This is the thread where we write open letters to strangers who have annoyed us

You almost killed me, and then you had the nerve to sneer at me and curl your lip. I just bought a butterfly knife, and while I'm a committed pacificist and was raised Quaker and would never actually use it on you, I have to admit that I did go home and pratice a lot of Double Flip Windmills and Backhand flips with it while thinking about you.

Love,
transmission fluid,
and me,
Jeremy.

It's not that I mind so much that you drive a Hummer, after all, your gas bill is payback enough. What I do object to, however, and object to strenuously, is your apparent need to drive in all 4 lanes of traffic at once while I happen to be occupying one of them in my little black car. For all I know, you could have been tired, drunk or maybe your girlfriend (or boyfriend, let's not leave anyone out) could have been engaging in a little on-the-road lovin'. Your reasons, dear fucktard, are certainly your own, and I respect that. HOWEVER, when I am trying to change lanes to avoid your stupid ass, I would certainly appreciate it if, in future, we end up in this situation together again, if you wouldn't change lanes behind me, move over into the breakdown lane, speed past me (I was trying to take that exit, you motherfucker), cut me off to get back in fromt of me while honking your ridiculous horn and flashing your fucking high beams (did I mention there were THREE OPEN LANES TO THE LEFT, YOU DICKLESS WONDER - oh yeah, I went there - ever heard the term 'overcompensation', sport?), lean out your window to call me a stupid bitch, and then speed away, no doubt cackling to yourself and the unfortunate creature who happened to be in the car with you.

Only if it's not too much to ask, of course.

Love, Luna.

You called in. I gave you my name, answered your questions, and priced out a system that you could afford. You took notes and thanked me for taking the time to explain a few things to you.

So was it really necessary for you to come into the store and have the
exact same conversation with me in person?

You breathed my air for a full hour with your fretting and nattering, the end result being that I got bumped in the lunch break order and didn't get to eat until almost closing time. I was hungry when you came in - I couldn't see straight by the time I actually got some food in me. The least you could have done was actually bought the damn items, but I guess that's just wishful thinking.

Thanks but no thanks,

Tantrum

While I'm glad that you have invested in a downtown that needs some investing, and I'm thrilled that you are providing coffee and pastries mere steps away from my door, it cannot be overlooked that your coffee is awful, your pastries subpar at best, and the service downright pokey. Yet I keep patronizing you because you are so close, and I admit, the fault is partly mine. However, I would like to implore you to hurry the fuck up with that nasty-ass coffee already.

Thanks,
teeny

That's the third time this year you've fucked me out of the extra order of pepperoncinis. Could you teach me how you do that?

Admiringly,
Rock

Concerning your actions of the whatever the date was two days ago of September 2004, I would like to offer my sincerest thanks. As a 22 year old who can't frigging walk without the aid of two perfectly visible sticks and takes roughly an entire 5 seconds more to cross the road than others of my age, I appreciate any help I can get. At first, the sound of your horn honking didn't make much difference, but thanks to your perseverance by the 6th or 7th honk I suddenly realised that maybe I should be walking properly like an able bodied person would, you know, seeing as the bloke in the car wants me to. I'm sorry I wasted 4 or 5 seconds of your life by not realising this earlier. I know you must have hard a hard day, what with your left indicator apprently getting broken at some point before you turned into the road I was crossing. Also, thank you for shouting "fat cunt" at me as you sped off. I'd often wondered why the size 8 clothes I'd been buying didn't fit as well as the size 16 ones, and by shouting that, you gave the the idea of looking slightly downwards and, lo, you were right, I am fat. If it hadn't been for you, I may have never noticed this. I think I might have to take up jogging or something.

Yours faithfully.
Fat Cunt.

I won't work at this restaurant forever, when my loyalty to the owner is no longer a factor, I'm going to hunt you down.

Love and hugs

Matt

It all might actually be interesting if everything you asked or stated was relevant, well thought out or the very least bit intelligent. As it is, I spent all of last class looking out the window at ducks swimming around outside and writing terrible jokes about imprisoning and maiming all of you. Then I drew the ducks in my notebook.

Fuck you all,

Chris

PS To the fucking solipsist in the corner - You're a fucking asshole in my Psych class too. STOP LIVING.

Have you never heard of a special offer before? "Buy 8 cans for £6" means that if you pay £6 you get 8 cans as part of a special offer. It does not mean you can buy 4 cans for £3. Yes, I know that would've been a good deal, but it's not the deal. 8 cans - £6. That's the offer. Idiot.

We have so, so many of your names, addresses and phone numbers in the computer for our "Savings Club." Watch it.

Love,
Strongo

holy shit. this was one of the most irritating things when i worked in a music store (that says a lot). it would always happen during peak busy hours, and i would be faced with a growing line of glaring, restive customers as i struggled to open some idiot's purchases. my only revenge was to yell "I'M SORRY BUT THIS CUSTOMER ASKED ME TO OPEN HER CDS FOR HER" at the panicking manager who would come over to see what the problem was. at that point the line's murderous rage usually shifted from me to their fellow consumer.

If you STAND at the top of the stairs, then no one on the lower deck can get up and no one on the upper deck can GET DOWN when it is their stop, meaning that you will never get a seat.

So GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY.

Thank you.

Thank you for staring at us like a stoned guppy this morning while we moved 2,000 books up three flights of stairs like the slaves that built the pyramids. As opposed to, like, saying THANK YOU or something. Or even offering to help. It was greatly appreciated.

MDC

keep up the good work! Strangers that annoy us are the very lifeblood.

If, however, desperation (through the lack of alternatives that a small town sometimes presents) drives me to purchase anything from your establishment again, I certainly will not allow you to interrupt me constantly as I am giving you pertinent information as to my paint requirements. Hopefully that will assist us both in getting our work done right the first time.

*Please do not collect at 2 AM, backing into our alleyway of a road, with all your bells, whistles and THIS VEEEE-HICKLE IS REEE-VERRR-SING gubbins while travelling backwards at 30 mph. It wakes us up. If you come earlier, and you see people enjoying their pints outside, please do not back into the road at the same high speed or you will find yourself one man down. I mean it.

Cheers,
-----------

Dear Officious Camden Council Operative,

In your bossy, badly-written correspondence sent to all people resident in my block, you write as if you're the one paying the council tax, not us. How did you arrive at this delusion?

Ta,
Moi.

x0x0x

The reason your home PC has porn popups, is that YOU DID IT, YOU, YOU FUCKING BRAINLESS MORON YOU CLICKED ON THE ATTACHMENT/INSTALLED BONZI BUDDY ETC. NO-ONE ELSE, NOT GOD, NOT MYRA HINDLEY, NOT BIN LADEN, YOU, LITTLE OLD YOU, TAKE SOME FUCKING PERSONAL RESPONSIBLITY FOR YOUR EQUIPMENT FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE.

Thanks,

Jim.

Dear everyone,

GO AWAY.

Love,

Jim.

In the future, I would prefer you NOT put the eggs at the bottom of the bag, where they are easily crushed by the CANs and JARs you put in on TOP OF THEM. And please, brush your teeth sometime this millenium, MOUTHBREATHER.

Sincerely,

Nick, Loyal Kr0g3r customer

You're unwanted in these parts. Go away. Last time one of your cousins was here, he wrecked the place. Just what exactly is your job, anyway?

fucker.

Go to hell-
-Dave

What part of "I am not interested" do you not understand? I am hanging up now.

I can't believe they called me at work,

Nick

I'd just like to take a moment to thank you for the way you sped your piece of shit van up to ludicrous speed as soon as you saw me walking across the street in front of you. If not for the way you threateningly accelerated up the street towards me, no doubt intending to run my crossing-the-road-where-and-when-it-was-supposed to carcass into the asphault so as to prove a point about whatever, I might have made it across the road in a slightly smaller amount of time. So...thanks.

Yours truly,

Nick

Why is it that when you're driving do you do the things which most annoy you about other drivers? Sure, you have a set of rules that keep you just about legal, but really, do you HAVE to try and squeeze past other motorists because you know your car's crappy and they'll back off first? If someone manages to get past you because you drove too slowly, or didn't notice the lights, is that really an excuse to try and get immediate revenge? And why don't you move out of the fast lane if someone's up your arse, even if you're going 10mph above the speed limit and are actually helping *them* stay alive? And does flashing them/giving them the finger as they zoom past really necessary?

Yours,
Mark

I understand that you want to look pretty, I like having long nails myself, but in future, it might behoove you (and certainly it would benefit others) if you either keep your nails fairly short, or perhaps wear gloves while you work, so that I don't end up WITH A HALF INCH LONG FINGERNAIL IN MY GODDAMNED MUFFIN.

Thanks a lot.

Luna

While I realize that I am, in fact, a foreign woman, which no doubt makes me inherently sexually promiscuous in your eyes, I would really appreciate it if I could walk down the main street to my apartment without a male friend and not receive leering glances from you and your buddies, salacious questions in a language I barely understand, or cars pulling up to the sidewalk and inviting me to get in.

I'm a teacher, not an Eastern European whore. Those girls are one block over and you know it.

Also, I would further appreciate it if no one would grab my ass when I am holding a door for an old woman at the local convenience store, or try to pull me into their car at 4 o clock in the morning when I am drunk.

Cut this shit out, you bastards, or I swear to God I will punch you in the face.

Sincerely,
Laura

Hi, how are you? Better than I was when you ran that red light and almost hit two cars; my mom's and that guy next to us. What were you thinking? Were you late for something? Did you have to go to the bathroom? Were you running from the cops? What was it? Did you really have to run that red light? All I wanted was to go to Guitar Center and get a new tuner because I lost the other one two months ago and my guitar sounded like crap. Lucky for you I made it in time to buy one, the store was about to close in ten minutes, and I recorded a song today with my guitar in tune. Yet, I'm sure if I had been just like you, I would have made it fifteen minutes before the store closed, but that's my problem.

Hopping you will die in a car accident, or at least get a ticket for speeding,

Aja

thank you for the first four books of the dark tower series.

nuff said.

darragh.mac, having just read the seventh and final installment

Ewww. Grosss. Go use a gas station restroom!

Trying not to look,
Aja

I'm sorry the only pleasure in your day is telling me I have to wait a whole fucking week for the copies I need for work that I know for a fact take only five minutes to make thanks to staple removers and automatic document feeder xerox machines, but it's your fucking job to give public information to the public -- and besides I'm sorry you're "so busy" but you have it really good because you almost never have to work more than eight hours and you have a cushy government job with excellent benefits, and all you ever do anyway is waste time chatting about your next vacation or your last vacation, so just MAKE THE FUCKING COPIES!!!

Sincerely,
Laura

Next time, DO punch them in the face.

You guys really put a lot of work into that version of "I Believe In A Thing Called Love," I can tell. I'm impressed by your singer's creative interpretation of melody. But once in an evening was enough.

You guys really put a lot of work into that version of "I Believe In A Thing Called Love," I can tell. I'm impressed by your singer's creative interpretation of melody. But once in an evening was enough.

*Cringe*

I mean, I like that song as much as anyone (hell, I bought the damn album), but a bad cover version just seems like sheer torture to me.

OK so first I was mainly annoyed by the three dudes standing behind us, who were totally emo-ed out with their black-framed glasses and tight t-shirts and short haircuts, who were really REALLY pumped about the bands but for some reason talked really loud the entire time they were playing, and then between bands talked loudly about a show you had seen in Omaha five years ago where, like, ALL the Saddle Creek bands played and Conor was fucked up and jumped on a table, man! But then, fortunately for you, my attention was shifted to THE MOST ANNOYING PERSON EVER IN THE WORLD, dubbed "Courtney Jr." by Sarah. This letter is to you, very drunk girl. We were all impressed that you knew all the lyrics to all the Rilo Kiley songs. However, this was tempered by the fact that you sang all of them at the top of your voice, making soulful Natalie Imbruglia-esque facial expressions, singing them directly into the face of your very inebriated frat boy boyfriend while clutching onto his shoulder, while he tried to ignore you and stare drunkenly at the band instead. We were also somewhat less than appreciative of: 1. The high-pitched piercing whistles you let out during any 3-second period where you weren't singing along; 2. When you kept yelling "JEN YOU ARE A SEXY BITCH, YOU ARE SO SEXY, YOU BITCH!" at the lead singer, then turning to your boyfriend and yelling "YOU THINK SHE'S HOT, DON'T YOU? YOU'VE GOT THE HOTS FOR HER!" at which your boyfriend grinned boozily; 3. When you started massaging the shoulders of the EMBARRASSED DORKY GUY WHO YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW standing in front you, saying "Oh, you like that, don't you?" and then when your boyfriend said "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" you said "He just looked like he needed some...cooling down."
Admittedly, you made the show more entertaining in some ways, but all the same, I hope your liver fails.
love,
n/a

HA HA OH NO xpost!

uh.. what did you think you'd find at a rilo kiley show?

okay here's one for the thread

Dear Vietnam Veteran in a Blue Pickup Truck,

While I honor your (possible) fine service to this (occassionally) great country, I do not think that that gives you the right to tool around the east side in your skanky truck with the (outdated and misguided) "Boycott Jane Fonda, American Traitor Bitch" bumper sticker. You not only look like an asshole, you are going to get your truck fucked up by not obeying lane divisions. You are god damned right that I wouldn't let you back into the right lane of traffic on Northport Drive; you know it narrows down to one lane and you tried to sneak through in the left lane and you made your bed now lie in it sucka, I hope you're still sitting there with your blinker on.

Sincerely,

Me.

Wash that shit.

Love,
Chris

Er, please don't put that in the 'ilx out of context' thread.

The queue is a system that has operated with some success for quite a long time. When a taxi comes you don't break out of your position in the QUEUE to wave your hands like a fucking spastic just so you can get home before everybody else.

If i had had my emergency hammer then it would have been a different story.

Love, Hari

P.S your wife is probably cheating on you.

When I am carrying an armful of plates past your ample frame do not start waving your arms and loudly demanding pepper, it is physically impossible. Ask me politely. I'll be back shortly.

Thanks

Matt

P.S. Your wife is probably cheating on you, too

who would i adress that letter to?

I know that you most likely have some sort of "problem," and I am not trying to be insensitive, but I hate you. Around 8 AM every morning, you go through an elaborate ritual of locking your door, and then yanking on it till the bolt catches against the doorframe. OVER AND OVER AND OVER. While I am trying to fucking sleep.

Listen: It was locked the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh AND twelfth time you checked it.

Just so there is no confusion when you get halfway down the hall and decide to turn back (as you often do) for another round of door whacking, let me reiterate: IT IS FUCKING LOCKED.

Sincerely and irately yours,

Laura

I said I want you to cancel my fucking services you fuckwits. Which part don't you understand? You are a bunch of incompetents, that is why I cancelled your services & now you cannot even cancel my service.
Arseholes. Perhaps you will return my calls when you realise that my direct debit has been cancelled.

PinXor

Also, did you really just say "if you had a degree in IT you'd listen to me"? Cockfarmer.

(the guy was becoming very pushy - the day before he'd called and said that he was going to call back in an hour with a contract for us all ready to sign, and if we decided at that point that we didn't want it he'd be very annoyed. When he phoned back the next day and was told that we weren't interested, and neither was our department manager, he said "clearly you haven't explained my offer very well to your manager. Can you put me through to him, please?" )

DEAR TOTAL F*CKING IDIOT WHO SOMEHOW MANAGED TO GET PROMOTED TO MARKETING MANAGER AND THINKS SHE IS MY BOSS:

The reason that I haven't sent out the reports yet is because you ASKED ME to hold back the reports until the sales team made more sales. So don't come in every half hour - EVEN WHEN I'M ON LUNCH - and ask me what my progress is. I HAVEN'T SENT OUT THE REPORTS BECAUSE YOU ASKED ME TO HOLD THEM BACK.

Plus, the reason we're not making any sales is because you aren't doing your bloody job.

And another thing - I will leave pissy notes on my board so long as people continue to go through my personal belongings when I'm not here.

If you want to know what my progress is, I am now spending the rest of the day searching the internet for a new job.

Thanks,
Kate

I don't know you. You are a friend of the guy whose house I am crashing at in Asheville, NC, and thus I am somewhat obliged to give you a ride to afforementioned guy's house. You are drunk as piss, loud, and smell very very bad. But this is all easily forgiveable. However, when you're riding in MY CAR, you listen to whatever music I want to listen to. Even if I knew and/or liked you, for you to say "turn this shit off" re: Dizzee Rascal and then proceed to offer a Sound fucking Tribe goddamn Sector 9 bland hippy techno concert bootleg from the same tiny venue we just left is just beyond the boundaries of retarded. YOU PEOPLE ARE GOING TO RESPECT ME IF IT KILLS YOU.

Sincerely,

not ever going to give you a ride anywhere ever again

I know you're terribly important and that getting places five seconds faster than the rest of the world is what you live for, but I refuse, especially when I have my son in the car, to run red lights just because you need to get your grande non fat two extra shots latte two seconds before anyone else does. Generally speaking, when you're following another car and its brake lights come on 100 yards BEFORE THE INTERSECTION YOU ARE APPROACHING, it means that the person in front of you is SLOWING DOWN AND/OR STOPPING ESPECIALLY WHEN THE INTERSECTION YOU ARE APPROACHING HAS A TRAFFIC LIGHT WOT HAS TURNED YELLOW OR RED, YOU FUCKING MENTALIST CUNT. When this happens, YOUR role in this little game is to ALSO apply pressure to your brake pedal in time to slow down and stop safely. You should not, however, wait until the last second and screech to a screaming halt inches behind the bumper that has come to a stop in front of you, lean on your horn and yell obscenities at the person driving said vehicle. What it does NOT mean is that the person piloting the motor vehicle in front of you is going to gun the engine at the last minute and scream through the light, laughing and flipping off passersby.

You may not have realized, gentle motorist, that I had my son in the car. You may also not have realized that my son is about the most important thing in the world to me. It's possible even that you also didn't realize that had you actually rear ended my car due to your immense jackassery and had injured my son in the slightest, I would have gotten out and beaten your head in with the baseball bat that's in the back of my car. Now you know.

Dear sir, in taking note of what kind of car you drive, and also of your personalized license plate, I made a realization of my own. I realized that you're the fucktard that lives down the block from me whose car alarm goes off all the time and who takes up three parking spaces in a neighborhood where parking is very limited, causing the rest of us to park blocks away from where we live. We all hate you. You gave me another reason to hate you this morning.

In closing, I would like to say back the fuck off, you festering boil on the ass of humanity. I may throw like a girl, but I swing a mean baseball bat. You have been warned.

Love & kisses,

Luna

Yours,

jel

xpost

wow, that's probably the company I work for!!

I apologise profusely.

Please stop using the bar of handsoap I put by the sink to wash your body in the shower. It's disgusting for a number of reasons, but especially since one time a few years ago you told me that you think people need to be more concerned with anal cleanliness, and advocated thorough washing inside the asscrack.

Love,

Dirty Remy.

I'm writing this letter to you because you somehow didn't annoy me this morning, which is surprising, given your profession. You asked me if I wanted a vacation package to Branson, Missouri, and I said no. You asked why, and I answered because I was under the age of fifty. You laughed a hearty laugh, and I got my in's and said Look, I don't buy anything from telephone solicitors. You were still giggling when you said, That's okay, Sweetie, have a nice day. You weren't mean at all. And, had you not woke me up, I would've been late for work.

So, thanks. We got through an awkward situation together without hating mankind after it was all said and done! And you called me Sweetie!

Sincerely,
Pleasant Pains.

I apologise profusely.

We've been approached by at least 10 different companies in the past month offering us cheaper phone contracts, either fixed-line or mobile. Only one, though, has been so pushy that they were actually told to piss off.

I can't really complain when you're scraping and tapping things in our mutual wall during the day. I can't even really complain when your hammering wakes me up at 8 a.m. Because I know that the sun is already up, and the work day begins for many people at that hour, and I have the luxury of sleeping a little later. Even though I am never able to sleep through the tile removal or wallpaper scraping or baseboard affixing that you seem to be constantly doing.

But when I get home in the evening, and am sitting in front of my TV eating carrots and feeling tired, and it's after seven o'clock at night and DARK for fuck's sake, and not only are you still at work, you are sawing something with a circular saw, and have been for over an hour, right outside my front door, so that I can't hear the fucking TV even though I'm at the other side of the goddamn house and have the volume cranked, you know that's just too late for you to be working. I mean, really. You've even got the flat's front door open, just so you can see what you're sawing. Shut up, clock off and go home already.

See you tomorrow bright and early!!!

sgs

When standing on a crowded (or indeed any other kind of) bus, it is customary and advisable to take a firm grip on one of the railings provided for this purpose, so that, if you are wearing stupid spiky boots with stiletto heels, you will not careen across the aisle at high speed when the bus brakes and crunch one of your feet, clad in the aforesaid boots, heavily onto my ankle. You evil witch.

Yeah, I know we were all cranky from that bloody traffic queue. But would it REALLY have killed you to let us in to your lane?

Was it REALLY worth the extra 10 feet it gained you to nearly run us off the road? I mean, you were going so slowly we passed you in about 30 seconds as soon as we were clear of the constriction.

You're lucky there wasn't a HOWS MY DRIVING sticker on the back of your truck. In fact, you're lucky you didn't smash into us.

FuX0r.

the only times my letters to the irish times get printed it's because i've zinged g@briel r0senst0ck and i'm getting worried about a gaeilgeoiri feud