Dear X:

Dear X,

When you finally drive home tomorrow morning, how many hours tonight will you have spent perched on a stool being the Queen of the Bar Bitches?

j
 
Dear X,

If you had managed to get off that bar stool, would you still have let the tribe wither away from neglect?

j
 
I don't care that you are extended family.

I don't care that you were ridiculously drunk.

Hitting on my teen daughter, forty years your junior, is never going to be appropriate.

You are lucky in that I managed to prevent my husband from fucking killing you.

As a learning experience, this morning we discussed how to handle offensive and abusive males. We assured daughter that even though someone is family, or a supposed trusted friend, she does not have to allow this sort of treatment.

We also reviewed our self-defense class techniques. And we talked about things to do in a "family" situation. Embarrass the bastard. Be loud. Duck, get away from the hug, keep your distance, if the situation has a creepy vibe, get the fuck away. Trust your instincts. Get somewhere safe. Tell someone what is happening.

Happy Thanksgiving.
:( So so sorry that it has happened, Sarah.
It was an issue in my family, to me, for many years & I wish my mum did what you've done.
Hugs to you all. :rose:
 
Dear Folks Upstairs,

Congratulations on your acceptance as the US Olympic Floor Hockey Team! All those hours upon hours of late night and early morning practice are really beginning to pay off.

Just FYI, the dumpster is located in the parking lot of the building adjacent to ours; not in the landscaped area directly in front of my apartment.

And you did not consult me before you chose to buy an SUV to park in your compact-car sized space.

I would really appreciate it if you could learn park your stupid steel behemoth in your own damned parking space, as my supply of willpower is rapidly dwindling.

Ahhh... Quince....

Thank you so much for peering into your crystal ball, reviewing my life, and writing that letter. With the exception of assigned parking spaces, everything you have written applies directly to me. I could go on and on about the upstairs neighbors running around at all hours of the night, blasting the TV so loud I know what shows they watch, letting their dog bark and whine all night. (I ended up adopting their dog. You know, when you don't lock her in a cage in the living room and while you lock yourself in the bedroom where she can't see you, she stops crying, assholes.)

When I finally mentioned to them that throwing their cigarettes off the balcony and onto my gas grill was not a good idea, they blamed it on their two year old. Yes, it's the baby's fault.

I'm tempted to make a laminated, poster-size version of your letter and hang it outside the complex the next time I visit that town.
 
I don't care that you are extended family.

I don't care that you were ridiculously drunk.

Hitting on my teen daughter, forty years your junior, is never going to be appropriate.

You are lucky in that I managed to prevent my husband from fucking killing you.

As a learning experience, this morning we discussed how to handle offensive and abusive males. We assured daughter that even though someone is family, or a supposed trusted friend, she does not have to allow this sort of treatment.

We also reviewed our self-defense class techniques. And we talked about things to do in a "family" situation. Embarrass the bastard. Be loud. Duck, get away from the hug, keep your distance, if the situation has a creepy vibe, get the fuck away. Trust your instincts. Get somewhere safe. Tell someone what is happening.

Happy Thanksgiving.

:rose:
 
Dear X,

I have been admiring the improvements you have made to your home since you moved into the neighborhood. I watched as you built the gigantic four-car garage to house your unnecessarily large, 4-wheel-drive monster pick-up truck that is necessary for your weekly trips to the supermarket. I'm sure it was also needed for your suped-up muscle car with dual overhead cams, racing tires, and inadequate muffler system. Surely, I see the need for all the high-performance parts you can get so that you drive safely under the speed limit on the same roads as my grandmother.

I also took notice of the way you neatly poured blacktop over the backyard so that you can conveniently store more vehicles that would only clutter up your garage. The shed that's bigger than my kitchen was also a nice addition. It cuts down on the amount of grass that the lawn mower you store in it has to work with.

Might I make a suggestion for your next capital improvement? Perhaps, you could build a FUCKING DOG HOUSE for the only LIVING, BREATHING, FEELING thing in your possession. I understand that keeping the dog inside your precious empty house while you race from bar to bar in your "I'm-Not-Compensating" mobile on weekend nights would be unacceptable. After all, there's barely enough room in the four-bedroom house for you, who lives alone. How are you supposed to fit a dog in there? Especially in the middle of winter?

It's not that a dog barking until 3:30 in the morning bothers me. Quite the contrary, I like dogs. No, it's the fact that I know he is freezing and suffering that keeps me from sleeping. It's the fact that I know he is barking all night for a reason, because I know he is pleading for help. He is crying out "LET ME THE FUCK IN THE HOUSE! I'M FREEZING MY ASS OFF OUT HERE YOU FUCKING DOUCHE BAG!!!"

I hear his pleas. That's why I can be found outside in the freezing cold at three in the morning ringing your doorbell. How I expect you to hear it from a bar stool across town, I'll never know. That's also why I look at my clock incessantly thinking "If he's not here by 3:30 I'm taking the dog."

While you're at it, would it kill you to walk the poor guy once in a while? I'm sure you think that generously fencing in your yard after five years of tying him up on 5-foot rope would be sufficient. I'm also sure your dog understood why it was necessary for you to build the garage, blacktop the backyard, build a shed, and then put a FUCKING ADDITION ON THE GARAGE, BEFORE fencing the yard so he could run with a little freedom.

Maybe that's why when your dog escapes, I coincidentally decide to walk my dogs and he, beyond my control, tags along? Maybe.

Being your neighbor, you know that I would never photograph your dog freezing in the middle night while the police, the SPCA and the local newspaper arrive after being anonymously tipped off to what some crazy people would call abuse. No, that would never happen.

However, I do implore to build that dog house to give the poor animal the same respect and consideration you give your leaf blower that sits comfortably in its shed or your power drill that rests snugly in your garage.

I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but then again, so does throwing a brick through all your windows at three in the morning. Yeah, that sounds crazy, too. Build the doghouse. Let the dog in before you go out. Do something, asshole.
 
Dear H,

Happy birthday my sweet darling friend. I miss you like mad. I hope they paint your wings with gold for today.

I dreamed of you last night. Peaceful wonderful dreams. It was your birthday and I came to visit and brought you a cake. We sat and had coffee, ate cake and laughed. You sang and we cuddled and talked for the longest time. For that brief time I knew I had eased your emotional pain.

My wish for you, and I know it has happened, is that no one can ever hurt you like that again. I'm haunted by the pain you were in. I fight not to strike out and hurt people over it. On the good days I can handle knowing. On the bad days I want to take blood. I'm hoping today is going to be a good day and not one of the bad. I'll keep my promise though to never say even when it seems like it will kill me not to strike back. I'm sorry I wasn't there to shield you. I wonder if I will ever lose the guilt that I didn't protect you from that pain, act as a barrier so you never felt that way. *sighs* In other ways I'm glad you shared it so you weren't completely alone with the situation and the pain they brought.

Have peace my lovely angel.

My heart always,

Me
 
Dear X,

If I were a stronger man I would drop you from my facebook page and never speak to you again. I would avoid looking at you and falling for your face, or your laugh, or anything about you. But I am not a stronger man, so the status quo just continues.

I am so weak...
 
Dear,

Just fuck off! (Said in as good of a lady like manner that I can muster today.)

:rolleyes:
 
Dear H,

Happy birthday my sweet darling friend. I miss you like mad. I hope they paint your wings with gold for today.

I dreamed of you last night. Peaceful wonderful dreams. It was your birthday and I came to visit and brought you a cake. We sat and had coffee, ate cake and laughed. You sang and we cuddled and talked for the longest time. For that brief time I knew I had eased your emotional pain.

My wish for you, and I know it has happened, is that no one can ever hurt you like that again. I'm haunted by the pain you were in. I fight not to strike out and hurt people over it. On the good days I can handle knowing. On the bad days I want to take blood. I'm hoping today is going to be a good day and not one of the bad. I'll keep my promise though to never say even when it seems like it will kill me not to strike back. I'm sorry I wasn't there to shield you. I wonder if I will ever lose the guilt that I didn't protect you from that pain, act as a barrier so you never felt that way. *sighs* In other ways I'm glad you shared it so you weren't completely alone with the situation and the pain they brought.

Have peace my lovely angel.

My heart always,

Me

:heart:
 
I don't care that you are extended family.

I don't care that you were ridiculously drunk.

Hitting on my teen daughter, forty years your junior, is never going to be appropriate.

You are lucky in that I managed to prevent my husband from fucking killing you.

As a learning experience, this morning we discussed how to handle offensive and abusive males. We assured daughter that even though someone is family, or a supposed trusted friend, she does not have to allow this sort of treatment.

We also reviewed our self-defense class techniques. And we talked about things to do in a "family" situation. Embarrass the bastard. Be loud. Duck, get away from the hug, keep your distance, if the situation has a creepy vibe, get the fuck away. Trust your instincts. Get somewhere safe. Tell someone what is happening.

Happy Thanksgiving.

WTF. That's beyond wrong...I hope your daughter okay and thoroughly understands that she doesn't have to put up with this in any way, from anyone, now or ever. And many kudos to you for talking to her about it. *hugs to you all*
 
Dear X,

I have been admiring the improvements you have made to your home since you moved into the neighborhood. I watched as you built the gigantic four-car garage to house your unnecessarily large, 4-wheel-drive monster pick-up truck that is necessary for your weekly trips to the supermarket. I'm sure it was also needed for your suped-up muscle car with dual overhead cams, racing tires, and inadequate muffler system. Surely, I see the need for all the high-performance parts you can get so that you drive safely under the speed limit on the same roads as my grandmother.

I also took notice of the way you neatly poured blacktop over the backyard so that you can conveniently store more vehicles that would only clutter up your garage. The shed that's bigger than my kitchen was also a nice addition. It cuts down on the amount of grass that the lawn mower you store in it has to work with.

Might I make a suggestion for your next capital improvement? Perhaps, you could build a FUCKING DOG HOUSE for the only LIVING, BREATHING, FEELING thing in your possession. I understand that keeping the dog inside your precious empty house while you race from bar to bar in your "I'm-Not-Compensating" mobile on weekend nights would be unacceptable. After all, there's barely enough room in the four-bedroom house for you, who lives alone. How are you supposed to fit a dog in there? Especially in the middle of winter?

It's not that a dog barking until 3:30 in the morning bothers me. Quite the contrary, I like dogs. No, it's the fact that I know he is freezing and suffering that keeps me from sleeping. It's the fact that I know he is barking all night for a reason, because I know he is pleading for help. He is crying out "LET ME THE FUCK IN THE HOUSE! I'M FREEZING MY ASS OFF OUT HERE YOU FUCKING DOUCHE BAG!!!"

I hear his pleas. That's why I can be found outside in the freezing cold at three in the morning ringing your doorbell. How I expect you to hear it from a bar stool across town, I'll never know. That's also why I look at my clock incessantly thinking "If he's not here by 3:30 I'm taking the dog."

While you're at it, would it kill you to walk the poor guy once in a while? I'm sure you think that generously fencing in your yard after five years of tying him up on 5-foot rope would be sufficient. I'm also sure your dog understood why it was necessary for you to build the garage, blacktop the backyard, build a shed, and then put a FUCKING ADDITION ON THE GARAGE, BEFORE fencing the yard so he could run with a little freedom.

Maybe that's why when your dog escapes, I coincidentally decide to walk my dogs and he, beyond my control, tags along? Maybe.

Being your neighbor, you know that I would never photograph your dog freezing in the middle night while the police, the SPCA and the local newspaper arrive after being anonymously tipped off to what some crazy people would call abuse. No, that would never happen.

However, I do implore to build that dog house to give the poor animal the same respect and consideration you give your leaf blower that sits comfortably in its shed or your power drill that rests snugly in your garage.

I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but then again, so does throwing a brick through all your windows at three in the morning. Yeah, that sounds crazy, too. Build the doghouse. Let the dog in before you go out. Do something, asshole.

There's a special place in hell reserved for people who abuse and abandon pets. :mad:
 
X+X= Assholes.

Seriously, the more I have to listen to you- one crowing, one whining, the less I respect either of you.

Okay, congratulations, you spent 50k on yourself after your wife left (smart woman) and now you're bitching about being overwhlemed with work, gym and father commitments. Yet you still find the time to make an ASS out of yourself towards the majority of the women involved in the forums.

And as for you- it's over and will remain so. Especially since you decided to spew the details of our sex life all over a chat room full of people I WORK WITH.

Fuck you both, and I hope you crash and burn, because you deserve to.
 
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