Lloyd, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that you’ve lost another year of your life and are closer to dying than you’ve ever been in your life so far. The fact that you are a douchebag is also some bad news for you.
The good news is that I have written you a birthday message, so you can print it out and stick it to your wall whenever you need to be reminded that great people will deign to speak to you if you manage to date their sister.
And I sent you a present in the post, it is a hamster. That is very good news as it didn’t look promising for a while there, it took me like 20 minutes in the post office to get the friggin thing into one of those large envelopes. I also included a three pack of pencil sharpeners but they’re not part of the present so please send me $3.20. I accept cheque or coins.
While you are stupid for forgetting you are the most followed person on the planet and pashing on with a married man on a bridge, I will refrain from judging you too harshly.
We all make mistakes. A similar thing happened to me recently when I threw my first dinner party and served roast chicken, except they had no chickens left at the supermarket so it was sausages, and being unacquainted with my oven trays, it was served on what turned out to be a bin lid.
Women have to support each other even if one of them is a tramp. That is you. The woman who is the tramp that I was referring to.
If you need some extra warmth on one of the lonely nights to come I am sure you can make a blanket out of money. It would have a nicer rustle than the toilet paper I use.
Yours in support, Kylie from Australia
I would like to file a complaint regarding a recent visit to your ‘beauty salon’. I had bought a spa treatment package as a present for Mother’s Day, but then decided to use it for myself when I found that AutoBarn was also having a Mother’s Day sale and I could get a litre of car oil for her instead. A premium gift.
I was not sure I had the right day spa when I was directed down a dark corridor into a freezing room and told to change into some shorts fit for a fat man, but was determined to reserve my judgement. After ten minutes of standing unattended, I finally received your ‘Full Body Lomi-Lomi Special Massage’, which was unusual given it’s brevity and the inclusion of a temporary tattoo of some garden vegetables.
I was then led back down to reception for the ‘Deluxe Foot Spa’, my ill-fitting Velcro thong sandals flapping wildly, inches of thong trailing in my wake. I was met by a Peters ice-cream tub filled with tepid water and what upon inspection turned out to be a tea bag, which I was later informed also doubled as my complementary beverage.
I sat there in the waiting room in my fat man’s shorts for 40 minutes, freezing and unattended except for one man who mistook the establishment for a brothel (an easy mistake to make I gathered as the receptionist said the brothel didn’t open for another two hours).
I must also question the quality of your beauticians, as my facialist Gary mistook hair removal cream for face mask cream and I now have no eyebrows.
The relevant authorities have been informed of my complaint and you should expect to be inspected by health services within the month. Also I have had my mail forwarded to your address while I am away this week, my neighbour said she wouldn’t tolerate having my Hot Men at Work magazine in her letterbox.
Dude check out my new t-shirt. I fashioned it from that sling that holds your bits.
I wish I had bits but you had them removed.
Broke the bro code in a big way there my friend but at least you left me one appendage. I’m going to use it now to pee in your shoes. Right after I hump the shit out of your pillow.
While I thank you warmly for hanging the sizeable picture over my bed the other day, a slight mishap has occurred. It seems that the Bluetack idea was not as beneficial as you would have had me believe, as it held the painting for the time it took me to get in to bed, and then let it fall onto my face.
While the wall remains pristine, I now have only 4 and a half teeth. And a dented head. Mum says the dent is not noticeable at all when I cover it with hair, but as it is on the front of my face I don’t quite feel that is ideal.
Will you kindly fix the picture, and while you’re at it my fold-out bed- the spring you replaced with a slinky does not appear to have any elasticity at all and as a result the folding-up mechanism is going off willy nilly, mostly when I am in it. This is a problem as I cannot free myself and have to live off old twisties and bits of fluff that have fallen down the back (on the plus side I have found $6.80 in coins so I now have tens of dollars saved towards a new jetpack).
Please bring more than your usual toolbox of a vegemite jar filled with clag and child-sized left hand scissors as you are not ambidextrous or ‘daintily-handed’ and clag is not suitable for an energy boosting snack.
Also the dryer is broken from when you were defrosting that whole chicken on Monday.
I know you are new to couch sitting, and are yet to grasp the general conventions of the activity.
This is not it.
Your wonderfully delightful owner
To whom it may concern (at Ikea),
Recently I went to your store in the hopes of purchasing a new lamp, as my current torch taped to a stick taped to a brick is only lighting a shaft across the bottom left hand corner of my bed and I have moved on from my light taser phase.
I was recommended your wares by a pleasant woman I passed in the street last week who had several Ikea items in her trolley and a ‘Dokument’ waste paper basket on her head. She even threw a small Ikea stool under a passing car, a durability test indeed!
So I set off last Saturday with a big smile on my face and my new Berry Blast Chapstick in my pocket. At first sight your store was a wonderland! So many cupboards to fit inside of and toilets to sit on. Oh happy day! But then the day got less and less happy.
You see I had found a new lamp quite early on and was ready to make my purchase and leave, but alas, the store wouldn’t let me! I traipsed along an endless pathway; lurid piles of coloured cushions collapsing on top of me, coat hangers pulling at me as I tried to tear past, pot plants thwacking me in the face.
By the time I climbed over a severely dehydrated pregnant woman to get to the checkout my shoes had worn through and my feet were bleeding. A man I had used as a human shield in the knobs and handles section had even grown a slight beard! So had his wife but I of course didn’t say anything (just politely pointed out the small price tag dangling from the edge of her moustache and left).
It wasn’t until after I got home and put on my new Reeboks that I realised my Berry Blast Chapstick wasn’t in my pocket! It must have been dislodged during some vigorous hopping.
I will require $3.75 in compensation for the loss of my Chapstick as a direct result of your hazard of a store. I purchased the just mentioned Chapstick for $3.45. The other 30 cents is for inflation, as according to A Current Affair it is going up and that is why we are getting up to 16% less washing liquid per bottle. From the brands we trust, no less.
I will accept cheque or coins.
Yours with chapped lips,