To dear Anna, Meagan and Brenton.

Although I won't tell it to your face, I am so fucking pissed off at the lot of you right now. If it was all going to be so fucking hard why did we come in the first place? Why am I the one that has to tiptoe around and keep all of you from having your little breakdowns but how I'm feeling and what I want to do is completely disregarded? Why did we come to Adelaide to party and then sit at home on a Saturday night? Why didn't we just drive home tonight instead of spending an extra $200 on a hotel room? We left the show at 9.30, we could be in Penola by now, and you'd all be getting your lovely nights sleep in your beds at home ready for tomorrow, when you have to start work at FIVE IN THE EVENING. Instead you've all gone and whinged about how tired you are and how you've got no money, after you went and spent a couple of hundred at the show, and gone to bed.

What a fucking lovely evening out this has been.


...I get that some aspects of your lives suck, I do. I spend all my time being understanding, and mediating, and helping through your problems. But seriously, harden the fuck up.

Your friend, Sara.

To my one and only throat,

You really need to make up your mind. I'm quite alright with you being sore if my voice goes away and then I don't have to go to work but if you're just gunna be sore and let my voice keep working, well, that's no fun.

Regards, Sara.

Dear Quilt,

How about, I go have a shower, and when I come back, you miraculously have sewn your last three seams yourself? Is that cool with you? I'd really appreciate it, I hate joining the last few big bits together.

Thanks, Sara

Dear Ezyreg,

Not only am I forced to give you 143 of my hard earned dollars tonight, I have to remember to have another go at it in an hour's time because you're currently unavailable due to website maintenance.

I hate you.

Sara.

Dear internet,

While I think it's utterly wonderful that you can download me some movies at 790kBps for my sister to watch while she's off on a cruiseship, could you maybe do it at 780kBps, and leave me with enough bandwidth to load a page?

Regards Sara.

P.S. Yes, I do know there is a setting in bittorrent that allows me to cap my combined upload and download speed. I just can't be bothered.

P.P.S. Fine, I'll do it.

Dear fellow users of my toilet,

I understand that smells exist, even though I can't experience them, but surely they can't be worse than doing your business in sub-zero temperatures, which is what it feels like I'm doing when you've left the window in the toilet opened. Brrrr.

Regards, Sara.


*there is no * above, but I wish I could put one below where it says random shit, so I could then put a star that said literally.

Dear a certain facebook (soon to be ex) friend,

No, I will not like your photo for you on facebook. What you're encouraging is not a photography competition, it's a popularity contest. Stop filling my news feed and my inbox with crap.

Regards, Sara