Open Letter to a Bitch

Dear Biatch,


You come here every week and every time you arrive looking like you just stepped in a big... steaming...sweaty....pile. You toss credit cards, ignore friendly overtures, and refuse complimentary wine with the same disdain as if we were trying to sell it to you. All the while bitching about some bitch "go figure" at work who you are so close to telling off because "who does she think she is?"

I just want to know, is your life just a miserable smoldering wreckage? Is it really so awful that you just can't summon up the will to pretend that you like anything?

I mean I get it. Some days I wake up and I'm just so pissed off that I have to go to work and deal with people that are intensely ungrateful, snarky and well people just like you actually. The difference is I don't inflict my bitchiness on you, I may not be your best friend, but I don't roll my eyes and sigh at your every comment. So do me a freaking favor, Take the frigging wine, heck take the whole stinking bottle when its offered, drink up and release the inner raver.

I bet you are one of those people who gets a little tipsy and just lovvvvves everyone and tells people that they are like soooo awesome, and that you want to be friends for like ever. While dancing around like its the love parade in Germany, and you just can't seem to keep your clothes.

Whatever it takes, I don't care just do it. I'm tired of people like you making my life a living hell.

P.S. If you are ever in town again and decide you need to get some. I know a guy, another guest actually, just like you. He may or may not be a woman beater, and may or may not be gay; minor points, almost irrelevant really. Let me know I'll set up a meeting. Kthanxbye.