Random Messages

 Dear boys,

    I know that you don't get what we women feel when we're PMSing, and I understand that you guys don't really know why we're moody or why we eat so much, but please, have a little understanding. At least for yourselves. Because at our "certain time of the month", we're emotionally off-balanced. Meaning: We get madder easily and we punch harder.

    No joke.

    And PMS sucks. I mean, really. I've only started a year ago, but I know that cramps (Oh, bloody hell, the cramps) are like a million stabbing knives in the stomach. Or, for you to understand better, a punch in the dick.


   This is an uncomfortable and awkward matter, I know, but I just had to get that out there. So, treat your ladies right or else you might find your girl chasing you with a pitchfork.


   Just buy her some chocolate.

(Oh, and P.S. if you know anyone by the name of Kyle, tell him to get a move-on in asking me out, okay?)

                                               

Dear parents,

     You want the best for me, I get it. But are chores really necessary? I mean, yeah, you can't do it by yourselves, but... At least don't nag me day and night about it. Because, really, it kind of makes me want to never see you guys again after college. I still love you guys, though!

    Oh, and Mommy, the dresses and skirts that you force upon me are cute and all, but, you do get that they give me a rash, right? And that they make me want to punch everyone that stares at me in the mall, don't you? Well, if you do, then please, just stop it. Really. And don't even get me started about the ballerina flats. Thanks for making me wear one that gave me a bruise, by the way.

 
   And of course, Daddy. Where to start? Dad, when I want to go to my best friend's house and you don't want me to, just give me a plain, "No," instead of a lecture, please? Because it gets annoying and you're starting to sound like grandpa. Seriously. It makes me want to punch you. But I won't! Been there, done that. Also, when I playfully, I repeat, PLAYFULLY  punch you, don't get mad at me because, as I have said before MANY times, it's doesn't mean that I'm rebelling or ready to be on my own or anything else you've said.

    Oh, and I don't have a boyfriend, so don't freak whenever you see me talking to any human males, okay?

                                                 

Dear sixth graders in my school,

    Okay, I know a lot of you are already in a relationship [Lucky bitches] but you don't have to fucking rub it in my face. Or anybody's face. Because it makes us think that y'all are slutty.

   Oh, and speaking of that, to the sixth-grade Hannah Montana wannabes that sneered at me and my friend Frea the other day, stop it. Yeah, sure, you guys look decent and you're parents are probably loaded, that doesn't mean you can look at us like we're pigs just because we were eating hot dogs that day [Because, honey, you guys aren't really that pretty or that thin.]  Oh, and when you guys left, we laughed so hard at you that I think the basketball players that were on the court looked at us. Really.

   And please, don't overuse the pink.

                                                  

Dear Pauline,

     You're my very best friend, and  hope we never grow apart. You're an amazing artist, an amazing friend, and just an amazing person all in all. Don't let anybody change that, especially some stupid boy. You're such a good person, better than me, really. :) I just hope you the best in everything that you do (especially with your new crush, 'cuz, Pau, you might need it...) Oh, and when I get married (you already know who the groom is XP), you are so gonna be my bridesmaid. :]

_________________________

Dear Daddy,
   
     I hope you do well in your new job at I-Remit... Fine, okay, for the next six months you won't get paid, but still... I knew that job interview was going to be your last, you know, unless PAGCOR decides to get the balls to call you. Good luck! And don't forget about my new cellphone...

_________________________

Dear Crush,

     It's been over a month since I've started to like you, but yet,, you still don't get that I like you. A lot. So, why don't you come on over to my desk at school and just ASK ME OUT. Seriously. I know you like me. It's a teensy bit obvious. To me, at least. I mean, I have been the "class crush" (that's what my friends call me... :P) for over seven years now... I'm not kidding! I can detect if someone likes me or my friends a mile away. Sure, it got harder ever since the start of the sixth grade, but still...

     Let me tell you why I like you; you're sweet, nice, funny in a corny-adorable way, very cute, and you have amazing dancing abilities. Oh, and of course, because after I talk to you, I always become a few million times happier... Okay, you kinda can't hear me sometimes because of my "shy voice" that I use in the classroom, but hey, you're still cute!

     Oh, and thanks for helping me get over my old crush. See you at school, Kyle.

_________________________

Dear Omegle pedophiles,

     When I tell you that I'm a twelve-year-old Christian, that does NOT mean that I want to give you naked pictures! Seriously!

     All I'm going to give you is a link of a garden gnome mooning you. And yes, I am looking for a fight, so COME AT ME, BRO!

[The garden gnomes: