Hello Again

So, did you miss me? Of course you didn’t because nobody even reads this fucking thing! Well, except for those of you who do. Just ignore that last part, you two.

I’ve been very busy and important in the working world doing working things and taking trains and buses and cars and commuting every which way I can find. And don’t forget the walking. I walk walk walk like a bizarre little bunny that walks instead of hops.

I’m not going to write too much about the job here. This IS the Internet and all and the last thing I need is to get my flimsy enfeebled identity stolen. My poor identity. It has no money. It would like some. I also don’t want to get my ass fired. Or the rest of me, either.

My feelings about work are so uneven right now anyway, I really don’t know what I could say. Except that I can say I am in a smidge over my head since I was in CHARGE of the whole operation for two days this week. People, don’t put me in charge! I’m a little minnow. I canNOT be in charge yet, ok? Maybe next week.

My return to the world of working has, as I mentioned, returned me to the world of commuting and there are some people there that I feel the need to communicate with. So, I decided to shamelessly copy myself and catch up, once again, on my correspondence.

Here we go:

Dear girl with the pink checkered suit,

Look. I know it’s difficult. Clothes are tough fucking stuff sometimes, but honey, that suit does not fit you. It is too small. And this is not a dig at your size which I think is completely normal. This is a complaint about fit. Your clothes have to fit you, and this is why. For some reason, whether you (and by you I mean every person in the history of ever who has worn clothes) wear clothes that are too big or too small, you look super fat. Unfair? Of course it is. Even if you aren’t anywhere near fat, too big or too small clothes are your enemy, got it? Watch What Not to Wear, British or American version, and figure it out! You don’t have to look fantastic, but you absolutely canNOT look like that again, hear me? And stop talking so loud, that’s just fucking annoying and you need to stop it.

Hugs,
e

Dear girl blatantly hitting on the guy who is only taking the train with you because he interns with you,

It’s not going to happen for you, lovey. No reason why it shouldn’t from what I saw, but it isn’t. He’s not going for it and you too need to stop talking so fucking loud. Could be at least part of the reason why it REALLY is not going to happen. Sorry.

Cheers,
e

Dear guy blatantly hitting on the girl I think might like you back,

Here’s why it’s not going to happen for you. She, I suspect, is like me. You have to fucking say it right out loud if you like her, because she likes you but is oblivious to the fact that you like her. If she is like me, you need to poke her on the shoulder and say, “Hey Stupid, I like you. Pick up on the signs already, fool!” Only nicer. It’s a block many, if not most, girls have that guys for some reason remain oblivious to. Not all girls are playing with you, most have been so screwed over by their official “Boyfriend Who Damaged Me” that they are hesitant to believe a cute boy is shining their cuteness on them. This is why I will always be alone. If you like her, ask her the fuck out, because I guarantee you she wants to go.

After you go out and smooch and other stuff and get married, ask her where she got that bag because it is really cute and I must have it.

Ciao for now,
e

Dear cell phone lady on my bus,

You can be loud on your cell phone. You can take up three seats with all your shit. You can wear shoes that are that fucking ugly. What you cannot do? Is all of those things at once.

I’m tripping you on Tuesday,
e

Dear touchy-feely calling each other not baby but babes couple,

Stop it. Go away. Get out. Be quiet. Shut up. Leave. Don’t do that. Stop. Don’t. Do Not Do That. Ew. Shut up. Get out Get Out GET OUT. Where is your fucking stop, already!

I hope your head pops off,
e

Dear old lady who spent the entire bus ride digging her pointy fucking elbows into my stomach the whole way home on Thursday,

You and me? We’re fighting. And yes, you better move over there and yes I did give you that look on purpose and yes, I was blatantly moving away from you in a flagrant breach of bus etiquette so you would get my fucking point that elbows to the gut are unnecessary and a sign of low upbringing. Ha! That’s right, upbringing!!! Take that, old lady!

Please don’t read this and then die right away, I have enough problems,
e