Whiskey Girl

Dear Neighbor,
You have done nothing but complain since I moved in. The music's too loud (at 6 PM on a Friday). The smoke from your BBQ pit is a little unsettling (on the 4th of July). But this one takes the cake.

After TAKING $1,000 from me and writing a receipt for your gorgeous 1976 MG convertible that we shook hands on (which, apparently means nothing anymore, not even to your withering ass), you gave me my money back and told me that your mother broke down and started crying in protest. SHE'S EIGHTY-FUCKING-EIGHT!

"It's the last sign of my father's deteriorating mental health," you said. You mean the 90-something with Alzheimer's who hasn't sat behind the wheel, let alone drive it in 15 years? That's a scumbag move, and while I'd never wish death upon anyone, at least a phone call, or a stop by my house would've been pleasant to at least HEAR the news from you, not your absolute miser of a wife who looks like she stepped off the set of the leper scene in Jesus Christ Superstar right before walking down the aisle for you. 

That was my dream car, jerkoff. Thanks for getting a kid's hopes up. 

~Mike

Dear dude named Tim:

You are creepy and should stay away from MY boyfriend.

Dear boyfriend:

You should be more freaked out about this. 
Unless you are gay and indeed like random men walking into the shower with you.
If so, you should probably tell me asap.

Dear life:

Shut up shut up shut up.

i'm going crazy just washing you out of my hair and out of my mind
keeping an eye on the world so many thousands of feet off the ground
i'm over you now i'm at home on the clouds
towering over your head.

can't believe they broke up :(
song dedicated to shelby and andrew :(

You like roses and kisses and pretty men to tell you
All those pretty lies, pretty lies
When you gonna realise they're only pretty lies
Only pretty lies, just pretty lies

Dear Tourists,
I'll let you in on a few things, so you stop pissing off the general public in London. If you are trying to buy tube tickets, you have to queue. I know, shocking idea, eh, but that's what we do. Pushing infront of people will get you shouted at and scowled at, and makes us Londoners hate you. Another thing, yes, things may be exciting, but if you're going to stop and look at something, don't block the way for everyone else. Do not talk loudly in your language, silly as it may be, it really bugs us. Don't be rude to us, especially if we've not done anything to cause this. If you're lost on the tube, just ask someone, we don't all bite. We're not also all incapable of speaking foreign languages, you never know, you might find someone who can talk to you in your native language. 
One more thing, enjoy yourself. Don't make a huge big deal out of it if something goes slightly wrong, as I have heard many a time. If you're on the wrong tube, get off, and get a different one. Simple.
From,
A Londoner Who Wishes You'd Take This Advice 

Dear You,
You're going to be surprised when you see me next weekend, but I hope in a good way. 
Love,
Your Friend

Dear Hair,
I love you, you look so nice. It's a funny thing how great a haircut can be.
Love,
Me

Dear You,
Practically everyone wants us to get married when we're older. I can't say I'm completely against the idea (no matter how much I pretend to be).
Love,
Your Friend x 
P.S I love how much of a babe magnet your brother is, especially considering as he's three years younger than you. I suppose that doesn't really help your self esteem, but know this, I think you're gorgeous.

Dear You,
How is it that you have girls all clamouring after you? It amuses me, I don't really understand it, I mean, you're really funny and interesting and intelligent and all that but.. I don't know, I probably don't see it because I'm two years older than you. I hope I get to see you and the rest of your family soon, I saw your brother and father in may, but not you or your younger brother or your mum. I should be coming down soon, so hopefully we'll all get together.
Love,
Your Friend

The littlest things that take me there
I know it sounds lame but it's so true
I know it's not right, but it seems unfair
The things are reminding me of you

i haven't written in here in so long, but i read everyone's posts everyday and i'm glad the community is still going strong. right now i feel like such a let down. i'm surrounded by people who love me yet i feel so alone. i guess sometimes it helps to know that strangers will read this and think of me, even just for a second. heh.

beckey.

Dear You,

Ugh, I wish you'd stop the "I'm going to become the perfect guy for whatever girl I happen to be fancying at the moment," because it's misleading. You just screw everyone over each time including yourself. I know you're insecure, but I never realized you'd go to such great lengths to get one person to like you.

It's creepy and spooky. You're obsessive and manipulative.

I wonder if this is just your way of finding out who you are, though; trying on for size the idea of the perfect guy for different girls. You can't be happy that way. Not in the long run, anyway.

Sometimes I think it's admirable how much you'd go through to please one girl because you care so much, but then I think about how sad it really is because you're willing to compromise yourself to get the girl, too.

And us girls are not stupid; we figure it out sooner or later. You are a flat out liar, and no girl can stand a liar. These aren't white lies, and you don't withhold information... you just flat out lie.

I hope you're being the real you with this new girl because I don't think I knew the real you when we dated; I think you made yourself up to be the kind of guy I might like, and it worked for a little while.

You're always in a rush when it comes to relationships, too. I don't know why. First Kiss, I Love You, and I Want to Marry You all within the first few months with EVERY SINGLE GIRL you have ever dated including myself? Are you kidding me? We're young - take it easy. There's no rush; enjoy life.

You've been desperate to tie the knot with a girl since you were in middle school - what is wrong with you? It's one thing to have dreams of having a family and being married one day... but you actively pursue the idea of marriage with every single girl you date - why?

Sometimes I feel like you are not a real person; you can't be. Real people don't act like this, do they?

Sincerely,

Chenda

PS, And stop telling lies about me when you go through all your ex-girlfriends to this new girl. Just tell her I was a monster and I broke up with you - no false and elaborate details needed, asshole.

* * * * *

Dear You,

Of all the thirty-something empty computers in this room, you decided to use the one RIGHT beside me.

And best of all, you smell. Lucky me!

Sincerely,

Chenda

i have inside and outside bruise's EVERYWHERE. lol. stupid ass meat. he was like pulling uhp on my rib cage, and now under my ribs hurt like there's brusies. he probably broke my ribs // & under my right arm hurts cause he was trying to hold me back. and now i have a pretty big hickey / bruise on the left side of my neck. and a somewhat little hickey / bruise on my right side. cause he would bite my neck and i'd try to pull away and he would suck through his teeth, and some how there hickeys bhut bruise's at the same time. lol. don't ask, cause i don't know. bhut i think i made a mistake. i don't think before i do anything. i'm sooo freaking stuuuuuupid!

i talked to chris<3 today at ryans party. for like an hour straight. ugggh. can't go into details about our conversation. bhut at some points he'd tell me personal stuff. i want him to open uhp to me, so i was happy bout that!

i really like meat. i jus don't know if i should. umar's no freaking help, he told me to go for it. bhut i know he knows something. that's like his bfffffe. lol. i don't want to ghet freaking played. plus, he's a babys daddy =[ thats a minus. bhut he's cute as hell, and funny, and he plays around with me, and he's smart, and nice...... uggggh. i'm fallen too hard; too fast! bhut all that i just mentioned is all a very big plus. maybe even a multiplication. lol. idk. im soooo confused.

maybe i'm just CrAzY!!!

i just can't help myself, i absolutely L0VE fucking boys; wayyyyy wayyyy wayyy tooooo much =0]

 dear best friend, 

i hate saying i'm depressed, so i'll say that i really miss you. 
i think i'm going crazy and i have to result to livejournal communities to let it out, because you never know...people might actually listen. i actually think i'm talking more to myself then i'm talking to you. why would i ever be mad at you, you're my best friend and you mean a lot. you mean so well, i'll always love you. 

so scratch this. 

dear me,
what has it come to? listening to imogen heap until 5 in the morning? being dissapointed and dissapointing in return? you're losing everything, what makes you think you're not depressed? well, you're happy a lot, so you're not sad. you're just messed up and bored, needing naps at 4 in the afternoon, an hour after you wake up. psssh, look at you, go do something. 

love, well, 
me.

Dear you,
I have to wonder why I'm good enough to listen to all your sad secrets and personal problems, but not good enough for a simple phone call when things are going good.  Why do I only hear from you when you're depressed?  I hate that you use me that way, and I hate that I let you.

The problem is, when it comes to friends, you're all I've got, and you know it.

Dear "Bambee,"

This is for you:

\n|m

sit and rotate, mkay?

I'm tired of hearing you complain. If the job is that much of a hassle, then quit. Please? You'd make nightshift a lot happier (and probably dayshift, too).

-no love EVER,
me

---

Dear Guy,

First of all, your slight flirtations and amusing shinnigans have me blushing constantly and hardly able to find my words.

Stop that.

I hate not being in control of myself. I hate blushing, especially in front of you. I hate looking like an idiot. However, since it is you who is causing it, I suppose I'll let it slide...for now.

Now, on to the more important things.

I like how you and I have the same taste in music, have the same likes and dislikes, and how we managed to instantly click during orientation at work.
I know others tend to think you're a bit on the "ugly" side because you've not got the body of a jock and you have a slight accent and lisp, but honestly, I actually think it's cute. I like how we click and have all these unintentional inside jokes. I like how you're an "anime otaku" (even if it's self-pronounced), I like how you're always on my side during conversations at work, and I like how you always go out of your way to come to where I am, even if it is just to give me that one look -- you know, the one that makes me blush when you slightly grin and point at something simplistically silly -- or say hey.

You know, it was kind of funny when I was joking about being your stalker and you told me EXACTLY where you lived, described your house and front porch, and invited me over.

"If it's you stalking me, I'll be waiting on my front porch. You can come in and we'll play some X-box and hang out. So, what time can I expect to see you there?"

It was shocking, considering that it was just a joke and you were dead serious about it.

I think I'm going to put a stop to this before it gets too far.

So though I like (re: love) your little surprise visits to my station at work, and all your little jokes and the tickling and the conversations we have, I'm (painfully) telling you to stop. Stop grinning at me in that adorable way of yours, stop looking all sad and tickling me when it's not my "day to stalk you" at work, stop making me like you.

Oh, forget it. You should just stop stalling and ask me out.

I do believe, dear boy, that I'll most definitely say yes. (=

-Love,
Girl

---

Dear Life,

Hahahaha, jerk.

Not funny.

Nope, not funny at all.

You better start turning around for the better, or else, I shall be forced to take you into my own hands.

You do NOT want me to do that, now do you?

Didn't think so.

Start shaping up or else.

-No love,
The Person Living You

---

Dear Destiny/Fate/Whatever,

I have made up my mind to defy you in any manner possible, using any means possible.

Ha-haha-ha-ha-ha.

How do you like them apples?

=D

-In your nonexistent face,
The Girl That Refuses to Cooperate

---

Dear "Brother,"

You have amazing timing.

You make my breaks at work so much fun!

Thank you for calling and cheering up a completely boring shift.

"HE LOVES B o' K? OMG!"

Haha, priceless. My coworkers think I'm a few french fries short of a happy meal now, but that joke and that laugh was worth it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

-Much love,
"Sister"

---

Dear Knee,

Please, please, please, PLEASE stop popping out of place and dislocating.

It is painful, not to mention, not very pretty and may cause me to miss work.

I do not need to be yelled at because you decided to be a twit and move yourself into a painfully awkward position.

Don't let it happen again, or else I'll give the go-ahead to the doctor to have you operated on.

And you and I both know that your fear of needles combined with the cost of the surgery would make that most inconvinent to the both of us.

-Very unhappy with your decrease in performance,
Your owner

---

Dear world,

For the first time in a long time, I am content with how things are going.

And the peaceful tranquility of it all has me wanting to scream out loud until it all stops.

-Contentedly confused,
One of many

 you broke another mirror, you're turning into something you are not.

Dear You,

I miss looking at the three blind mice on your boxers when they peek outside of your pants.  I try not to look, but you end up trying to sit on my head and I can't really help it.  And then you would do those flips and I could see your stupid red and white polka dotted ones that I thought were cute.  You never even complained when you saw that I was wearing those striped ones with the flowers.  I couldn't keep a straight face when you told me how cute they were.

Why is my most vivid memory about you involve our underwear?

That's What She Said,
Me

Dear you,

why the fuck did you ever lend me that one cd? I actually liked those stupid overly-romantic songs with mediocre vocals. Now when I try listen to them they're ruined because they have YOU spilled all over them. funny, I used to like that about them.

I'd hate to see you, one day, in the audience at a coffee shop or jazz club I'm playin at. Watching me sing a song I wrote about you. Strummin' so it sounds just like the hurt you gave me.

you also once gave me shit (in that condescending 'nice' way you do) for being a musician that won't really expose herself. I'll do it if and when I want to and it won't be for you.

I remember the first time I played for you. I kept playing covers and you were begging me to play one of my own songs. I did and when I was done you told me "your voice really transforms when you sing," and called me "throaty." I thought you were sweet and kinda weird that day cuz you said everything that was on your mind, all the time. I'm not like that so I liked it in you.

remember that time I sang Shadowboxer on the futon? I knew you thought I was singing it about you. It was a coincidence that it applied to our current situation. The only reason I chose to sing it is because I love the chords.

you waited months before you so much as kissed me. I hate that I love remembering our first kiss and how bad we wanted each other. or that I think about the first time we fucked and how we were too loud; your poor room mate was home. I miss your tongue and your perfect body. I miss watching you hop around or dancing out of joy after having sex. you were always so happy.

I miss you so much some days that I almost feel like crying. That's hard for to me to admit because I never let myself cry over men. I wonder, do you miss me? The male model who has it all. Do you, at all?

y'know what, whatever man. I survived the volcano, I can survive forgetting you.

Dear So You Think You Can Dance,

Thank you for existing and allowing me to live vicariously through you.

As someone who will never be able to dance, instead of making me incredibly sad, you make me incredibly happy. That even though the dancer card wasn't dealt for me, it was for these men and women and I greatly admire that. I admire that such amazing stories can be told through movement, stories that word just could not give justice to. Most people probably just view the show as a popularity contest and the best looking or early favourites are who they would vote for, but it's so much more than that. I feel as though these dancers are dancing for me. It makes me feel wonderful.

So thank you dancers. Thank you for working your asses off to be amazing at what you do. I truly appreciate you and even though I cannot walk in this life you make me feel as though I will be an angelic dancer in the next.

Dear you,

So I've only seen you twice in the last ten years or so, but I really like you.  I remember when you first came back, when I walked into my aunt's house for Saturday night poker and you were sitting there on the couch, and I was so happy to see you.  It helped that you had gotten significantly hotter during our eight-year separation, but mostly I had just missed knowing where you were.  It was kinda difficult, you know -- you grow up with someone and then one day you can't see them anymore.  It's tough.

But hey.  You have grown one fine ass, mister.  It might even be enough for me to forgive you for flushing my Kitty Surprise! plush kittens down the toilet when I was five.  Oh, wait.  No, no it's not.

It was really nice seeing you tonight, though.  You're so enthusiastic, I love it -- the two of us standing over my aunt's sink, measuring out baking soda for our little science experiment, getting covered it gritty, foamy stuff, failing miserably at what we were attempting, but still claiming victory due to the fact that our hands felt nice and smooth afterwards.  Exfoliants.  Fantastic.

And, for real?  You wrestled with me.  You are one brave kid, even if you are lacking in the smarts department. =P  Jerking my arm up like that behind me?  That was so dumb, I almost felt sorry for having to elbow you in the jaw -- almost.

And clapping games?  Coconut Smile?  Totally worth the fact that the backs of my hands were red and swollen and we practiced in the hot kitchen for so long that we both ended up with bags of frozen vegetables on our sweaty faces.  I especially enjoyed the fact that when we sat outside, you held my hand, rubbed your thumb against my knuckles, and said, "Still soft."

Oh, I think I may need to pursue you, boy.  You will fill my time quite nicely.


Love,
Naomi


P.S. - It still bothers me that you call my mom Aunt Dana and I call your mom Aunt Alice.  I realize it's just a respect thing and we're not really family, but let's just be as non-related as possible so I can stare at your ass all I want, okay? Tyvm!

Dear you,

You make me wonder what the hell Im doing here. I have been with a lot of people and you turned out to be everything I want and I hate it, because you are half-assed about being perfect. Sometimes I think I would rather someone half as amazing at you but who was dedicated to the half they were blessed with than you. its almost nauseating how you give me butterflies and want to smack you at the same time. How you completely piss me off and make me fall in love with you seconds later. how our arguements are totally something you would see in one of the romance movies I hate but that you make me watch anyway. What kind of guy makes his girlfriend watch romance movies, a perfect one? a disturbed one? one who is perfectly disturbed?

You drive me crazy...
I love you
-me

Dear foreigners,

Pig's roasting in the black barrels tipped sideways so that the smoke covers from Wal-Mart to the apartment complexes where now everyone's an appetite and the dogs are scratching to be let out. Fireworks pass through the fume clouds on their way up so that when they explode they heat the air like lightning and lipid rain ensues, filling the cut out construction sights and soon mosquitos spawn, fly is swarms, biting - naturally following bitten, plunging their proboscis so that skin is bursting like the hot dogs of many meats aflame on forgotten bar-b-q's. Cigarettes are back-firing, you're pacing. Calling all your friends, the pressure ever increasing as it's getting darker, darker and you hadn't made plans, so you must find someone to accompany you but it seems that no one's phone is on - straight to voice-mail, beginning to cry grease tears from all the bites. There's a chorus of fire-alarms sounding in building #9, the crab-grass field behind McDonald's has lit so more fat is pumped into the air, Burger KING is open their usual hours and the smoke stack is churning like Chełmno's crematorium, fat rhyming with fat in the air to form complex molecules that fall from the sky in chunks of amber hail filling kitty pools that had been filled with Jell-O-shots but were the first items to be brought in when rumors of rain spread quick like lice, hopping from dirty head to dirty head. The dogs are still scratching, you're still waiting, he's still coming. A toddlers throat is charred from swallowing a smoke-bomb, a step-child's fingernails peeled away by an EMERALD EZMERALDA Hundreds of thumbs are raw from so many serrated lighter wheels, a depressed mother ruddy because lithium gives way to red, puffy bloated alcoholics - and so just maybe just this one night it's alright for daddy to have a few beers. This is patriotism, this is loving one nation under God indivisible Jesus H. Christ - but none of the Christians remembered enough to think that God is hiding up there in the clouds somewhere so maybe his feet are blown clean off at the ankle thus maybe California will finally drift into the Pacific or perhaps just another earth-quake. There's a car-race at Dixie Highway and a few of the rowdies quell their waves of excitement by half-whispering half-screaming into their girlfriend's ears that they're Goddamnwell proud of being an American after the finale is over (though everyone had not been paying attention because they were expecting that they were going to KNOW FOR SURE when it was happening but instead missed it) - MAGNESIUM WHITE POTASSIUM PURPLE! In the backyard after the Meijer Brand Grand-Showcase, one of the bottle rockets goes awry and soon there is screaming that the tree's on fire and the power-pole that'd been boasting the AMERICAN FLAG tips over so the line lights a line in the grass clean as a cut until the fire moves away.

Sincerely, Tyler

Dear George.

I want to do things to you.

Love, your number one groupie.
KLEE.