Dear UPS Man,
If you are just going to throw my package on the doormat and walk away, do you really need to ring the fucking doorbell? My 18-month-old son that has been awake since 4:30am is taking a nap right now and I really don’t want it cut short. I’m expecting a few more packages this week due to my online retail therapy session last weekend and if you do it again, I might have to dick kick you.
TIA GFY!
Puffy pregnant mother of a toddler
Dear Lady at the Grocery Store,
I know checking yourself out is fun. I also realize there isn’t an actual item count limit for the self checkouts. But really, the signs labeling the self checkouts as “speed zones” ought to let you know that it’s not wildly appropriate to use the self checkout when you have so many groceries that you can’t even fit them all on the bagging scale. I bet the people waiting in line who were stupid enough to think you’d be done sometime this century were even more pleased to note that you then had to bag the whole tower of groceries in your own bags (whereas a regular register they would’ve gladly used your bags yet would’ve managed to do so in an acceptable amount of time).
Boo on you,
Girl who doesn’t have an unlimited amount of time for lunch
Dear Employee,
Please stop telling other employees that I shorted you 3 hours on your paycheck last week.Yes, I did short you 3 hours. That happens when you do not turn in your time card and all I have to get your hours from are the foremen’s job sheets. Was I supposed to use my excellent mental telepathy skills to deduce that you worked 3 hours on your own repairing brick on a house? I’m sorry, I must have missed the section in my job description that includes ESP.
Also, if you fail to turn in your timecard one more time, your check is going to be withheld. You’d think that someone who was laid off all winter would be a little more careful about turning in a timecard.
Thanks
Your clearly imcompentent bookkeepr (AKA, the keeper of the payroll checks, fucker)
The next time you offer to host a party where you are bringing over half the food, you must insist that it be at your house and not an hour away. You have brought such a headache upon yourself it’s unbelievable. Packing the food for transport and nicer stuff to serve it on is a complete pain in the ass. Your car is simply not big enough to carry all this shit.
If the crystal punch bowl (wedding gift) gets broken because it had to leave the house, I will cut a bitch.
And next time, don’t dick around all day thinking you have plenty of time. It’s midnight and you still have to go make a cheese tray. Fucking brilliant.
Don’t bite off more than you can chew,
Project Openletter
I’d like to take a moment of your time to familiarize you with a lovely little thing called a leash law. Simply put, this law requires that when not in your enclosed yard or a dog friendly park, Fluffy must remain on a leash. Yes, I’m talking about YOUR precious Fluffy.
Leash laws were not intended to infringe on your rights or poor Fluffy’s free spirit, but to protect public safety. Just like my right to extend my fist ends at your nose, Fluffy’s right to run amok should stop well before he bites my ankle.
This may come as a shock, but not everyone loves “man’s best friend.” I don’t want Fluffy to barrel me over, sniff my ass or block my path. I could give a fuck if he’s “friendly.” Additionally, I don’t want to see Fluffy get hit by a fucking car just because he wasn’t restrained. Getting your dog killed on account of your own stupidity isn’t good for anyone.
In summary, rein it in and quit being a dipshit!
Go fuck yourself,
Project Openletter
P.S. Pick up Fluffy’s shit while you’re at it, you gross ass pig.
I realize that each and every one of you are wrapped up in your busy lives, but common courtesy suggests that when one is extended an invitation one RSVPs. Common sense would also suggest that you do so, especially when both a phone number and an e-mail address are provided next to a line which reads “RSVP by April 20th.”
To those who have still not replied, your rude asses don’t deserve cake and wine. Poop on you. You could at least have been as creative as the invitees who declined the invitation for various bullshit reasons. After all, I could really give a shit if you don’t come; I simply need to know how much food to make.
Please accept my sincere apology for inconveniencing you by inviting you to a party. I swear I won’t make the same mistake twice.
Sit and spin,
Project Openletter
