Dear Random Boy in Bar (name unknown):
No, I do NOT want to “sit on your face and let you eat your way into my heart.” Gross.
Love (no way no how),
Alice
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Making the breast of it!
Dear George,
I think it’s sweet that you are such a good friend you are genuinely concerned about my stress level; however, I don’t think a “breast massage” is the most appropriate way to help me. How about a movie night instead?
Love (as a friend),
Andie
I think it’s sweet that you are such a good friend you are genuinely concerned about my stress level; however, I don’t think a “breast massage” is the most appropriate way to help me. How about a movie night instead?
Love (as a friend),
Andie
"ABS"olutely NOT!
Dear Boys,
When the picture you randomly private message me or put on your online dating ad is of just your abs, the only message you are sending me is that you are likely a quadriplegic with no face.
Love (eventually),
Alice
PS - Because you’re taking it in the mirror (because let’s face it, you almost always are)- you should be able to clearly see what I’m seeing behind you. Best to clean your bathroom and/or change your Transformers sheets first before taking your pic!
When the picture you randomly private message me or put on your online dating ad is of just your abs, the only message you are sending me is that you are likely a quadriplegic with no face.
Love (eventually),
Alice
PS - Because you’re taking it in the mirror (because let’s face it, you almost always are)- you should be able to clearly see what I’m seeing behind you. Best to clean your bathroom and/or change your Transformers sheets first before taking your pic!
Extra, Extra, Read All About It!
Dear Brad,
It was nice accidentally running into you yesterday, on a movie set of all places.
I guess you didn’t remember making out with me a year ago.
Our forty-five minute chat while waiting around as extras wasn’t awkward at all.
Totally not what I was expecting when they told me “Lights, Camera, ACTION!”
Love (eventually),
Andie
It was nice accidentally running into you yesterday, on a movie set of all places.
I guess you didn’t remember making out with me a year ago.
Our forty-five minute chat while waiting around as extras wasn’t awkward at all.
Totally not what I was expecting when they told me “Lights, Camera, ACTION!”
Love (eventually),
Andie
An Open Letter
Dear Boys,
I’m sick of you always talking about how much you miss your ex-girlfriend. Sure, she might have been way cooler than me, but I didn’t dump you, so that’s got to count for something.
I’m sick of you making snide comments about how my hair, teeth, clothing, nails, weight et al are under par- yet you are consistently overweight, under shaven, and wearing the first thing you found off your floor that passed the sniff test. Or, you are the opposite and care more about clothing, shoes, and hair than any person alive should.
I’m sick of how you constantly talk about how great your job is or how much money you make, but never take me any place really fancy. I don’t advertise DD boobs and pull out a size A, do I?
I’m sick of those of you who are only looking for sex. In the future, please understand that there are girls out there who give you sex with no strings attached. They are called prostitutes. They have their own title because they make it abundantly clear to you that is what they are for. I do not carry that title. How are you confused by this?
I’m sick of you never wanting to leave your house. I’m sure your Madden Steelers vs. Saints game is pretty intense, and I’m sure it will absolutely make a difference in the upcoming football game—but does it have to be finished at 8pm on Saturday night? What am I supposed to do on date night?
Honestly, I’m quite sick of constantly being single. But above all else, I’m sick of your shit, so I guess that’s the way it’s going to have to be until you shape up.
Love (eventually),
Alice
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