Dear Aunt Flo,

You are the reason that I am convinced God is male.  After all, only a man could decide that it would just be fucking awesome to make women bleed from their hoo-hah’s.  I have completely had it with you Flo.  My stomach feels as though it’s being wrung out like a wet towel, my head pounds worse than if I had spent a day watching FOX news and I can just feel myself bordering on bitch.

I cannot understand for the life of me why, with all the advances of modern medicine, it isn’t possible to stop you completely without any adverse side effects.  Sure, we can throw a shit ton of money at erectile dysfunction, but the best scientists can do for us poor menstruating women is the pill or a shot?  I don’t want to bleed but I don’t want to gain 25 fucking pounds of water weight either.  Why can’t women win this battle?

Maybe someday I’ll thank the Lord for my baby maker, but that day has yet to come.  Therefore Flo, you remain on the very top of my shit list.

Leave me the fuck alone,

Project Openletter

P.s.  I know you think it’s probably indecent of me to turn you into blog fodder Flo, but too much information or not, it’s my blog and I’ll bitch if I want to.

Dear Brett Farve,

I’ve been in love with you since I was 12 and that love has never waivered.  I have forsaken other crushes throughout the years, said “Goodbye” to Donnie Wahlberg, ditched Luke Perry, cast aside Eddie Vedder and shunned poor George Clooney.  After all this Angelina business I even have lost a little something for Brad Pitt.  Though all that Brett, there you were.  Your smiling face, crinkled eyes, tight ass and adorable southern voice so were always so reliable.  So there.  Every.single.Sunday.

I’ve rooted for you good times and bad.  Cried when I though you were injured, when you won us the Superbowl and when your father passed away.  Felt the sick, knotted feeling in my stomach when you retired.  I wanted to hold you and wipe away those crocodile tears, clutch my big hunk of broad shouldered football man-boy and make it all better.  Hell, my husband may even have let me do it.  That’s just how much you mean to us Packer fans.

To tell you the truth Brett, I had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.  In the last several months I’ve made peace with the idea that I wouldn’t watch #4 come running out of the tunnel ever again.  I’ve mourned and begun to accept.  Then I saw the shit on ESPN over the last week and have had things like this crammed down my throat.

For crying out loud, do you want to kill us all?  Start riots?  Get booed when you return to Lambeau?  Pull a Michael fucking Jordan?  Asking the Packers for a release?  Have you lost your damn mind?

I thought we meant more to you Brett.  I really did.  Please stop ripping our hearts out.

Love,

Project Openletter

P.s.  I still want you back.  Just be a good boy and sit the bench a week or two.  Someone will break Aaron Rogers in half toot sweet.  He’s proven that he tends to be a bit fragile.

Mass E-mail #2

Special thanks to “Disgusted Co-Worker (Reader Submission #4)” for sending in this e-mail she received from management.  Apparently she wasn’t the only person completely mortified by the excrement of some of her co-workers.  This mass e-mail is just fantastic.

Without further ado:

From:  Manager
Sent: Tuesday, July 01, 2008 9:14 AM
To:   Employees

Subject: Women’s Bathroom - GETTING LOCKED OUT

Guys - assuming you aren’t sneaking into the women’s bathroom, please disregard this email.
Ladies - we are about to be locked out of the women’s bathroom due to the abuse of the facility.  We rent this space from XYZ, Inc. and they have contacted Sally a couple of times now in the past 2 weeks about how messy the bathrooms are.  It could be just one person but we are sending a notice out to our temp and full time staff to make sure everyone sees this.  If you “miss”… CLEAN IT UP.  XYZ, Inc. has already looked into putting card readers on the bathroom doors that will only allow XYZ’ers access.

What does this mean?

WE WILL HAVE TO USE THE 2ND FLOOR BATHROOMS.

Not Good.

Manager

Dear Readers

I had an interesting piece of non-mail today.  Remember this?  Well, the thank you’s have gone out.  The kicker?  We didn’t officially receive one.  Someone I know was the recipient of a “group” thank you to be shared with my husband and I (and a few other people, all of whom bought/gave separate gifts).  I’m told it’s a very generic photocard bearing a picture of the couple and the word “thanks.”  The recipient was instructed to pass the card around by the bride, who apparently e-mailed the chosen few and explained to them with whom the cards were to be shared.

How thoughtful.  So glad they enjoyed our lovely check.  I’ll be sure to remember just how much they appreciated it next time we have to get them a gift.  Currently I’m of two minds: 1) get a gift and enclose a blank self-addressed, stamped thank you note or 2) send no gift at all.  The first idea might be a bit more fun, but the second is a whole lot less expensive…

I also want to take a minute to remind you all that should you receive a great mass e-mail, please forward it to me for posting.  Any and all identifying names/places/dates will be changed.  As always, I’m accepting suggestions and submissions of open letters e-mailed to projectopenletter@gmail.com

Thanks!  No, really, thank you!

Project Openletter

Dear Rain,

Thank you for holding off until Monday for once!

Project Openletter

Dear God,

Thank you for answering my question.  Not the “Why” one, but about Bob Dylan anyway.

Project Openletter

Dear Alumni of my High School,

I did know our 10-year reunion was approaching!  Go figure, I can count!  After all, they don’t just let any old schmo into the National Honor Society, do they?  10 years is 10 years.

It’s amazing how many of you bastards are coming out of the woodwork now… sending friend requests on MySpace and Facebook is to be expected, I guess.  I have to hand it to the crazy bitch who called my parent’s house though.  That was ballsy.  Thank God my mother had the sense to listen to my instructions.  See, we’re not really estranged and she does have my phone number and address, but the reunion planning committee doesn’t need to know that.

After 10 years good reflection, I’ve realized that anyone who says High School was the best years of his or her life is either A) lying or B) peaked too early.  I feel sorry for them in either case.  High School is a hellhole that must be lived though, no more, no less.  College is really where it’s at, mmmkay?

Bottom line fellow alums?  I still talk to those of you who do not deserve my scorn and pity.  All two of you.  As for the rest of you?  Have fun reliving the “Glory Days.”  I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a blunt knife.

Effffff you,

Project Openletter

Reader Submission #9

Dear Wells Fargo Bank NA,

You’ve been pretty good to me since you took over Norwest Bank back in the day. Your tellers don’t talk back, and you pretty much leave me alone to conduct my business online. You’ve only fucked up a couple of times, and as I recall, you rectified those errors with grace and expedience.

So I have to ask, why the fuck do you INSIST on pimping your stupid, goddamned, motherfucking check card to me every time I come into contact with a human being at your bank? No, I don’t want to expose my cash in this fashion. I prefer the protection of a pin number to gain access to said cash.

Oh, sure, sure… you say I would have full protection in the case of unauthorized use. But really, now, we all live in the real world. Some assfuck gets my card, drains my cash buying blow-up dolls at Teasers Palace, and I can’t get a hold of someone in your theft protection program until Monday, *IF* I’m lucky. How does that help me when it’s Saturday night I need to get cash so I can buy dollar taps of Old Style at Toon City? And what about the other bouncing payments hanging all over the place that I get to spend weeks on the phone in customer “service” hell attempting to clean up with the Good Enough Diploma crowd?

Well, no more. Please kindly take your check card “offer” and shove it up your glory hole. And tell your marketing department they’re a bunch of hacks.

GFY,

Customer 3########4560

p.s. Can you also make a deposit with a lot of zeros behind it magically appear in my account? that’d be great. Just take it from Bill Gates’ Euro Disney vacation account. TIA!

Dear MA Rep. James Fagan,

You, sir, are a douchebag of epic proportions.  When I heard about your tirade yesterday, I thought “Oh, just another FOX news slam against a Democrat.”  I assumed that your words were being taken out of context or at very least they cut out something that would show remorse.  Then I saw this.

No excuse can be made for you or your despicable words, you sick fuck.  Further victimizing innocent children is about the most disgusting thing I have ever heard.  As your mouth relished forming those horrible words, so do I relish writing this letter.  May you die a violent death and be subjected to an everlasting hell all your own.  I’m envisioning something involving all the bastard child molesters you have represented raping you repeadly in the ass.  However, I’m sure that the Devil has a broader imagination than I do.

Burn in Hell you hideous piece of shit,

Project Openletter

P.s.  Should a reader wish to contact Representative Douchebag, you may find the contact information here.

Reader Submission #8

Dear friend of mine,

When you asked me to be in your wedding, I was happy to be a part of it. However, taking me out for coffee less than three months from your wedding date and asking me to be your best man, then informing me I’m in charge of organizing a Vegas bachelor party was kind of shitty. You see, I’ve been the best man and/or bachelor party organizer for about five other weddings. Every time, I get screwed out of money.

Now you’re talking about having me do the same for a trip that requires multiple plane tickets and hotel rooms. I can’t even afford to take my wife to Vegas, let alone afford to underwrite a trip for a group of 15 guys. Having approximately two months to plan this trip doesn’t leave a whole lot of time to look for deals. I’m willing to organize a trip to a ball park, some bar hopping, maybe even a strip club if you’re into that sort of thing, but if you want a Vegas trip, you’ll have to figure out how to make that work yourself - and I’ll let you know if I can find a way to afford to attend.

Sincerely,

Guy who wishes you’d asked that other friend to be best man.