Dear passive-aggressive teenagers,

You're making me be passive-aggressive.

Even though I hate passive-aggressiveness.

I will barf on you.

-Felicity

Dear sketch-a-licious Wal-Mart and Rite-Aid shoppers,

Yes, I understand that you like my bag. It is a very nice bag, and I agree with you.

It is okay to say "Nice bag" or "Nice purse", but I would sincerely appreciate if you left it at that.

I would not like to have a conversation about my bag. 

Yes, I'm very aware that it looks like a camera. That is why I'm a fan of it.

 Yes, I'm aware that it is a very nice bag.

But I really get very flustered and embarrassed when you continue to talk about my bag, and then turn to the person next to you and talk about my bag with them.

It's UNUSUAL.

Please, stop.

Thank you,

Felicity

Dear bed,

Thank you fro having wheels.

I think that my life would be missing so much hilarity if you didn't have wheels.

Like when I wake up between you and the wall because I somehow moved you while I slept.

Or when Kenzy tries to push you against the wall, but because of your wheels you just bounce back.

And after a while, Kenzy's standing at the foot of my bed, pelvic-thrusting and yelling "I CAN'T WIN!"

Honestly, none of these things would be possible if you didn't have wheels.

However, you totally suck for making my back hurt forever.

I need a stupid form mattress or something.

Or perhaps I should actually use a pillow?

I don't know.

Love and a little hate,

Felicity

Dear neighbors,

Kay, you know what's not cool?

Being loud at 9 am.

You know what's even uncool-er?

Yelling at your neighbors for being loud, but being louder than them in the process.

All I hear, right after waking up, is:

"Keep it down! Keep it down!"

All I can imagine is that there is a person who is surely going to murder me then stuff my body in some small German village's only well. Then, I hear:

"You keep it down! You're being too loud!"

And then I'm pissed. I just thought I was going to be murdered, because of this?! Because of some petty neighbor fight? I was about to pee, out of fear, because no one on the stupid street can shut up?

And I was still scared, because there was a possibility that this would turn into some brawl.

I hate you all, neighbors. All of you.

And an illustration of my 9 am fear, just for the fun of it:

With lots of words I'm not allowed to say,

Felicity

Dear F#m9,

F sharp minor ninth.

You suck.

I hate you, F#m9. And there are very few things I hate.

You are part of the exclusive club of things that I would like to rid from the surface of the Earth.

You, in fact, are the only member.

That's how much you suck.

You are a very ugly chord.
I think that I could actually produce a better sounding chord if I had my cat sit on the keys of my piano.
A toddler wildly slamming his hands on a keyboard sounds better than you.

Every time I hear you, my ears bleed and I'm tempted to rip out my own hair.

 In case you need a visual, here:

You, of course, are the music note floating to the right.

The thing around you is your cloud of evil.

I'm the girl to the left. My ears are projectile squirting blood. And I've ripped out tufts of my hair.

My nose has also disappeared, because it could smell how horrible you sound.

That actually happens whenever I hear you, F#m9. Or whenever someone dares to mention your ugly name.

Which is why I hate you. So much.

With hatred,

Felicity 

Dear Nyan Cat,

Nyanyanyanyanyan.

This website may be the most annoying, yet pleasing thing ever.

Seriously.

Nyanyanyan,

Felicity

Dear person,

You wanted a blog post about you.

Here it is.

You're conceited. You think you are my only friend. The only one who 'helps' me.

Well, truth is, you don't help me. You just hurt me. Over and over and over again.

You think you're the only one that I ever talk about.

That everything negative I say is about you.

Well, truth is, I have plenty of people to complain about. 

And I don't make a habit of wasting my time complaining about you.

Hey, babe, guess what? The world revolves around something, but it's the sun, not your gigantic ego.

You DON'T accept me. You blatantly shove your views down my throat.

I'm done with you.

Thanks for nothing. I'd say thanks for the memories, but they sucked.

Signed,

Felicity