Dear Classless Sucubus.
I realise that your percieved likeness to Britney Spears/Ashley Olson/Nicole Richie makes you delusional as to your obligations to polite society, but alas, it does not. So please, take this opportunity to allow me to help you, help yourself - and observe these brief, though important lessons on social politess. Lest you be hit by a car/golf club/open fist next time I see you.
1. When laying by the pool in your too-small bikini and trucker hat, please do not subject us to your endless, though seemingly incredibly important, cellphone conversations. Though the conversation may appear to be infinately enthralling to you, rest assured that it is anything but to us, and we have no interest in your friends divorce/case of crabs/drunken mistakes. Lower your voice to where it is audible to your caller, and spare us the pain of eyes rolled too many times.
2. I realise that you may have bought your jeans at pee-wee hermans funhouse of mirrors, but please, before you venture into polite society, have your mother/friend/taxi driver assess the rolls/muffin tops/love handles protruding over the sides. If you are a size 6, attempt to purchase a size 6 pair of pants. Please leave size 4s,2s and 0s.. to those who wear them. It is much more flattering for you, and less painful for us.
3.Unless you are a cowgirl, do not spit. Ever. Period.
4.While it is entirely possible that you were raised in a barn/on a sailing ship/on Jerry Springer, there is no reason to demonstrate this by peppering your speech with expletives enough to make Tarantino blush. While a well muttered f-bomb may have it's place occasionally, it is not to be used as a verb, pronoun, adjective or vegetable in everyday society, much less when there are children present. A "mother-trucker"/"fox creek"/"son of a witch" are all facile replacements, and those around you will be spared scorched ears.
Without a doubt, I could proceed endlessly, citing your penchant for entering the pool covered in oil, thereby leaving a classless scum on the surface, or your cow cud like mastication of gum in entirely inappropriate locations (appropriate, of course, limited to the ballpark) and your public intoxication and displays of affection, but given your short skirts/shorter attention span, we will limit ourselves to these brief four suggestions. Please, heed them well. Or be prepared to weather my rage/hate/violence.
Sincerely,
Ms. Poshlust
I realise that your percieved likeness to Britney Spears/Ashley Olson/Nicole Richie makes you delusional as to your obligations to polite society, but alas, it does not. So please, take this opportunity to allow me to help you, help yourself - and observe these brief, though important lessons on social politess. Lest you be hit by a car/golf club/open fist next time I see you.
1. When laying by the pool in your too-small bikini and trucker hat, please do not subject us to your endless, though seemingly incredibly important, cellphone conversations. Though the conversation may appear to be infinately enthralling to you, rest assured that it is anything but to us, and we have no interest in your friends divorce/case of crabs/drunken mistakes. Lower your voice to where it is audible to your caller, and spare us the pain of eyes rolled too many times.
2. I realise that you may have bought your jeans at pee-wee hermans funhouse of mirrors, but please, before you venture into polite society, have your mother/friend/taxi driver assess the rolls/muffin tops/love handles protruding over the sides. If you are a size 6, attempt to purchase a size 6 pair of pants. Please leave size 4s,2s and 0s.. to those who wear them. It is much more flattering for you, and less painful for us.
3.Unless you are a cowgirl, do not spit. Ever. Period.
4.While it is entirely possible that you were raised in a barn/on a sailing ship/on Jerry Springer, there is no reason to demonstrate this by peppering your speech with expletives enough to make Tarantino blush. While a well muttered f-bomb may have it's place occasionally, it is not to be used as a verb, pronoun, adjective or vegetable in everyday society, much less when there are children present. A "mother-trucker"/"fox creek"/"son of a witch" are all facile replacements, and those around you will be spared scorched ears.
Without a doubt, I could proceed endlessly, citing your penchant for entering the pool covered in oil, thereby leaving a classless scum on the surface, or your cow cud like mastication of gum in entirely inappropriate locations (appropriate, of course, limited to the ballpark) and your public intoxication and displays of affection, but given your short skirts/shorter attention span, we will limit ourselves to these brief four suggestions. Please, heed them well. Or be prepared to weather my rage/hate/violence.
Sincerely,
Ms. Poshlust
2 comments:
I love it, I agree, and if only the girls this is aimed at were self-aware enough to know you are referring to them!
Uhm.. I would recommend that you stay far, far away from Ottawa.
And I hope you know that I'm not talking about me. :P
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