Notes from the Edge of Reason

She's driving me nuts. I need help.

Dear Diet Coke,
You're killing me.
Painfully yours,
Lani's Kidneys.

Dear Racy Lacy Sexy Lingerie from 'Deliciously Exciting Lani's drawer,
We really miss you. All this life-sucking control top, boring 100%cotton stuff does nothing for us. Please come back. Bring deliciously exciting sex with you.
Wistfully, breathily ( and over abundantly) yours,
Lani's Dismal Domesticated Un-exciting Body.

Dear Dora the Explorer,
Could you just fall off a mountain already? Could Swiper the Fox catch rabies and rip you to shreds now? Please?
Sincerely, beseechingly yours,
President of the worldwide "KILL DORA" movement. (Me)

Dear Death eaters,
I think there's an Azkaban escapee living in my house. Her name is Sade. She's 13 yrs old and really mean to me. Can you please come and get her? But when you do, can you make sure she tells you where she hid my iPod?
Anonymously yours,
Sade's little sister.

Dear Angelina Jolie,
Every time I see you, I want to buy you a hamburger. So instead I eat one on your behalf. With fries, a sundae and an apple pie. Because that's how much I care about you.
Lots of love and concern,
Founder of "FANS WHO EAT SO ANOREXIC STARS DONT HAVE TO".

Dear TOYS and Kmart Catalogue makers,
If we get one more piece of your filth in the mail, I will hunt you down and kill you. Strangle you with the Santa wish list my 3yr old is adding to everyday using your disgusting literature.
Signed in Dora toys blood,
Serial Kmart Killer.

Dear Lani,
You used to care about me. I used to mean something to you. What happened to the french inspired love? The gentle caresses with moisturizer? All the red hot times we shared? Why you treat me so bad? Where is the love?
Reproachfully yours,
Your nasty, unpainted, unkempt, un-loved, dry-as,fingernails.

Final Notice to Lani's Luscious booty/thighs/stomach,
WE DONT FIT ANYMORE. ACCESS DENIED.
From Skinny Jeans.

Dear Clearasil acne cream,
Is it too much to ask that you live up to your promises and actually banish acne? LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE.
Angrily,
From Mothers who are sick of their teenage sons that invent illnesses so they dont have to go to school when they have a huge pimple on their forehead.

Dear teenagers who live in the same house as me,
You look exactly the same to me as you did when you checked yourself out...two minutes ago. And the two minutes before that. And this morning? The same. And a heads up, two minutes FROM now? You will still look the same. And again another two minutes from that? The same. Trust me. I know. Now please...STOP LOOKING AT ME.
The Mirror.

Dear Edward,
Grow some muscles. Get a tattoo. A tan. Play some rugby. Try to box. Then maybe there wont be anymore debates about what Team the girls are on. I mean, look at me. You don't hear chicks arguing about Team Sonny vs Team Jonah vs Team Richie.
Confidently, supremely me.
Sonny Bill Williams

Dear Sonny Bill Williams,
I can sparkle in the sunlight. Stare at the love of my life for hours. Offer her eternity with a bite. Give her piggy back rides up trees. And I've graduated from high school...oh...fifty times? Trust me, I dont need chick tips from you. Besides, when you're 80? I'll still be sparkly new.
Thanks but no thanks,
Coldly, heartlessly me,
Edward.
P.S Dont forget I can rip your throat out. Effortlessly. And run reeeally fast away from the police.

Dear chocolate lamingtons with cream,
I love you.
Forever,
Lani