Dear Evil Red-Headed Berta Lou, Bald Mean Looking Ex-Marine Cop Who Isn't Really Mean and Pocket Sized Incredibly Handsome But Totally Knows It Cop,
I regret to inform you that your collective services as friends of the OCD Chick will no longer be needed. (I have not been receiving the massive amounts of attention I require on a regular basis and so now must publicly force you to love me whether you want to or not.)
I assure you that it is not without much consideration and personal struggle (tequila) that I have made this choice, so it is my sincere hope that you respect and accept it and move on with your lives. (Get together over coffee and come up with a grand gesture that will prove your insane love for me. Something involving a sacrifice would be nice.)
Because each of you has been behaving as if there is anything on Earth more important than me, (There isn't. I checked), I have been left painfully and utterly alone. (Mr. Man goes to bed early.)
Without your guidance (drunken dares) and genuine desire to see me succeed(see my boobies), I have recently made some shall we say, unfortunate life choices. (I may or may not have hit on a guy with giant glasses and an unknown black substance underneath his fingernails that I pray to God was grease.)
It is because of my deep love (unnatural in every way) and profound respect (unhealthy obsession) for each of you that I have found my life without you to be meaningless (boring) and without purpose. (I'm not even gonna kid you. That last line was straight bull shit.)
Since you've been gone (bitch ripped me off), I have struggled (fell down a lot because you know how clumsy I am) to fill the gaping hole (from having my gall bladder removed) that once held my abiding love for you. (If I were a guy and you were a three headed girl and we were in a bar, you'd totally be going home with me after a line like that.)
Day after day, hour after hour (like five or ten minutes), I spent wrapped in the misery of missing you. (And/or hitting on ugly men for reasons still not clear to even me.) It is only because of my faith (in cocktails) that I was able to reach the point of being able to finally let you go. (I never let anyone go. You know that.)
I wish each of you well (as in I hope you fall in one if you don't pay way more attention to me) and pray that you'll always think of me fondly. (That was fondly. Not fondling. Completely different meanings.)
As for me (me, me, me... it is of course always about me), I am looking to the future (so many husbands, so little time) with great anticipation (like the ketchup and the song), an open heart (which can be drafty) and the firm (like my ass) belief that I will someday (probably tomorrow) find friendship (people who like me even after they've known me more than a minute) and love (inappropriate touching) again.
My Warmest Regards (to Broadway),
Sher (Queen, Ruler, Omnipresent, Omniotherbigstuff, etc, etc.)
Only slightly less than dramatic than me is this song. Loving it awful.
Copyright © 2004-2007, Sherri Bailey
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