You're a tricksy bitch. Just when I figure out healthy eating and walking outside, you come around and pull this bullshit. Who wants to go to the store for fruit when you open the door and are knocked over by over 50% humidity and 90 degree heat? How am I supposed to want to leave my apartment and be social with people I haven't seen in FOREVER with your sun fading away my ability to breathe air?
Dammit, June. You're lucky you contain my birthday, you joker.
No love,
Jenny
Ah, we meet again, you gorgeous flawed creature. Remember when you were in that large trash bag some lady at work gave to me after I lost all my clothes in the Bed Bug Incident of 2008? I tried you on and thought, "Ugh, this is what old people wear." Well you've somehow come in style since then.
I often plan to wear you somewhere like a wedding or an evening with Greg and yet here you are, fresh from the dryer, looking wrinkly as hell. As long as I continue to suck at ironing, I will never get to wear you, asshole. So stop being all my favorite colors, looking so good with your classic lines, and being the perfect length for my favorite crinoline.
I look like a middle-aged ladies' couch in you anyway. Why are your patterns so grotesquely large? I could fit ten dainty manic pixie dream woman-child wanna-bes inside of you and you'd still have wrinkles and would continue to seem more like curtains than lady-like inspiration wear for the pleasure of depressed white men.
Yet if I got rid of you I'd kick myself. You're so susie-homemaker and most of my clothes don't really fit my age anymore.
However, when I turn 40, I'll consider it again. So, you're on notice, dress.
Sincerely,
Jenny
Dear Klout.com,
I don't really understand the point of you. You seem to be a graph of how well I'm doing at talking to people on the internet who happen to have a big audience, but I don't get the point. You say that my influential topics include the Detroit Lions when I don't even watch football. I joined you because someone invited me, but you're just a bunch of graphs about social-climbing which isn't very entertaining. Sure we all like boosts to our ego, but I can't really do anything with you. You don't have any interesting stories, you won't go karaoke with me, you won't bring me ice cream, and you don't seem very interested in my cat. You're mad boring, Klout.
Come back to me when I can get some free ice cream though,
Jenny
Dear People Selling Scentsy,
I really want to buy your Scentsy but I don't have a lot of outlets in my apartment and I really like setting things on fire a lot. I know I'll buy something someday as I like to support my friends in selling me nice smells.
Sorry,
Jenny
Dear Facebook Profiles of People From My Hometown Who Post Political Propaganda,
I know a lot of you think I'm a hypocrite for unfriending you for your constant political posts, but consider this! When you constantly post photos of women almost getting raped if it wasn't for their gun it's super triggering as I was sexually assaulted on a date when I was 20 which still makes me feel like a dirty and unworthy person who wishes she was dead. You don't seem to have a lot of consideration for what you broadcast callously to everyone.
And it's also triggering when you post stuff in favor of smacking children around because that shit's mega-unpleasant.
I respect that you have solidly-formed political beliefs. Even though I don't agree with those beliefs, that is not why I unfriended you. As someone who enjoys reading objective analysis of peer-reviewed data, I get tired of scoffing at how your way is the only correct way, the way you attack and ridicule opposing perspectives, the appeal to emotions over facts, the triggering and inconsiderate vile graphics, and the staggering logical-fallacies. I realize you are passionate about your beliefs, but when you use your Facebook feed as a constant virtual soapbox, I may as well be reading email forwards from my grandmother. They're less insulting to my sensibilities.
Why don't you get off Facebook and read a book?
You're not even reading this anyway,
Jenny
Dear @soundman56, my favorite David Weaver in the whole world,
I'm sorry that my mom hasn't bothered to develop photos from your birthday/my wedding. You walked 20 miles in the heat today and you deserve better.
Love very much,
Jenny
Dear @burstmethod, other David Weaver,
Sorry, boo. It's not your fault that you have the same name as my BFF. You are my favorite completely bald David Weaver who molested a tree sapling, then. I know I haven't seen you in about ten years, but thanks for keeping me added on social media out of politeness.
Sorry,
Jenny
Dear Peapod:
You should seriously consider delivering the same day. Some times a girl needs ingredients and it's 90+ degrees and nobody wants to bother with that.
:-(
Jenny
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