Monday, November 18, 2013

To My Fellow Con-goers...

Now that another con season is dead, and preparations for the next begin anew (working on a chevron headscarf... my man wants to go to Dragon*Con as Ezio, and I'm making an assassin gypsy!), I wanted to write something that I have really been mulling over for some time.

There's a lot of back and forth among cosplayers and the people that love them/hate them/rant about them on the internets these days. "They're portraying characters and therefore objectification is okay!"  "I'm a person, goddamnit, and it doesn't matter what I wear!  A costume isn't a badge that says it's okay to talk solely to my boobs/abs/junk!" "I LIKE TALKING TO BOOBS OKAY I CHOOSE MY CHOICE" "WHY AREN'T YOU TALKING TO MY BOOBS???" "Maybe nobody should cosplay ever, because we can't agree on how to deal, so obviously we Can't Have Nice Things."

I propose a middle path for all of us. A way that those of us who are in love with fandoms and express it with a desire for interfacing, moldmaking, and hunting down the precise shade of Assassin White can still exhibit their passion on their bodies in a safe environment, and where cosplay-viewers can still appreciate a rockin' bod underneath all that chainmaille.

(To get the haterz out of the way, I shall show you my Geek-Fu. I know zilch about computers/HTML/programming, but I have an appreciation for math, physics, and chemistry.  I'm currently playing a 5th-level elven cleric in a 13th Age game [created by Rob Heinsoo, who worked on D&D], and a Blood Talon Elodoth in a Werewolf campaign. I'm down like a clown with comics [LOVE the work done on The Uniques, but I also hang with mainstream titles], I speak Japanese, have lived in Japan because anime [loved it anyway], and I almost flunked out of college due to an EverQuest addiction. Yes, I'm a geek, yes, I'm old, move on)


First of all, to a varying extent, you want attention for your creations.  Admit it, own it.  Attention, and the desire for it, are not a bad thing in and of themselves.  It's awesome having people stop you for your picture at cons, it's awesome having people compliment your work, especially when you went to fifty fabric stores for the aforementioned precise Assassin White. It's a rush.  You're at a con, and you will be getting some looks and comments simply based upon the costume.

Sometimes, it's not so nice.  You might hear people saying things behind your back about poor quality construction, styling choices, the character you chose, even how fat/ugly/awkward/skinny YOU look. It can hurt.  But, sadly, that's the way the cookie crumbles.  There's some sucking-up of one's own ego that has to happen because you're putting yourself and your work out there. Also, some people may not give you the level of attention you desire because of reasons. That's something that comes with the territory as well, sad to say.


Stalking, harrassing, groping without invitation, sexually assaulting, or otherwise harming a cosplayer is just as bad as in real life. Which is really bad, and you should be ashamed of yourself if that's how you spend your evenings.  But barring that, please remember that above all, there are people inside the costumes. Treat them politely.  A good rule of thumb is that if you wouldn't want your mom/boss/romantic partner/a police officer seeing how you're behaving, it's probably a bad idea to behave that way to begin with.

That's not to say you can't enjoy a rockin' bod in a costume.  That's not even to say that you can't take a pic at a con and adjourn to the bathroom to masturbate to it, if that's what you're into. Ask for pics, don't just take them randomly. And if you have to compliment, please keep it to the costume itself.  "Great fabric!" is very endearing.  "YOUR ASS. I'D LIKE TO PUT THINGS THERE" is creepy.

Finally, please remember that the entire con floor is not a LARP. It's generally assumed to be OOC vs. IC.  True story:  I was wearing a Young Justice Miss Martian costume that my mom helped me with (my mom is awesome!), and wandering around a merch area, contemplating on buying a steampunk watch part bracelet for Day 2.  Someone came up to me and yelled at me for breaking up with Superboy, told me that Superboy really loves me, and I'd never do better than Superboy.  I was pretty off-guard at that moment, so I'm pretty sure I just said, "Dude, I'm an assistant manager at the Target in Chicago." Because I wasn't LARPing as Miss Martian.


Just... try to be excellent to one another.  Bill and Ted might not have been especially bright, but they hit the nail on the head with that one.  Thank you.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Dear People with Children,

Hey.  I'm one of those unnatural childless women who have no maternal instincts. And I hate your kids.

I don't want to kill them or anything, or even see them come to any harm. However, I do not want to interact with them, and I really wish they would leave me and mine the hell alone.

No more do I want to see little faces peering into my windows hoping to catch a glimpse of my cats or tapping on them to get their attention.  My cats aren't child-friendly, and no, little Aidan, Braden, and Makayla can't come in to play. My home is just as child-unfriendly as the cats are, and I don't want the little bastards inside. I like things like swear words, fire, knives, and porn.  My home is not an extension of their playground.

I ache inside when they're running around at restaurants or during adult-only events.  Just this evening, I was at an adult dance class, which I pay for and dearly enjoy.  I do not enjoy my dance teacher having to tell a posse of random children that they had to either sit quietly or go back in the room. Nor did I enjoy having to strain to hear her over the din of exclamations at how cuuuuuuute the snots were. I pay for these classes.  I pay for nice meals when I can afford them with my partner (not all the time, knives are expensive). And one misplaced tot can really put a damper on my enjoyment of what I purchased.

Maybe I'm being too harsh.  Maybe it's not the kids that I should rail against... it's the parents.  Yep, you, stay at home Mommie Dearest, and you, Checked Out Workin' Dad. You, who act like every shit the kid takes is a miracle delivered from the heavens. You, who insist that the kid is the next Stephen Hawking even though Taylor can't even fucking read.  SHE'S NINE.  You, who dress them up in designer clothes or prostitot gear, and reward their attention seeking crap with lavish praise and toys. And then you whine how parenting is sooooooooo haaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrd and it's the hardest, most demanding job in the world, and you should get PAID for it, damn it!  Well, bitch, in order to get paid, you have to produce something of value, and I'm relatively sure little Dakota isn't the Messiah.

You turn your noses up at me, even though I'm the one that covers your slack at work (assembly?  Li'l Spinners Pole Dancing Classes? Parole hearing? I've heard it all), I'm the one that gets held up in line when I just want to get some beer or tampons, I'm the one that subsidizes schools I won't be using so you can have somewhere to put Jacen during the day. But, you either think that I'm some dumb little thing that just doesn't get it and doesn't know her own mind (even though I'm well over thirty, graduated college with honors, and spent exactly three months unemployed during the recession) and will eventually succumb to the Baby Rabies that infects every woman ever, or I'm the spawn of Satan, an avatar of selfishness and psychopathy without any capacity for love or joy (um... no).  I love deeply, give freely of my heart and time (and porn!), care tenderly for the people I love, and am supremely happy with my choices. My relationship is awesome, my cats are the best, I work hard and I have buckets of friends and experiences and memories and dreams. The only problem you have with me is that I chose differently from you. My choices don't impact you in any way. Choosing not to multiply does not diminish anything of your life.

But your choices impact me.  You added a disgusting little human to the world, and they invade my space without any intervention from you. They violate the sanctity of my private space, upset the beings with whose care I have been charged, add complications to my plans. They knock over the balance of things, and turn fairness into a joke.  Because of the kids, you piss and moan every time I have an advantage over you (able to work longer hours and thus get promoted faster, able to find adequate, affordable housing, able to do things with far fewer logistics required), but you greedily latch on to any advantage you have over me (government assistance, tax breaks, flex time... The list goes on). Sorry you're jealous... I'm kind of jealous too. But you don't see me running down to the sperm bank so that as soon as I'm pregnant, I can have free government avocados.

I really just wish you and yours would leave me and mine alone. We have a wonderful life, and if there was a way to wholly avoid children or parents, I'd take it. But, I have to deal with you... and you have to deal with me.

I'm NOT babysitting.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Sayonara, asshole!

You're really a terrible roommate.

I'm so glad I don't have to deal with you ever again. Your cat has cost me a lot of money with everything it's peed on, and your laissez-faire attitude towards the utilities has cost us our cable and internet.

You're unemployed more than you're employed, you bitch about not having friends in the area but you don't make any effort. You're always around, and you never shut up for five minutes.  Everything I do is in some way about you... if I get a good job, you bemoan your terrible luck. If I'm in a relationship, you wail about your lack of an SO (even though you don't really want one).  You're always the victim, you've never done a thing wrong, and everyone is out to get you.

I've heard your complaints about me too, so I know I'm not perfect.  I'm never around (because I'm tired of you being all over the apartment and I need space), I'm messy (legit, you knew this), I don't clean (because I'm never around), and everything I do is wrong (even though I've been more successful at work, have a thriving relationship, two well-adjusted cats that don't pee on everything, pay the bills on time, and can afford to live by myself).  I'm the awful one. I get that.

Well, you won't have to deal with my messy incompetent ass anymore, so please be grateful.  Me?  I'm going to hang out in my own place, where it's quiet and peaceful, without you lolling all over my sofa while half-dressed and sweaty.

Sayonara, asshole!

Dear People Who Are Not Being Invited To My Wedding,

Hi.  It's the bride.

So, there's been some blowback towards me and Groom about how you're not invited, and that's sooooo fucked up, and that's soooooo unfair, and we're not friiiiieeeennnnnds anymooooooore and don't we care about faaaaaaaaaaaamily or the chiiiiiiiiiiiildruuuuuuun and all this noise, and whyyyyyyyy, my god, whyyyyyyyyyy?  WHYYYYYYYY?

Well, here's your answer!

1) It's not unfair.  I haven't been in elementary school for a long time, and I don't have to invite everyone in the class or keep it a secret. It's an event that's about the wedding between Groom and I.  We've decided to keep it small so we can pay for it ourselves, and we've chosen our nearest and dearest  friends and family to share it with.

2)  If you're our friend and we didn't invite you, this doesn't mean that we don't like you. It means that we are just closer to other people.  I mean, when was the last time you called, texted, emailed, or saw one of us?  If it's been over a  year, don't expect an invitation. We reserved those for people who have laughed with us, cried with us, helped us move, helped us find jobs, helped us feel better after a bad day, who have opened their hearts to us and been true friends in every way.  If we just get drunk every so often, or I just see you at a hobby we both do, that's not really true closeness. Sorry.

3)  If you're an old friend and trying to hold me to some promise I made before puberty to be bridesmaids in each other's weddings... have I spoken to you since high school?  No?  Have you even met the groom?  No?  So... what's the deal?  I don't even know you anymore.

4)  Family. Okay, I know that blood is thicker than water (supposedly) but some of you are awful. It's just a fact... some of you are composed entirely of pus, and we don't want you anywhere near us.  Some of you haven't seen either of us since before college, and haven't met the other person getting married. Some of you couldn't pick us out of a lineup. If I don't know you, don't know anything about you, and have no idea if you'd even be interested in attending our event, it is not a slight.

5)  People with kids.  We aren't kid friendly people. We're not paying for a kid friendly venue or kid friendly event. And we have invited several people that do have children, but understand that their kids aren't invited to absolutely everything. You, however, have demonstrated you can't be trusted, and will unleash your poorly behaved offspring on us no matter what we try to tell you.  Parent however way you choose, it's no hair off my ass if you're "Raising Up A Child" or doing the attachment-parent extended-breastfeeding indigo-children thing or whatever.  They're not welcome, and if you have a track record of bringing them places they're not welcome, neither are you.

6)  Facebook people.  Just because you friended me out of the blue and occasionally like my status updates, or Groom's muscle-flexing pictures (hey, you have good taste), that doesn't make us besties.  I don't even know where you live.  Is it in this state?

7)  People that we've had a falling-out with.  This is perhaps the most ridiculous group of people that I've heard backlash about our small wedding and our limited invite list from, because it makes absolutely no sense.  You think Groom is a dick.  You think I'm a blonde-headed bitch. And one (or both) of us thinks the same of you. ON WHAT UNIVERSE WOULD IT MAKE SENSE FOR ME TO INVITE YOU?  You think I want you to write nasty remarks in our guestbook or get drunk on our tab for free? I've given you your space. Please respect mine.

8)  Finally, people that have awkward FEELINGS for either of us.  There are only a couple of you, but we've both been keeping our distance from you because you can't stop staring at one of us like we're on the menu.  You're good people, but we're not about to give you a venue to let it be known how much you LURVE one member of the wedding party.

To sum up, Groom and I have worked hard on an event that is just the way we want to be married.  We worked hard to make a guest list that reflected this, and all of the people on it are those that we love. Yes, it sucks that you don't get to go to something you really wanted to, but this wedding is not about your tender little fee-fees. The only fee-fees that are important to us at this juncture are our own. Sorry, it's the truth. Hope you're willing to catch up after, but if you aren't, well, I guess we'll have to live with that.


The Bride

Thursday, August 22, 2013

From the Kitchen Slave

Dear Kitchen Overseer,

I put up with getting 7am texts telling me about how I screwed up cleaning the kitchen.  I put up with your mini me acting like he was the greatest in the world and I was worthless.  I put up with all of your stupid policies and terrible hours.

People had come and gone, I'd stayed.  I was willing to get home at 4am and never see my wife.  I was willing to put up with always having fewer hours than everyone else.  I even did the random dish shift without complaining.

You screwed up when you fired me.

Especially because you fired me for stealing when the stuff in question never left the building. 

Double especially because I'm friends with some of your providers. 

And guess what, now they know exactly why I don't work there anymore.

I know they won't put up with that kind of bullshit.

Your Former Kitchen Slave

Locked in the Dish Pit

Dear Asshole Owner,

You kept me locked in the dish pit.  You fired me when I asked about working in another location.

The only good thing you ever did for me was berate me and give me so much more shit than I'll get anywhere else that no other kitchen can crack me.

Where I'm working now I had 1 day of my new boss giving me shit to see if I could handle it.  He mentioned how well I took it.  I told him that I used to work for you.

Haven't had any tests again because you are the worst in town.

Your Old Whipping Boy

Dear Store,

Dear Gadget Place,

Go to Hell.

Now that that's out of the way, let move on.

You hired me to work in the department that would have been the best fit for me.  Then I'm told I'm switching to probably the worst department for me.  Then I show up for initial training stuff and I'm back in the good department.

I get a schedule, and things are ready to go.  Then the trouble started.

You screwed me out of another part time job because they didn't like the availability I had after that initial schedule.  Then when you switched me I had 1/4 the hours.

You put me through Hell getting me trained for Tax Free Weekend.

That was about a month ago.  I've worked 3 days since Tax Free.  I could have had 4, but you wanted me on Sunday and called me on Friday to make that happen. 

Unfortunately for you, I picked up work with a caterer.  I'm getting hours there, and $2 an hour more with raises coming whenever the owner feels like it instead of on some corporate mandated schedule.

As long as you don't schedule me, I'm not quiting.  I like the employee discount.  I like the bonus I'll get because other people are doing their job. 

But you are all sacks of crap. 

I'll be quiting at most a few days before my next scheduled shift.  Probably the day before.  I'm not totally evil, but you screwed me over first.  I feel no loyalty for places like that.

So again, go to Hell. 

The Guy You Hired And Never Scheduled

Dear Friends,

This letter is obscenely petty, which is why it isn't being sent.

Okay.  My boyfriend and I are good friends of you both.  I don't hang out with you as much as I'd like, since I've been really busy with work.  But he's constantly with you guys, and we've done a lot of cool stuff together. We're both members of the same social circle, you had us over for orphan Christmas, and I thought we were really tight?

So why didn't we get invited over last Tuesday?

People that you know less got invited to whatever you did last week.  People that you have actual drama with got invited. My boyfriend and I have been good friends to you, and we don't have any drama that I can think of... why not us?  Are we not as good friends as I thought?

I guess I'm taking this as an exclusion because of my baggage... I was really hoping to start fresh since I came to my new city this year, and I've cut ties with a lot of people that haven't been good friends to me in the past. I know we don't have boatloads of shared history, but we have been on good terms since we met last summer, and we've done a lot together.  I really thought I put the past behind me, but I guess I have to unpack this baggage if I'm ever going to be okay with this.  I guess I'd just like a reason why I'm no longer in the loop.

I'm glad you won't be reading this, or if you do, you won't know it's you, because who wants to feel like they've been targeted for something that's probably not even about them? I know I'll get over it, but I'm just feeling a little raw.


Thursday, August 8, 2013

Dear Rescue Organization,

I am so thankful for you.

So far, I have gotten two cats from you, and they are the light of my life.

When Azzycat was six months old, he had been neglected to the point where his coat was like brillo, his whiskers were broken off, and he was the size that my girlcat Asuka was at three months.  He's almost five now, and he went from being a sad scrap of screaming, squirming little man into being a sweet, snuggly, handsome cat. He's so sociable and gentle that nobody would have guessed he was a rescue.

N7 Infiltrator just came home, but my god, is she a good cat.  She's busy and happy and purry and playful, even though at four years old, she's a tiny kitty. I'm blessed to have her in my life, and I feel like she was instantly part of the family. Even though she was neglected and abused, she is still willing to take a chance, and I am grateful she chose us as her family.

I hope you keep doing what you do, and I'm forever grateful that I encountered your rescue. You gave me two of my babies, and their price is beyond rubies.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Dearest Customers,

You seem to be unclear on a few points of how retail stores work.  I want to clarify them for your edification, and perhaps we will not have to have this argument again.

1)  I can only check inventory for MyBrand stores.  I make no guarantee of knowing what competitor stores carry, because I don't shop there, I shop at MyBrand so I can A) contribute to store sales and B) have educated responses on MyProduct.  I make no guarantee of how competitor products work. We are in a MyBrand store. I am paid by MyBrand to get you to buy MyBrand. I don't know what the Other Store Down The Road has. I have no computer access to the Other Store Down The Road. I'm not paid to call Other Store Down The Road and find things out for you.

2) I hold very little merchandise "in the back". Mostly because it's a postage stamp, and also, because I want to sell what we have to you. My goal is to get ALL THE THINGS into your hands, your homes, and out of your wallet.

3) We're not friends. I don't want to date you. I'm paid to take your money and make you feel good about it. Most of you are pleasant and help keep this job enjoyable. Some of you think my smile means anything more than "buy something." That's not how this works.

4) If you find an associate to be "pushy", all you have to do is say "No" or "No Thanks" or "I'm good" or anything else that means you won't be taking the product. We are tasked to add on and upsell. The company wants us to add on and upsell. We can get fired for not adding on or upselling. Also, it works. Just say no, I won't take it personally or make it awkward, I will move on. I might try something else, because I have to, but you can say no to that too. It's only as awful as you make it.

5) #4 goes triple for store cards, preferred-customer programs, giving phone numbers or email addresses or zip codes or any of it. Just say no and move on.

6) When it's closing time, finish up what you're shopping for and get out. You're draining our payroll by keeping us attending to you especially if you don't give us any return on investment.

7) I know you'd probably shop here more if your kid worked here, or if you worked here. Please stop calling to get a job. We take applications, review applications, and then the manager interviews and hires. The manager has never been badgered into hiring. The manager is actually quietly sadistic and enjoys it when crazy people demand jobs. She also doesn't want to get sued so she gives no information over the phone except when she's calling to offer someone.

8) You really don't need to apologize for your shopping behavior. If you spend a bunch of money, browse around more, and then spend a half-a-bunch money more in 20 minutes, I am not going to refuse the transaction. Do what you're going to do, as long as you're out by close.

9)  But be aware, I'm not your servant. I'm a salesperson. The only difference between me and a used-car salesman is that I don't have any cars in my store. I may be ringing you up, but I am not here to play step-n-fetch, personal assistant, or cleaning lady. My business is selling MyBrand, not picking up your two-year-old's cheerios.

I hope this clears up a little bit for you.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Dear Front Line Retail Employees

Dear Front-Line Retail Employees,

Hi.  I'm your boss.  Maybe I'm not your boss, but I am a boss, and I am going to tell you how to excel at your jobs.

Here's my job, and this is a job I take great pride in.  My job is to write your schedule, ensure all day to day operations are running smoothly, ensure you have everything you need, and make sure you're doing your jobs.

It is MY JOB to make sure you're doing YOUR JOB.

Just because you don't like it, or it's not very glamorous, or you think it's stupid or wrong or whatever, you still have to do it, and it's my ass if you don't.  If you piss off a customer, I have to smooth things over so he doesn't complain to corporate.  If you guys make a mess, I have to clean it up, or ensure you're cleaning it up. If someone is late, or doesn't show up, I have to cover it. And nobody thanks me for it.

If I ask you to stay late because someone else didn't come in, I'm a bitch.  If I ask you to clean up, I'm a tyrant.  If I placate a pissed off customer, I don't have your back. Any criticism I level in your direction happens because I am worse than Hitler. But the very moment I fuck something up, it is ON.

I'm trying to run a business here.  If you're not down, you need to get out. I will keep doing my job, and please get behind yours.


Wednesday, July 17, 2013

The Jabberwocky

Dear Local Grocery Store,

I have a serious complaint about an employee at your store.

The night cashier at your store quite possibly gives the worst service I have ever seen. The thing about customer service is that one actually has to read their customers, realize what they want, and respond accordingly.

Maybe I'm an anomaly in this day and age, but when I go to a grocery store, to pick up toilet paper, cat food, salt, and other random necessities, I want to get my shit and leave. I want to pay for it and go on about my life.  I don't want a cashier awkwardly commenting on my condom choice. Some people like that, I don't.

The other day, I almost shot her in the face.  I was in a long line, and she was the only cashier open.  After getting a woman with a $200 order through the line, she turned her attention to the guy directly in front of me, and proceeded to chitchat. She started on his clearance garlic bread, and then they moved on to his dinner plans, what his wife is doing, what his friends are doing... all the while, I was standing there, my feet aching from a long day at my job, and casting wistful looks at the self-checkout not ten yards away.  All I wanted was to buy my single roll of paper towels and scrub brush and go home, to rest and recuperate from another long day.

Rest was not to be had for awhile.  After she rung him up, I got to my spot in line, and she started chitchatting with the guy behind me. And then Mr. Clearance Garlic Bread decided that his garlic bread hadn't been cheap enough, and started kicking up a fuss after she scanned my paper towel roll. She stopped all operations and chitchat, and started reviewing his receipt... all while in the middle of my transaction. She told him, "I'll get you taken care of, hon..." and then turned back towards the register, and looked at my order, and looked at me.  She was within two seconds of asking me to wait, when I just glared. She decided to scan my scrub brush then, and asked for my rewards card. Since this isn't my first time in a store, I had already put it in, and if I was bitchy when I snapped that it was already in there, just total me up already, I apologize. I just could not handle two more seconds of the BEST DAMN CASHIER IN THIS WHOLE JOINT MAKING FRIENDS ALL OVER MY PAPER TOWELS.

Not every customer wants to be treated with customer service out the ass.  Some people just need a place to hand money. I'd shop online for things that I need right now if they'd instantly materialize on my doorstep, but since that hasn't happened yet, I am occasionally stuck patronizing your business.  Maybe you should consider letting a quiet customer continue her night unmolested.

Leave me alone,


Friday, July 5, 2013

Dear Psycho

Dee Dee,

I'm sorry, but I am never going to forgive you for how terribly you treated me while I was at my most vulnerable.  You demanded an endless supply of attention, validation, and emotional support, when I had very little to give another person. And you never once reciprocated. Every moment was about you, what you did, what you liked, what you were interested in, and you never once so much as asked what I thought. Even a simple "how are you" would ahve gone a long way. When I would express my opinion, you just railroaded right past it like I was pennies on a train track. But it's not like you cared. You were lying to me every moment.

You lied about everything... even things as basic as your name, your gender, and your voice. I called, and you had your husband answer the phone. Not that I knew he was your husband, of course.

And then, you had the audacity to misunderstand why I wanted my distance. You were actually surprised that I didn't want anyhting to do with you afterwards. Shocked, even.

Well, bitch, when the truth finally came crashing down around you, I was left feeling hurt, betrayed, embarrassed, and utterly alone. I cried for days. And all you considered was the fact that you lost a source of narcissistic supply.

And I never told you this, but when you sent me the actual picture of yourself, before you admitted the truth, I didn't realize you were a woman.

To the Worst Boss Ever

Dear Kurt,

I have no idea how you are in the position you're in.  You're supposed to be running this place, but all you do is sit in the back and play with your phone.  We can't say that you're even doing anything there. You're not keeping an eye on the metrics, you're not doing paperwork, you're not doing ANYTHING.

And when you do get your fat ass out on the sales floor, all you do is play around with your favorites and ignore the rest of us.  Or abuse the rest of us. Either way, this isn't management.  This is bullshit.

I got real tired of all of your antics, and that's why I'm quitting.  I got tired of you telling me that I'm "going to be fired" if a bad secret shop comes through, even though several did come through and you never followed up on your threat.  Or "going to be fired" if a task I was never trained on was done incorrectly. Or "going to be fired" if my staff (which I had next to no say in hiring) failed to perform according to your ever-shifting goalposts.

And now... you say you'd never break bread with me, because I don't visit you?  Maybe I don't visit you BECAUSE I HATE YOU!

Please die,


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I think a letter is about me!  Can I contact the writer?

Not through this blog, sorry.  Contributions are all anonymous.  If you want to get in contact with someone else, please examine your life and your choices, and then speak to the people you think could have written it. They may surprise you.

Can I send in an email that someone sent me?

That's not the focus of this blog.  That would go to our sister site, Should Have Left Unsent.