SHADDAP!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and all's right with the world. I even found a pair of pants that not only fit, they look GOOD. Amazing. I'm sure a lot of people (ok, mostly women) loathe the trouser-shopping ritual as much as I do. There is hope, though! I'm living proof that once in a while, when the stars align, you will find Them. The Perfect Trousers. And when you do.....please buy more than one, 'kay?

We're taking off on vacation this weekend, but I'll be checking in from time to time, so if you think I'm (as Tonto puts it) fulla crap, feel free to let'er rip.

You can find the letters here .

1. Oooh....this letter is candy to all of us, isn't it? I know a lot of people would like to think it's fake, but I doubt very much it is? "Why Messy", you ask, "How is this possible? Are recent college grads that mean and ugly?"

Oh, yes they are, kids. Watch and learn.

_________________________________________

Aren't you the specialist special ickle baby-girl! And don't you just deserve a pat on the noggin for being oh-so-very-clever! (That? Oh...just a mallet...No, it's just a rubber mallet, I swear! I was going to use it to....straighten out that picture, yeah, that's it, the picture!)

So you've been out of college for a grand total of a year and you know it ALL. Glad to hear it. Everyone should have a "great job doing promotions" at your age....wait a minute....does that mean that you're the nearly naked chickie that drapes herself over the raffle prizes at seedy shopping malls in the suburbs, trying to sell tickets for the station's pet charity? That was YOU? That was a ROTTEN thing you did to that oversized teddy bear!

Oh, and honey, think "wax", not "shave". Stubble collects, let's just say lint and leave it at that, shall we?

So. You know every aspect of the business and you found out some hot news that might even be a ..... scoop! Yes, that's the word. No really. It is. That big book in the corner is called a "dictionary". Use it. Maybe one of your little friends can help you with it.

SHADDAP!

So let's address your concerns, shall we? To start. The morning show host is not your "colleague". Nor is she a "co-worker". In fact, she's so far above you on the totem pole that if she notices you personally at all, it's not necessarily a good thing. Sort of like attracting the attention of Zeus, as many maidens discovered around the same time they discovered that the good old Olympian had a thing for human-flesh and making babies with them, then dumping them back in their villages.

Let's dismiss that then. You are the front-door mat under her feet. You are unworthy of being her door mat. You are the broom that sweeps the door mat under her feet. You are the dust pan that.... Got it?

Oh, but wait! She's OLD. Damn, what a revelation! Why, she's all of 30-something and she DARES to talk to college students! How could she! That should be a hanging offense! Something Should Be Done.

So, you started your little buddies on the playground chattering about her ancientness and You Made A Decision. Gag gifts at the birthday lunch! How perfect! She invites you to a lunch as an act of kindness, because she KNOWS you lot don't make enough money to foot the bill at Rotten Ronnie's, and you'll get to bitch-slap her around about her AGE!

Then everyone will KNOW HER SECRET and you'll get her job and be rich and famous and get those implants you always wanted and buy all of your friends big presents and take over their lives and never have to work for someone else again and you'll get all the hot guys and everyone will simultaneously worship you and be jealous of you and you can make them believe all the lies you tell because you're just so perfect and anyway you can give them money to shut up about it....... (*Smack* Messy, you gotta chill, woman. I know you're reading Kitty Kelley's "Oprah" right now, but this chickie isn't as smart as Oprah is, and that's going some...)

Aren't you all just so.... special?

SHADDAP! again.

Do you really believe, you vapid slut, that your bosses, don't know this woman's age? Really? They write her checks, you idiot! They have her Social Security Number. They HIRED her for the job. Better yet, she worked hard and EARNED that job! Believe me, infant-bimbo, her (and your) bosses know her age. They don't care, because she's wonderful at her job, which INCLUDES appearances at bars and college campuses.

Oh, and they NEED her. You are just a piece of Lego. A dime a dozen.

What do you think will happen at that birthday lunch? Do you think that you and all of your friends will ante in with your tacky, juvenile gag gifts and she'll just burst into tears and run away, apologizing for daring to deceive YOU - the titty-draped-over-the-Ford-Escort girl? Really, truly?

SHADDAP! yet again.

I'll tell you exactly what will happen. You little morons from whatever the lowest rung on the ladder is will come out with your stupid "gifts" and laugh your little heads off. She'll leave all right. And when you and the morons that listened to you go back to the office, your crap will be piled at the door, and you'll find that suddenly your office looks just like the hallway in the photo does above.

That's right, sugar. Closed doors. Many, many closed doors. And YOUR hallway will stretch as far as the radio and television industries go, because if you think you'll get another job like the one you have now, you are sadly deluded, little girl.

So go ahead. Knock yourself out. It's going to happen sooner or later, so why not now? Maybe you'll still be able to hook up with that football player you dumped for your big media career and convince him to marry you while he takes over his dad's hot dog stand over at the Little League diamond .....

2. Ok. I've seen the aftermath of three really horrendous, gory traffic accidents. That all by itself is upsetting. I had bad dreams for weeks after the last one, and that image is never going to leave me. Seeing human bodies tossed around like dolls and dumped into virtually unrecognizable heaps is nothing I would recommend to anyone, no matter how tough they think they are.

I wasn't on the spot, though, and you were. You got a front row seat to the whole godawful mess ON TOP of having to deal with the aftermath. I wish it weren't so. No one needs that imprinted on their eyelids.

I'm sure you know that this wasn't your fault. Let me repeat....NOTHING you could have done would have stopped this person from dying of stupid. THAT was the real cause of death, and I wish they'd put it into obituaries and on headstones. That girl had the terminal stupids and even if she had avoided the accident she died in, there would have been another with the same results at a later date.

That's a large part of your problem, but the part you dwell on is the asshole that blamed you for driving "too slow". You know that's bullshit, right? There was nothing you could have done. Not without risking someone else's neck - probably your own. Next time you think of this, close your eyes, look that asshole in the face and yell,

SHADDAP!

Then, get yourself to your therapist, tell him/her that whatever it is that you're doing once a week is not helping. Ask for a referral to someone that specializes in PTSD. Because that's what's going on with you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and you CAN get past it. If the therapist recommends some medication, take it. It'll help you finish processing this mess and get past it once and for all.

Make no mistake. You'll never forget what happened. You WILL learn how to put it in it's place - the past - and stop blaming yourself for something you could never have controlled in a million years.

3. Are you related to LW #1? Because I'm hearing echoes of some truly ugly nastiness, here. To recap... you caught your boyfriend's buddy's baby sister and one of your boyfriend's college buddies screwing like crazed weasels on your sofa and making a lot of noise about it after a night of drunken revelry.

That got it?

Then you made disapproving noises, the guy apologized and that should have been the end of your obsession...but no. YOU want revenge! By Gawd, you aren't going to be happy unless someone bleeds for you and you have the perfect plan.....

SHADDAP!

Bitch.

See, and here's the other part of your plan. YOU want to make sure that the girl's big brother - that would be your boyfriend's buddy, all of his friends and all of his family to KNOW that the little sister is a goddamned rotten slut that probably (although you really couldn't tell what with the godawful plaid couch) dripped nasty body fluids all over YOUR precious sofa!

Yeah....that'll show that little skank what's what.

SHADDAP! again.....

Now think hard. I know it's a strain, but try. What do you think will happen if you do this? Let's see...

a) Yes. You WILL humiliate the girl. Which will ...

b) Piss off her brother, all of his friends AND their entire family mightily, so ...

c) THEY will go to your boyfriend with evidence of your psychobitch ways, and ...

d) Your boyfriend, having been thoroughly embarrassed by your behavior himself will...

e) Kick your vindictive ass out of his life so hard you'll be back in your childhood bedroom so fast the you won't even have time to register you're there until your suitcase hits you on the head.

Now, as I said above, think hard sugar. Is sofa-defilement worth all the shit that's going to rain down on your head if you're too stupid to hold back your psychobitch impulses? Are you the kind that gets splashed by a bus and demands the head of the driver on a barbecue platter with some greens and a nice mustard sauce?

I know you'll do it. And there WILL be one positive outcome. You'll be out of your boyfriend's life and he can go find himself a woman instead of a vindictive, rat-faced bitch.

4. You're bored by your husband's hobbies. You even go so far as to ask "(i)s caring about him sufficient reason to just suck it up and feign interest?"

SHADDAP!

YES.

And the fact that you feel the need to ask that question in the first place tells me that you don't love the poor man in the least.

Moron.