[Miscellany]
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
This show was brought to you by letter...
Dear Red Ferrari driver who sped off in a roar from corner of Wellington and Alexandra Parade on Sunday afternoon,
Sorry to hear about your penis.
Love,
Girl who laughs at men who drive sports cars.
Dear little Prep girl in my class yesterday,
No, food dye isn't "something that kills food" but you saying that totally made my day.
Love,
Laughing Teacher.
Dear Hay Fever inducing thingies in the air.
FUCK.
YOU.
!
Love,
Sneezy McSneeze.
Dear Prin,
When you come into the Art Room saying nice things I know you want to borrow something. That's okay but last time I had to break into your office and steal back my staple gun using stealth methods. Please return the good wire cutters soon... or else.
Love,
Employee.
Dear People at Big Brother,
So you have given host Gretel the boot. Who you really should be giving the boot are the selection panel. Here's a tip - next year, no promo models, no breast implants, no ocker speaking metrosexual truckies (is it supposed to surprise us that he's in a macho profession but looks after his hair? pfft), no one with an IQ under 100, someone of a race OTHER than having an ancestry of colonial British settlers or Euro back 3 generations - in fact MORE than one token Euro would be nice. Please block any body who wants to pose for a men's magazine in the near future. If they want to do porn they should leak a sex video of themselves onto the internets just like everybody else.
Love,
Viewer.
Dear Teacher at School who has found the man of her dreams,
You look so happy that it makes me happy, even though we are not exactly friends.
It's lovely when you hear romantic stories that are not in a Mills and Boon.
Love,
M.
Dear Grade 6 class in the room next to mine,
I've seen you tearing up and down the corridors this last week. You're shouting, you're counting down to the bell at the top of your lungs and generally acting like dickheads.
I'm not looking forward to teaching art to you tomorrow. I might end up shanking one of you in the back if you're not careful.
That wouldn't be good for my criminal record.
Love,
Not Amused.
Dear Bro,
I'm sorry you had to sit though my photography class the other day. Everyone else said they were bringing a model to class... Everyone else apparently lied. I realise I owe you BIG TIME. Now, I'm a little worried about what you'll make ME do in return.
Love,
Sis.
Dear New Art Teacher,
I'm thinking about next year and not being there. I'm thinking about how much work I've put into organising the shelves and all the cool new stuff I've bought. It kind of KILLS me to give it up to you even though I know you'll do a fabulous job.
Love,
Thinking
Sorry to hear about your penis.
Love,
Girl who laughs at men who drive sports cars.
Dear little Prep girl in my class yesterday,
No, food dye isn't "something that kills food" but you saying that totally made my day.
Love,
Laughing Teacher.
Dear Hay Fever inducing thingies in the air.
FUCK.
YOU.
!
Love,
Sneezy McSneeze.
Dear Prin,
When you come into the Art Room saying nice things I know you want to borrow something. That's okay but last time I had to break into your office and steal back my staple gun using stealth methods. Please return the good wire cutters soon... or else.
Love,
Employee.
Dear People at Big Brother,
So you have given host Gretel the boot. Who you really should be giving the boot are the selection panel. Here's a tip - next year, no promo models, no breast implants, no ocker speaking metrosexual truckies (is it supposed to surprise us that he's in a macho profession but looks after his hair? pfft), no one with an IQ under 100, someone of a race OTHER than having an ancestry of colonial British settlers or Euro back 3 generations - in fact MORE than one token Euro would be nice. Please block any body who wants to pose for a men's magazine in the near future. If they want to do porn they should leak a sex video of themselves onto the internets just like everybody else.
Love,
Viewer.
Dear Teacher at School who has found the man of her dreams,
You look so happy that it makes me happy, even though we are not exactly friends.
It's lovely when you hear romantic stories that are not in a Mills and Boon.
Love,
M.
Dear Grade 6 class in the room next to mine,
I've seen you tearing up and down the corridors this last week. You're shouting, you're counting down to the bell at the top of your lungs and generally acting like dickheads.
I'm not looking forward to teaching art to you tomorrow. I might end up shanking one of you in the back if you're not careful.
That wouldn't be good for my criminal record.
Love,
Not Amused.
Dear Bro,
I'm sorry you had to sit though my photography class the other day. Everyone else said they were bringing a model to class... Everyone else apparently lied. I realise I owe you BIG TIME. Now, I'm a little worried about what you'll make ME do in return.
Love,
Sis.
Dear New Art Teacher,
I'm thinking about next year and not being there. I'm thinking about how much work I've put into organising the shelves and all the cool new stuff I've bought. It kind of KILLS me to give it up to you even though I know you'll do a fabulous job.
Love,
Thinking
Labels: dumb entry, letters
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