So I joined this community on LiveJournal called "Dear Stupid". The whole point is to write letters to people, groups, animals, inanimate objects, and concepts that annoy you. And I post there all the freaking time; it's a sickness. So how's about you take a look at what I wrote today?

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Dear H:

....................of course your bloody car broke down, you fucking moron! If you wait a year between checking your oil, ignore the Check Engine light, and run it into every goddamn thing on the planet, of course it's going to stop fucking running! And when you blow a tire and keep driving on it, that's bad, you idiot! Of course having your start cord or whatever the fuck dragging on the ground is going to make your car stop working! You dumbass!

And how dare you shriek at your mother and father because you simply can't be bothered to keep up routine maintenance on the car that they gave you? They pay for the car, insurance, and gas, and you can't be bloody assed to make sure it doesn't stall, die, or explode? And then you call them to tell them how it's their fault? And then you expect them to pay the $836 for the parking ticket you received because your car died in a temporary parking zone (which happened to be a contruction zone) and stayed there for THREE DAYS because no one could come get it from the airport? I call fucking bullshit.

And then you have the nerve to ask me to cart your sorry ass to and from school? You live in the middle of fucking nowhere. And it's your own damn fault you don't have anything to drive. You can just sit at school and wait for your father to leave his job early to come and get you.

And if you call me at seven fifteen one more fucking time to ask if I'm up yet and getting ready for school, I will take your shit piece of car and throw it in the fucking lake. With you jammed in the trunk with all the rotting food and crap that's in there. You're not my fucking mother.

SO much rage,
Brooklyn
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Dear University of the Pacific Admissions Office:

Kindly tell me whether or not I can go to your fucking school. You said a two-week admission decision. That was in January. IT IS BLOODY MARCH. What the fuck?

Irritation, but not enough to stop me from going to your school if you accept me,
Brooklyn
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Dear you,

TAKE A FUCKING COMPLIMENT. It pisses me off when I get "yeah right", "whatever", or, oh my fucking god, "if you say so." "If you say so" just makes me want to punch your fucking face. Just let me fucking say nice things about you, okay? Jesus Christ.

So much love and so much frustration,
Brooklyn
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Dear poetic muse:

Shut up! Please!
Begging on my knees!
I'm trying to memorize Shakespeare,
I've only got two days here!
I don't have time for your games
Trying to remember these names.
Don't have any more room in my head,
Need the space for the lines that I've read!
Sixty-eight lines I must learn,
Then I will give you your turn.
But until Tuesday you must rest,
So stop being a fucking pest!

Poetically yours,
Brooklyn