Dear Newspaper that pays me pittance,
Please let me have a life? Please help me afford the life I want? It only involves a couple martinis and a liposuction.
Did I ask too much?
More than a lot?
You gave me nothing
Now it's, all I got.
Dear Chief Sub-Editor who should totally not be reading this (but invariably will),
Look, it's a love song. Don't dooce me.
Dear Man who directed CS to this blog, all the better to cause its doom and mine,
Are ya happy now?
I have pms.
Dear People who have left me comments on the fat girl post,
I will respond. You know I want to. But I feel bloated now, and not at all phenomenal. I will respond when I have more conviction. :-D
Dear Empowered aunties who show untoward concern for my matrimonial career (and the fact that it never took off),
If you tell me about my designated role as a caregiver one.more.time, I shall ... fart.
Is it really true that men can't be friends with women they're not attracted to? Has every woman who has ever watched When Harry Met Sally asked you this question?
It really is quite intriguing.
Dear Bank Balance,
Where are you?
Dear Friends who have deserted me for other women and weddings,
Whoa? Let's get drunk soon. And dance to "hindi numbers".
I will be your caregiver.
That sounded pathetic. Please stop.