Open Letter

To the Blond Ho-bag at the Bar:

STEP OFF. He's either mine or Krista's. Just because you have blond hair and a teeny-tiny waist doesn't mean anything. Because here's what you also have: a beat face, a fake tan, and zero personality. Unless that personality is "whore."

Krista and I may not have blond hair and I certainly don't have a tiny waist, but you know what we do have? Intelligence, talent, wit, and legs that go all the way down to the floor, my dear. I also have (and correct me if I'm wrong) a rack that doesn't quit. Krista's got a wagon she's draggin' that makes straight girls holler. We also both possess a certain amount of self respect.

Which is why -- really -- you need to sit your sorry, wasted ass down. And also, it's why I felt the need to be a bitch and cut in on you and said gentleman. Because the two of you together was making my upchuck reflex hit overdrive. And of course, I was trying to be all up ons. Go find a vapid man to fit your vapid personality.

Bitchily,

8K

P.S. - I firmly believe that the 5 minute conversation he and I had was more stimulating to him than anything you said all night.

Upon reflection this morning, I realized that this letter was less than charitable. Thinking about it and remembering the conversation Krista and I had in the bathroom I came to the realization that the girl (annoying and cock blocking though she was) probably suffers from the same sort of insecurities that I do. So I feel kind of bad having posted this just because I was frustrated and I didn't get my way.