it?
So, perhaps 6th grade is too harsh of an accusation, maybe more like 9th grade.
Dear jerkwad who stole my bag of food and Diet Pepsi from the refrigerator on our floor. I really hope you choke on it (and probably will since it was healthy stuff, not crap like most people around here eat). But hey, thanks for taking the grilled chicken out of the bag and leaving it. I get very cranky when I’m hungry.
Dear Posh Spice, Thanks for the rockin’ haircut, though I think my version looks better than yours. BTW-- your husband is totally hot!
Dear Valued Client: I could make progress on your report if you would quit interupting me asking “where is my report?”
Dear Loan Underwriter: I know your 18 months as an underwriter qualifies you as a global real estate expert, so when I get testy when you ask for three more comps to support my value in my appraisal, please forgive me when I mistakenly consider my 26 years of experience to be superior to yours.
Dear Son in College: Switching from a business-marketing major with a guaranteed foot in the door with Pfizer sounds like a wonderful thing to your mom and I, however if you think switching your major to criminology is a great thing, best of luck to you.
Dear Left Achilles Tendon: I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Dear Neighbor Who Leaves A Note On My trash Can When I Forget to Put it Away Before Leaving for Work: I think I know who you are and payback is a bitch.
Dear Hotshot in the Escalade With Wheels and Big Stereo: You look like a pimp, get a hat with a pink feather.
Dear Creepy Guy Lurking at the Hamburger Stand While I Was Stopped at a Light: Yes, I saw you leering at the young girls in short shorts walking through the parking lot. And yes, I looked right at you and said ‘you f-ing pervert.’ And I hope you saw it.
Dear Caffeinewhores Who Park in the Fire Lane of My Apt Complex to Go to Starbucks: Karma will make sure you spill hot coffee on your bare skin.
Dear Salad Bar Worker-Guy at Whole Foods: I’m really not dating anyone. I just wasn’t interested, but I’m sure you’re a really nice rasta dude. And you do a good job keeping the salad bar stocked with good stuff.
Dear Guy Who Lives Below Me: Thanks for helping me carry in my Christmas tree last year. I had a really sweet impression you, but now I can hear you having sex with your girlfriend every night, and I think you are a freak. You need to know that she’s totally faking and she sounds like a little yippy dog.
Dear Annoying girl who swims in my lane: The hot guy in the faster lane does not want in your bathing suit. You are annoying. Stop staring at him and telling me about every minute you spent with him last week. And no, I dont believe you when you tell me that strangers stop you on the street to tell you how hot you are. You’re not.
Dear Girl who works in the lab next to mine: You’re pants are too short. Everyday you wear pants that are too short. And you are only 5 foot 2 so I can understand why you cannot find pants of the appropriate length. Also, stop wearing black pants with white sport socks and brown shoes. Its wrong!!!
Dear Building Receptionist: You are 50. Please stop dressing like a cheap hooker.
Dear People at the Vet’s Office: I was 15 minutes early to an appointment on Wednesday, and still waited until 45 minutes after my scheduled time slot for the vet to see my very sick cat. I didn’t complain. Today, I was 10 minutes early for a routine vaccination appointment for my not-sick cat, and still waited over an hour for the vet to come in. Then I was kind enough to ask you to see the very elderly woman and her very elderly cancer-riddled cat next door before you gave my cat a rabies shot. You didn’t say thank you. I am disappointed.
Dear Safeway Check-out Guy: I didn’t need or want a giant plastic grocery sack for my one tub of pesto. I said, “no bag, please.” You acted like you didn’t hear me. You put the pesto in the bag anyway. I took the pesto out of the bag and gave the bag back to you, and you mumbled something about how you weren’t allowed to let customers leave the store without their items in a bag. Bullshit. I do not want your plastic bag. I am able to carry my pesto to the car without the help of a future roadside littering vector.
Dear Cat: Why, oh why, must you be hit with sudden attacks of diarrhea every time we go to the vet? It’s less than 10 minutes away. You go once a year. Please, gain control of your bowels.
Dear Hubby: Next year, please ask me what I want for my birthday instead of just getting me something like an item I already have. Yes, what you got me is bigger and better, but what I have works just fine and in my efforts to cut down on the waste I generate, I don’t know what to do with the item we have that works. And please, for big milestone birthdays, think a little outside the box.
Dear Parents at the Mall Playground: Pay attention. For God’s sake. 1) Your 12-year-old is too big for the area. 2) Your 12-year-old plowing over the little kids is not “funny,” nor does it (as you so eloquently stated) “teach them the way the world works, bitch!” 3) Don’t leave your small children and then go to try on 20 pairs of shoes, counting on the other parents to watch them. 4) I don’t want to talk to you about why I should dedicate my life to home school. My daughter isn’t even two yet. Let her play and let me enjoy watching her. 5) The sign says “No food or drink,” specifically so fat fucks like you won’t bring Cinnabon and a 48 ounce Diet Pepsi into the area. Which you promptly drop/spill. Which my child - and 20 others - promptly run through.
Dear Shark who attacked a guy off the beach I wanted to swim at yesterday: I hope you’ve had your fill of humans because I plan on swimming there again soon. Please get healthy and stop eating during the day. Please go back to being nocturnal and staying hidden during the day. We know you are there, we just don’t want to see you.
Dear super hot guy who has the most amazing butterfly: OH MY! I had almost forgotten about you since I haven’t been to the pool much lately. I won’t forget about you again I promise. I feel sorry for the guy who was attacked by the shark (he’s okay BTW), but you are more beautiful then any of the sea turtles and fish I see swimming in the ocean, so I’m glad they closed the beaches yesterday.
Dear hot sober chick, quit wasting your time with this fag – I saw him talking to guys in the locker room while he was butt naked; and I’m pretty sure the dude’s wang was hanging out.
Dear Oprah:
The world loves you. You have more pull than the monkey in the White House. But when you tell the general public you don’t have to tip on Wine / Alcohol when you go out to dine, I have to disagree. Sure 20% $180 bottle of Hollywood and Vine Cab sounds excessive, but most Servers (we are SERVERS not SERVANTS!!!) have to tip out 3-5% of their total sales (Beer, Spirits, and Wine included) to the Bartenders (for getting the libations) Host staff (for seating you) and S.A. (Server Assistant)/ Busser.
So when people tip $15 on your $250 tab ($180 being wine), I HAVE TO GIVE UP $12.50 back to the restaurant. So I net oh, $2.50. I guess I don’t get to pay electric this month. If you make enough to enjoy such a delicious bottle of wine, you have enough to tip on it as well. 15% please. 10% I can still pay my bills. If you want to disguss this topic further, or invite me to be a guest on your show, feel free to contact me. Thank you for your time.
Lawrence
Dear guy who rides a nicer bike than mine: I know your bike is nice. I know your fast and have all the cool gear to go with said bike. Please stop riding by my house every morning and when you see me, stand on the pedals and appear to be dropping the peleton in a fast sprint. I know your richer than GOD and have a great life and lots of friends and probley tons of different bikes. What are you doing in my neighborhood anyways? don’t you know you can get shot here?
Dear grocery clerk: I understand your probley lonely. I know that ringing up groceries all day can be tiresome…it would be for me… but I really don’t want to hear about your life. I am buying a bunch of bananas and a case of soda. I don’t need to hear about how your dog did this or that or how they changed your hours or how your going on vacation. I simply want to pay for my groceries and go home. I don’t appreciate the dirty look you give me if I appear to be impaitent. Your there to ring up my groceries and I appreciate it but I don’t have to be your best friend…bitch.