Dear World

Dear Stoner Working At The Gas Station By My House,

Stop judging me every single fucking time I come in to buy a pack of cigs wearing my Hello Kitty fleece PJ pants (my mom bought them for me, otherwise I wouldn't be caught dead) and a mismatched  sweatshirt and moose slippers.  YOU try driving to the store with over-sized fucking moose heads on you feet!  It's fucking impossible so go fuck yourself with something hard and sandpapery.  P.S. drugs (especially pot) are for fucking pussies.

Dear Neighbors,

It's the middle of February and do you know what that means?  You can take down the Christmas wreath hanging on your front door.  You can do away with the gaudy as fuck plastic holiday decorations littering your front yard.  And better pick up that giant deflated Santa that's been laying around in your yard like a limp pecker for the past four weeks.  Do you know what I hate? Fuckwads like you.

Dear Other Neighbors,

I have two dogs, a large one and a small one and I know what their shit piles look like.  Stop walking your dog in my yard after I go to work and letting it drop a deuce and while you're at it, stop being a lazy fuck and pick the shit up!  If you keep leaving it sit there I will collect it all winter long while it's like little frozen rocks and then one warm spring day when it begins to melt I will sprinkle it all over your porch and pray that when you step foot outside your door you slip in it and eat shit, literally and figuratively.  Don't fuck with me.

Dear Wind Chimes,

Shut the FUCK UP.  Your owner needs to hang you back in the garage until Spring.  Wind chimes are intended for the people that WANT to hear them.  Those of us that are subjected to hearing them against our will are victims of noise pollution and one of these days I'm going to come along in the middle of the night and snip the fucking strings that they are suspended by and do us all a fucking favor.  Find some other soothing sound to doze off to...like a damn chain saw...not these giant rusty gross fuckers:

Dear Manufactures of Hunting Attire, Specifically Women's:

I don't appreciate the fact that you make virtually the same damn garments for men and women but you charge an arm and a leg more for women's.  Is it because women are more apt to spent money on things designed specifically for them (not me!) because wearing a MEN'S article of clothing is frowned upon?  Is it  because you can slap some pink camo on virtually anything and mark it up 25% and bitches will pay for it?  Fuck that...men's gear is way cheaper and I'll happily but a size lager for my boobies to fit into as long as it means I'll save $40.  You can't fool me, chumps.

Dear Teenagers,

I know that your overly dramatic life might seem like it could be over at any fucking moment and that your parents are the biggest fools that don't know anything and all you want to do is get as far away from the people in your school/town/family but let me tell you something, as an ex-teenager.  Those six years that I spent as a weird/annoying/creepy teenager were the most carefree and easiest time of my life.  You're in such a hurry to grow up now, aren't ya?  Let me give you a run down on what it's like to be an adult and then you will understand why I want to forever be 17 years old:  bills/college/bills/responsibility/bills... car payments/bills/mortgages/unemployment/bills/families and kids and expensive shit/parenting/bills...DEBT/bills/alcohol/not having mom or dad to your laundry or cook for you or clean up after you or drive you places/teenage pregnancy (fuk that I will kill someone).  Be a kid while you have the fucking chance to, it only happens once.  Is this what teenagers look like these days?!  Is this an actual hairstyle??!  If so, someone get these girls a hairbrush, stat!

Dear Red Wine,

Stay the fuck in that bottle where you belong.  Asshole.

And because it's fucking late and I'm exhausted and have to wake up in 5 hours I'm reusing this Alpaca picture because it's cute.  And I'm tired.  I already said that.  Peace out.