Open letter to Angela Senters

Dearest Ang,

I’ve certainly had my share of pompous assholes, stupid douchebags and imbecilic pricks. But your significant other (ironically fulfilling all aforementioned categories), Angie, certainly is the icing on the cake wreck.

While it may seem significant for your boyfriend  to offer up bullshit in order to seem… well, the smart one in the relationship, please take it for what it is — total and utter bullshit. You’re familiar with that in your little podunk county, right? That really stinky plop of poop that lies lifeless waiting for you to get a big squishy step into it. And no matter how many times you try to rid yourself of the stink, it remains crusted into the tread of your work boots. It lingers. You transfer it to the floor mats of your Ford Truck. You may even track it onto your kitchen linoleum. Angela, the smell gets so bad, you have to throw out your shoes.

I think you get where I’m going with this, Angie — it’s time to throw out the shit-smelling shoe.

I’m talking about your boyfriend, sweetheart.

I’m not certain I can help you find a future suitor directly in Butler County, but I promise one helluva a girls’ night out if you come to Cleveland. Male review at the Powerhouse is strictly optional because, quite frankly, you can get any man to take his clothes off, regardless of admission in our city.

Besides, white sheets are totally six decades ago. Unless there’s a man lying underneath it… with a hole cut where his penis is.
Loves,

Miss Mel

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.