Write a letter you would never send (aka "the cath

MEMO

To: Women in my office
From: The girl slowly going postal next to you


Subject: Your fucking shallow existance


Dear Ladies,

Lately I have noticed an increase in useless, vacuous chit chat which increasingly takes up more and more of your day. Talk of your family, of your work, of your weekend, all of which are fine.

However lately I am noticing an increase of talk of television, more specifically shows such as American Idol, The Apprentice, and the Superbowl half-time show. On behalf of 1/4 of the population of this office, I'd just like you to know that you are all annoying as fuck. The more vacant topics you cover, the more I have realized how completely mortal and meaningless your whole existance seems to be. I could be wrong. But I have a feeling I'm not.

Chit chat amongst office workers is a natural occurance and part of a typical working environment, and I accept this. I also am pretty tolerant of the stupidity of others, even though this is often difficult. However, I just want you to know as a point of interest that if you continue to talk about TV, weddings, gardens and ask about my social life, I am going to slip LSD into all of your coffees one of these mornings. Don't fuck with me, I mean it. Then we'll see how you enjoy conversations about the shapes of clouds, the texture of the snow outside, and how half the VPs are actually demons in disguise.

Thanks very much for your attention to this memo, now I look forward to you shutting the fuck up.

more letters....come on guys!

i was goin to write one and then decided you must work where i work so you've done it for me.

Dear fucktards,

As you should be very aware, there are three people separated by cubicle walls in this little corner of the office. That means that when you are talking at the top of your lungs I too can hear you. I can hear you in the hall, I can hear you on the phone, and I can definitely hear you when you're killing time by talking to anyone and everyone just to get to the end of your day.

You are interrupting any shred of concentration I have. Moreover, unless what you are talking about actually pertains to my work, I have little to no concern about anything that dribbles out your pie hole. I don't care about your kids, your lunch plans, last nights episode of ER, or for that matter the project you are working on.

It doesn't concern me. I fix your computer; I install your programs; I keep your email and steady stream of porn flowing; I don't give a shit about you, your life or the burning case of syphilis that's eating away the lining of your brain.

I'm just guessing on the last part, but I assume you can't be a complete idiot, unless your Masters degree really did come out of a Cereal box as I have always suspected.

You have a private office. I do not. You can close your door to distractions. I cannot.

I can, on the other hand, beat three days of shit out of you with a sledgehammer if you don't kindly shut that tooth filled asshole you call your mouth.

Sincerely, fuck you,
Monkey.

Man, I feel soooooo much better.

[Edited on Feb 05, 2004 by scatmonkey]

Talking about super-banal stuff can be fun, though.

Dear Two-Faced Jerko,

I don't want to pretend we're friends anymore. I know how you are and what you've said behind my back, and I am completely fucking done in my associations with you. I don't treat my friends that way, and I don't tolerate when people I've been a good friend to do that to me. Additionally, I'm quite sure everything that falls out of your mouth is either severely exaggerated, or completely contrived from start to finish in order to gain yourself as much attention as you can because you are so desperately seeking validation every minute.

You have the ability to be a good person if you just cut the bullshit and show a little honesty and integrity. You might want to try doing that while you still have a few friends left.

Hmmmm. Maybe I should actually send this one.....

02/04/04

Attn: Mulleted Co-worker Girl

Please stop talking to me in such a cutesy tone of voice. Between the permed mullet and multi-layers of blue mascara, there is nothing cute about you. And I seriously doubt there was even twenty years ago when you were in your prime and on husband 2 out of 13. I could truly care less about your 3 cats, your bouts of chronic diarrhea, or your aversion to all foods containing tomatos.
Also being a person of obvious plumpness, you should not tuck in your shirts and hike your pants towards the equator of your belly. It creates a quite sizeable gooch that even Stevie Wonder could see a mile away. Follow my example and hide the gut as best as possible.
Please, oh please, quit digging in your ass. If whatever it is that may possibly be loged there is not removed within the first half-hour of exploration , I submit to you that is is permanent and not worth further effort. If such behavior is destined to continue, at least do us a favor and continue to hike up on one leg as it increases the comedic effect tenfold.
Lastly quit mentioning your giant boobs to the cool foreign alcoholic guy who comes in every night. So you can say "tits" in spanish. Huzzah for the shopkeep!

P.S. Don't tuck those in either.

Yours Truly,
Psychoholicagogo
02/04/04

Dear cute girl,
I like you. Do you like me? Please circle one

yes

no

Sincerely,
A secret admirer

Dear Girl Scouts,

Please begin selling your cookies year round. As funny as the looks on your face are when I order entire cases of Tagalongs, I begin to go through withdrawals around November.

Stop holding out bitches!

Thankyaveramuch,

Scopitone "The Tagalong Junkie"

Dear IT Support Department:

I sit & lurk on a porn site all day at work, and post messages, and read boards, and look at pictures! Hahahahahahahahaha!

Dear annoying girl who usually is late...

You DO NOT know everything
Please stop thinking you do,
it is getting annoying laughing at you.

thanks!

e

Dear Mom and Family,

FUCK OFF! I am 24 and I could care less what you think, So, I do alot of shit you don't approve of, but you have no right to say anything, you gave me up when I was 14 and now you want to get back in my life.......... NO WAY IN HELL is that going to happen.

Thanks I feel better now.

Dear New York City,

Stop being such pussies.

Love,

The guy who's going to punch you if you don't shut up about your Pilates.

(This doesn't technically count since I actually sent this letter to the mayor)

This is a real letter some guy sent to his boss. funny.

Dear Mr. Pilgrim,

As an employee of an institution of higher education, I have a few very basic expectations. Chief among these is that my direct superiors have an intellect that ranges above the common ground squirrel.

After your consistent and annoying harassment of my co-workers and myself, during the commission of our duties, I can only surmise that you are one of the few true genetic wastes of our time.

Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every little nuance of everything I do each time you happen to stroll into my office is not only a waste of time, but also a waste of precious oxygen.

I was hired, because I know how to network computer systems and you were apparently hired to provide amusement to myself and other employees, who watch you vainly attempt to understand the concept of "cut and paste" - for the hundredth time.

You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly simple as binary still gives you too many options. You will also never understand why people hate you, but I am going to try and explain it to you, even though I am sure this will be just as effective as
telling you what an IP is. Your shiny new iMac has more personality than you ever will. You walk around the building all day, shiftless looking for fault in others. You have a sharp dressed, useless look about you that may have worked for your interview, but now that you actually have responsibility, you pawn it off on overworked staff, hoping their talent will cover for your glaring ineptitude.

In a world of managerial evolution, you are the blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at. Managers like you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle. Seeing as this situation is unlikely to
change without you getting a full frontal lobotomy reversal, I am forced to tender my resignation; however
I have a few parting thoughts.

1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is illegal to give me a bad recommendation. The most you can say to hurt me is: "I prefer not to comment." I will have friends randomly call you over the next couple of years, to keep you honest, because I know you would be unable to do it on your own.

2. I have all the passwords to every account on the system, and I know every password you have used for the last five years. If you decide to get cute, I am going to publish your "favorites list", which I conveniently saved when you made me "back up" your useless files. I do believe that terms like "Lolita" are not usually viewed favorably by the administration.

3. When you bor rowed the digital camera to "take pictures of your mothers birthday", you neglected to mention that you were going to take pictures of yourself in the mirror nude. Then you forgot to erase them like the techno-moron you really are. Suffice it to say I have
never seen such odd acts with a ketchup bottle, but I assure you that those have been copied and kept in safe places pending the authoring of a glowing letter of recommendation. (Try to use a spell checker please.I hate having to correct your mistakes.)

Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of
recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow. One word of this to anybody, and all of your little twisted repugnant obsessions will be open to the public.
Never f*** with your systems administrator. Why? Because they know what you do with all that free time!
Sincerely,

Adrian

dear ladyfreind,

look, we both know you're never gonna do me, so what say we just disavow all knowledge of eachother, eh?? It's for the best.

sincerely
C

[Edited on Feb 05, 2004 by kijima13991]

dear all of you atkins diet idiots,
dr. atkins never meant for you to ingest entire cups of whipping cream so as not to rack up your carbs for the day. carbs are not the enemy, your lack of intelligence is, for if you had truly done your research on the diet, i wouldn't have to tell you how much you're hurting your body.
and furthermore, this is not a lifestyle change, and i hope that you gain back all the weight you lost, tenfold. and then you have to pay for a personal trainer and a nutritionist. have a nice day!
-the trollish barista behind the counter.

To Fatass smelly (yes. I used the term 'smelly', becasue quite frankly, she is.) roommate:

I do not like you. If you have not figured that out by now you are an idiot. Please stop crawling back to the dorm at 3 in the morning when I have been sleeping the past 4 hours. I have to get up at 7 am everyday. I realize you don't have your first class until noon everyday, however, I do not.

When you come into the room and find that I am already in the midst of watching TV or listening to music, please do not turn your music on without headphones. I gladly put my headphones on when you are rockin' out to the greatest love ballads of the 80s or "Because I got High" for the umpteenth time in a row. I ask you do the same. Oh, and please do not sing along to the aforementioned pieces of music when you are clearly tonedef and untalented.

I must ask you to stop turning on all the lights and doing your homework whilst listening to Journey's Greatest Hits at 1 am when I am trying to sleep. Your music fucking sucks, you braindead whore.

You reak. Yes. REAK. Your body splash is a horrid stench from the depths of hell. The evil odors that seep through your closet make rotted fruit on a hot day smell like roses. WASH YOUR CLOTHES!!!

You are a rude, mannerless, tasteless, classless moron. I pity your future mutant children, and the ridicule they will face for having hooves and smelling of fecal matter and spam.

~The Roommate.

No! eating 10 lbs of bacon everyday is far more healthy than a slice of wheat bread! Death to carbs and the evilness of them!!!!

atkins...pfft.

Dear Sir:

For some time I have dreamed of sitting you down and giving you a haircut with an old pair of hockeyskates, and I swear to God and Satan that one day I will make my dream come true. You will die one day, shrieking in terror while feces flies from your horror-stricken ass, and I will be there killing you with all the rage my body dare contain. One day your door will burst open, and there will be heavy footsteps thundering up your stairs. That will be me, hatchet in hand, and when that time comes know this. You fucked with me and you thought to do so with impunity... but now you know the truth, that to fuck with me is to fuck with death itself.

With regards

-MeeMee

Dear Stepmom,

Why is it such a mystery why I don't like you?

Dear Dog,

Stop being bad. Just stop it!

Dear "Best Friend",

Can we just get along today?

Come to think of it, I usually tell everyone everything I am thinking. Cathartic letters for me are useless.

Dear Nextel Customers

Everyone has moments in their lives where they simply stop what they're doing, and ask themselves "Why am I doing this?" I'm writing to tell that it's very much okay and encouraged for you to do this every time you use your phone as a walkie-talkie in a public place. Just stop, and ask why you need to have your conversation about what you're doing tonight broadcast to anyone within earshot (which, I'd like to add, is difficult to do in a noisy mall, yet you somehow succeed every single time).

There is little need for you to have a walkie-talkie option of any sort. You are not in the military. You are not at a business meeting on a conference call. And, I say this with as much respect as I can scrape off the bottom of my shoe, you are probably just as unimportant as the rest of us. I know it sucks to not be special, but you have to learn to deal with it in quiet and inobtrusive manner. The first step is discovering the beauty of a hands-free headset, something that might even have come free with your over-priced source of public annoyance.

If a change is not made soon, we, the normal and mature cellular users, hold no responsibility for our actions. On a particularly harsh offense, lack of common courtesy for your fellow man could result in your Nextel being shoved straight up your asshole. Note: we're not trying to harm you, but actually trying to help you hear your phone a little better since your head is obviously already up there.

Love,
The rest of us.