Dear Little Toe,
I know you must be pretty pissed off after your impromptu meeting with the oil column heater at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning. I can obtain from the screaming pain that has been sent to me ever since, that you're still not over it.
I did think you were getting better, and forgetting about any past grievances. It now seems as tho I was incorrect in this assumption, and instead of the taking the magical journey toward recovery, you've perhaps gone back a step or two. This I am very unhappy about.
Please find it in yourself to repair and stop the hating, because I'm getting mighty sick of hobbling around like a weirdo, or having people at work comment on my lack of shoes.
Well wishes,
The Rest of the Body.
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Dear Good Laika,
Thank you for finally coming to Christchurch. I'm very much looking forward to your performance at Fat Eddies on Thursday.
Much Love,
A New Fan.
P.S. Your new album is fucken hot.
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Dear Evil Jeans That Use To Taunt Me,
HA-HA! You thought I'd never get my rump into your denim domain, didn't you? Well guess what! I have! I win, you lose, ha-fucken-ha.
Love,
The Girl Now Within Your Denim Walls.
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Dear Everybody Else,
I'm going away on holiday NEXT SATURDAY. HAHAHA to all of you who are not.
Love,
That Annoying Rubbing-It-In-Your-Face Bitch.