Missives II

To the world and my circle of acquaintances at large, on FB.
 T. M. I. Really.

To the scumbag-dick ex of a friend.
 You slut! That's right, slut. You don't get to be called 'player' just because you're a guy. Slut. I'd have loved to tell you to your face that you weren't right for my friend at all, not worthy of her one bit, boring and stuck up as you were. And I would have too, if I weren't keeping mum for her sake. You evidently don't deserve such niceties ... so watch your step. I'm hoping I run into you, and when I do, I'm going to kick you in the nuts and announce to the world that you're a walking std. Whether that's true or not ... although given your proclivities ... the chances are ... I'll leave you to puzzle your tiny brain over that. Oh and I hope you end up marrying someone who's going to cuckold you and humiliate you but never ever give you a way out. I hope you die cold and lonely and miserable. I wish you eternal misery forever after. And if you're 'skills' extend to being able to read, look up 'just desserts.' Because that's what you've got coming to you ... and in all probability, the waitress would have spit in it. Not just because you tried to hit on her while she went about her work but because she saw your behaviour way before you got started with her. Karma ... she's a right bitch and get used to that because you're going to end up as her bitch.

To the salespeople I seem to keep running into.
 If you're going to turn up your nose at me because I want something replaced rather than buying something new, you're going to add a big fat zero the the till. And if I say 'I'll think it over', that isn't your cue to sass me. YOU are the one who needs to meet a target, think your attitude over.

To the guy manning the till.
 The correct response to my "I don't need a bag, thank you" is NOT "The bag's free, yeah?". Some of us try to do our bit for the environment.

To shoemakers the world over.
 You think 'heels' mean something resembling a goddam tower at the end of my feet? Have you ANY idea how hard it is to walk around in those? Do you actually test your products on normal, real women? The ones who have jobs and families and have to walk in these things? This is a conspiracy, I'm onto you. It's just another way or controlling womankind. In parlance you'd actually understand, "Walk in someone's shoes ...". Although in this case they'd be your own.

To Lindt.
 You're doing something very wrong. How is it that I can NEVER find my favourite chocolate in stock?

To me.
 Your twenties are slipping past, time to play catch-up and do all the wild things you'll never regret.