To the Trident Café,
I’m aware I didn’t drop a small fortune on your food and drink options, but I was a paying customer, and when I asked if I could use an outlet to just email myself something after the battery in my laptop died, you smirked and gleefully told me no. You will not be getting my “I need to use the Internet so I have to buy some coffee” dollar again.
To Lapels Dry Cleaning,
If you do not find my nice black cashmere sweater within the next few days, I will go in and rain down a vengeance upon you the likes of which you have never felt. After the entire imbroglio with the Whatever’s suit last year and now this, I am not going to bring my dry cleaning anywhere where it goes off the premises because it leads to problems. I took sweaters and skirts to the small Russian drycleaner in Washington Square for three years and never had a problem. With the two big chains I’ve had experience with, both have lost important articles of clothing. You do not want to fuck with me. I love that sweater. I planned to have it for years. It is a staple in my winter wardrobe because it is so warm and basic. That sweater made it to and from Italy without getting lost, and you can’t bring it back from Dedham or something? I WANT IT BACK, YOU WHORES. NOW. Find it.
To the Person Who May Have Gotten my Black Cashmere Sweater In their Order and Didn’t Return It,
If you are so nasty you would steal a poor working professional’s basic black cashmere sweater, I hope you get crotch rot and enjoy the special section on hell where you shall wear leggings of fire and polyester shirts that will melt to your flesh for the rest of eternity.
To the Person Who May Have Gotten my Black Cashmere Sweater In their Order and Will Return It,
May your thighs be smooth, your boobs perky, and your tummy flat for all your days, you wonderful goddess of virtue and truth.
My Firstborn is Yours, To the City of Boston,
Thanks so much for all the sewer work. Not only has it brought me back in touch with nature by bringing the city’s wildlife into my apartment, but it’s also reminding me of how percussion instruments work because whenever a car drives over the metal plates that are loosely affixed to the road it makes a loud crashing sound. Why don’t you just allow construction around-the-clock since it’s just as loud in here right now so the rats can return to their lair in the sewers before they get comfortable in my ceiling for winter?
To the City of Boston,
Begging for mercy,
Dear Feria Hair Dye,
Thanks for the nice dark hair color. It’s a little redder than I’d have liked, but it will work out. However, I wish you didn’t stain my bathroom floor quite so quickly. That shit was on the floor for about two minutes before I wiped it up and it left a very conspicuous stain. Good thing I didn’t pay a security deposit. Next time, I think I’ll stick with Herbal Essences or Hydriance since it’s landed on my floor and not stained it.
It Looks Like Janet Leigh died in there, for fuck’s sake,
Dear Dream Job,
I’m ready. Come and get me.