n'est pas

Open letters (or dictations, rather) to people at MJQ, "people" meaning either a certain group of people with specific tendencies, objects assigned anthropomorphic qualities, one specific person, or several specific people- none of whom will be addressed by name, made up or otherwise, except perhaps the objects.

-If you ask me for, oh let's call it ibuprophen, please do not proceed to complain to me about the effects of the ibuprofen unless you suddenly find youself allergic and need me to call an ambulence. I do not want to hear about how annoying you became or how much rest you missed. I know you are trying to place the blame elsewhere, as you do not want to be associated with ibuprofen. I also recognize that as a lack of maturity and will remember it as such. I do not mind sharing, I do mind sharing with whiny-ass little bitches who lack the ability to take some motherfucking responsibility for their actions.

-The text messanger on my phone really needs to stop wanting to get all active around four am. Especially considering I cannot read half of my screen and am really just winging it over on the right side.

-To any number of girls who talked to me, but not all of them: guys do not actually have the multilayered, well thought-out, Bond-villian/Freudian subject-esque motivation for every single thing they do. If it turns out that the guy in question is still in any way relevent in your life ten years from now, you might want to look back and see what went wrong.

-If I do not know you at all and overhear you say "That song has a really good beat!" I will probably not make fun of you. If I do not know you and I see that you are wearing large white socks with your black shoes I will probably not make fun of you. If you do both of these things, oh buddy you are in for being made fun of. By me. Because let's face it, I am so much cooler than you. I mean, you even look as though you might be having fun which is such a loser thing to do. You actually enjoy that postal service song instead of merely singing along pseudoironically? Loser.

-Let's repeat this to ourselves BEFORE leaving the house: Less Product, More Skirt!

-To the person who stole the sink out of the back bathroom: I do not think that was the smartest solution to whatever conundrum caused you to rip a sink out of the most unsanitary bathroom your ass will probably ever see. I hope you realized this before tearing down Ponce on foot, sink overhead, yelling at the top of your lungs "Yeah, you GET the cops- I know that the sink fucking hit me first. YOU HEAR ME? How long have I been coming here? You know me!"

-Yes! Last call was awhile ago! Yes! It happens every night! At a specific time! No! They are not just doing that to specifically deprive you of that fourth beer! But wouldn't it be cool of they were!

-I am pretty sure that, no matter how far into your education you dropped out to join a band, you are aware that there are 24 hours in a day. How about, instead of spending 23.5 of them trying to get that fischerspooner song out of your head, doing a little planning ahead so that the last half hour will not be spent frantically searching/arguing about how to spend those wee after-hours. Personally I enjoy attending company briefings and department meetings, but those are usually planned for me at a little thing called having a grown-up job. Not all of you have such luxuries. DIY, before I slap you all.

-MJQ: Please shake things up a little. You know. Come up with some suprises. I dunno, like slip-n-slides down the enterenceway, giant curly straws in the drinks, the "Godspell" touring company suddenly bursting into a fully-choreographed reinactment of that night's skirmish between whichever two malnourished punk kids decided to get their underage asses kicked out.

Open letter closed- please come again.

I have so much love to give, it hurts. Or something hurts anyways...I need ibuprofen...