comments, concerns, or just plain bitching

Dear Personals,

We need to talk. You come home late every night, reeking of cheap booze, a glaze in your eyes and honey on your lips. Then you stumble around screaming obscenities and humping furniture until you’ve woken the whole magazine.

I thought you would know better, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—The Hendersons called. Apparently Billy left a marijuana cigarette in the drawer of his nightstand.

Are you depressed? Are you drinking too much? Let me help you. You’re better than this.

I will always love you and always be there for you. The first step is in having the courage to look at yourself and know you need help. I’ll be up reading when you get home.

Love,

The Masthead

Masthead,

Wut r U? mOM!? ___\|/___ thats me..sayin F U beeotch!! you are more fat and more annoying FATTY! shut the f*ck up! no one likes you and KILL YURSELF! i do wut i WN\AT! red jacket 402 4 LIVE!

to the fat bitch who keeps tellin me what to do: STOP TELLIN ME WHAT TO DO! i drink wut i want when i wnat! SMOKE A BLUT!!1

o and to the cutie in the SU w/ the pants: FOXY BABY! i want u in my bed! so that i cn have sex! (with u)

Y’All Don’t Know Me,

Perso-WHAT?!

P.S. SMOKE A BLUT!!1