an open letter to

Dear "Real Teacher",

Hello, it's me, "The Substitute". No, we've never actually met, but I've heard a lot about you and I have played with everything in the top drawer of your desk. I've also learned that the password to your computer isn't "worksucks", "iamsobored", "happyhour", "nsync" or "ilikecats". Honestly, the first four were more about me than about you, but I was really shocked that the one about cats didn't work. I'm going to keep trying to crack it though, because you didn't leave me any lesson plans and I dismissed the kids shortly after taking attendance, but I don't get paid unless I stay until 3.

You're an asshole, "Real Teacher".

Sincerely,
Your Sub

i have so many posts to...well, post

but no desire to write them out.


every day is a wfi for me since i began substitute teaching.

basically, kevin, you were right.

if only i had a copy of the note i left the kindergarten teacher of the class i subbed for on halloween... i believe it read something like this:

"re: your lesson plans; non functional. no one listens to me. i don't know why because i'm bigger than they are. i will never come back. ps, holy cow."

Dear Thugs,

Dear Thugs,

Yeah, you guys. You fucking, pieces of shit bitch guys. You dirty ass stupid kids who broke into my car last night while I was on the couch watching Amy Adams on SNL. You guys. You suck. Yeah, I know I left my car unlocked - but seriously - who the hell do you think you are walking up my LIGHTED driveway into my LIGHTED carport and rummaging through my smoking sexy 03 Honda Element?? And did you even hear my dog barking at you?? She is on to your scent now. You're just lucky that SNL suddenly decided to become funny again so that i was too busy to get off the couch and look out the window to check what she was barking at! So next time, because I'm pretty sure SNL will never be funny again - you better watch your backs because i have every intention of getting up and looking!

And I WILL catch you.
So now, let's discuss the things you took. Yeah, you took my ipod. But it's like, two years old. And a nano. So not only will all your thug friends that you try to sell it to think you're the biggest faggot in the world for having stealing a nano in the first place, but it's also valued around $25. In fact, the imported Best Of the Cardigans album that you overlooked on the dashboard was worth more than that nano. Actually, all my CDs that I had in the car were worth way more than that. And i'm a little offended that you weren't interested in them at all... And you took my old passport? Yeah, now you have my social security number - but i've already destroyed my credit so i don't think it will do you much good. And my car registration? i don't know what you're planning on doing with that, but i DO know that i'll have it replaced by tomorrow afternoon.

Although I applaud your decision to steal my caselogic zipper of cds, i will say that i am completely over that hip hop phase so i'm not even all that bummed out about it.

And lastly, just so you know, you missed out on the following:

•$180 in cash stuffed in a check presenter sitting in the center console
•dkny glasses, burberry sunglasses and christian dior sunglasses
•a really great mix cd i made in November before my disc drive broke on my laptop
•$4 in nickels and dimes in my cup holder

so....WHO SUCKS NOW??? HUH?!?!?!?! HUH?!?!?!?!


Fuck you!!!

-Sasha - but you knew that, because you have my passport.

sending this would either be the best fucking idea, or the worst fucking idea....

i received an award in 2006 - well, a grant really - to do a project for Hillel at my university. Long story short, they stiffed me, sent me nasty letters asking for a return of the half of the money they had given me at the beginning, and have been a general nuisance ever since. I keep trying to get my dues from them but they keep coming up with nonsense. so basically, after a bunch of letter writing and them attacking my character, calling me a "failure", saying my project was incomplete and even yelling at me and my mom on the phone, lying, being hypocritical and avoiding their responsibilities i have had enough. this is my final letter to the head of the committee. other players include the rabbi, who basically co-heads the committee but wont admit it because then he has to TAKE RESPONSIBILITY, and maureen, a secretary of sorts.

all the other letters i had written them were very direct, polite and appropriate. but that's no fun, is it??!!


Well David,

Yo it's like this, I really enjoyed your brief history of the success of the Frazer award. It looks like so much fun that I am even considering trying for it again next year - - wouldn't that just be aces! Are food and beverage provided at the awards? I sure hope so, I love cheese and crackers.

Enough about lactose (does it give you gas? it gives my brother gas), my mother showed me the letter you sent to her regarding both the previous letter she sent to you and Rabbi Lee and my "failed committments", and I cannot thank you enough! I haven't laughed so hard since Gallagher's Sledge-O-Matic special in 1998!! Who knew lies, bullshit, and outright make believe could be so funny!! You did, David! You did! I especially loved the part about "knowing the facts" and your creative usage of the word "spite" in place of the word "despite". Or was that by accident? Humm... I bet you make a fabulous lawyer!

These incidents you speak of, with wild and great imagination, are the things children's books are made of! Which is both ironic and convenient considering I hope to be an illustrator of children's books in the future - so if you ever feel like fully developing these "fantasy worlds" into a completed story and you need an illustrator - you know where to find me (wink!)! But remember, I have very little (if any) understanding of "committment" and I often times take things for granted...

I love that you think I ignored Maureen's phone calls (all both of them!) and e-mails (of which I have only three, one of her cancelling an appointment I had with the Rabbi and postponing it, last minute, and the other a response to an e-mail I had sent her regarding specific meeting times and my availability), it's like you pulled this shit out of your ass. straight from your ass. you stuck your hand up your butt hole and ripped this from your innards, bloodied and soiled.. Your inclusion of the e-mails was a nice touch too, especially considering they don't include MY writings to Maureen, and just hers. Well played, Mr. Frazer!

And you are absolutely right about my project being unfinished in February. It most certainly was. Absolutely 100% unfinished in February. Did you know the projects were due March 19th? That's weird.

Humm..what else... oh, "redirecting" my project toward children. Well, yes and no. I didn't REDO my project, it just so happened that while working on it it had taken a direction geared toward youth. Perhaps it had to do with my years of teaching the wee ones or my previously mentioned desire to illustrate books for kids. Either way, the Rabbi really fucked up his notations on that meeting we had! I think all those back problems got to his ears!! I kid, I kid!

Lastly, once again you're right about something. i didn't bring my finished project to the Rabbi until the end of April. Why? Well, because no one had asked me for it prior. There had been no rescheduling for the presentations and no requests to see my project, so i just kept it at home until someone asked for it. And then I brought it in.

Oh - before i forget, you mentioned something about the "inappropriate tenor" used by my Mother in her letter to you, which reminds me, I don't think I ever got a chance to thank you for calling me an irresponsible failure. I really appreciated it. Is that better or worse than a washed up, hypocritical Jerk face of a Lawyer cheating young artists out of hundreds of dollars?? I'm not quite sure, and neither are my two peers from 2006 who also didn't receive their dues.

Well, before I end this letter between friends, I would like to share a short list I've made of things you can do with the money I am owed, but will never receive.

1. stick it in your butt
2.
3.

Uh oh! It's unfinished!

-best wishes,
Sasha

PS no i don't want to do a presentation for a "small portion" of the money.

See that annoying fat fuck over there? THAT'S LIFE.

Dear Life,

Why are your people hellbent on taking photos of their very existence? What is wrong with a normal person memory? You remember what you need. Oh, you say they want to document all the entertaining moments you give them? Why then are your people hellbent on posting those awful photos on the internet in very public forums? Lastly, why are all the awful ones of me!?!!!! I finally fully understand the devastating wrath someone feels when they utter, "That's life!" It's your fucking fault.

Eat a dick.

Regretfully yours,
Meghan.

P.S. I refuse to satisfy you by posting the pictures again because, as you well know already, they involve some drunken dance moves, bigface, and a frizzy bad haircut.

P.P.S EAT A DICK!

An Open Letter to...

Dear Unemployment,

We don’t know each other that well, so let's not make this any harder than it has to be. My name is Sasha Lewis, and I need you to let me go. It's that simple. You wont miss me, I swear. I have a lot of experience in being let go - and trust me, it's always for the better, and rarely does anyone give it a second thought.

I mean, what exactly are you accomplishing by continuing to hang around? It can’t possibly be entertaining for you. Do you think you’re raining on my parade or something? Because I have never had, nor been part of, any parade. Maybe you think you’re keeping me from participating in the activities that I enjoy? Well FYI, I've smoked way more pot and eaten way more chocolate since you came around than I did before we ever met. And not only was I able re-watch (yeah, that’s right, I said RE watch) America's Next Top Model Cycles 1 and 2, but I also got to RE watch (that’s right, I said it again) Cycles 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7 as well. (And you know what 7 rhymes with, right? Heaven, mmhmm.) And what’s more, I never even liked paying rent, so that’s not an issue either. Sure, I had to move back to Tucson to live with my parents, but there's always food in the fridge, $10 to borrow, and all the movie channels a girl could dream of. So hey, it's not so bad.

I know what you're thinking right now. You're wondering why I would ask to be let go if I seem to be enjoying your presence so much. Well, the truth of the matter is that I don't have an answer for that. A little spending money wouldn’t hurt though. I'm low on lip gloss, and could use a new pair of sneakers and a few new books to scatter around the house so that people think I’m well educated. And I know I said I don't like paying rent, but my roommate, Kirsten, well she really, really likes [read: LOVES] when I do pay rent - so I probably should throw down a little something something, just for her. Ya know? (BTW - she's unemployed too. But it's cool if you keep her on your team, her Jewish boyfriend is super rich.)

And yes, I do know that there are millions of people out there who have put in way more time with you than I have (I'm pretty sure my dad has been a member of your club for the last thirty years) and some of them probably deserve to get out of the big black hole of eviction, credit card debt, and utter hopelessness that you’ve sunk them into, way more than I do (however I am not referring to the ones that gamble, drink excessively and do hard drugs. Or the ones that vote Republican. I definitely should get to go ahead of them.). Again, I have no real response to that, I just need you to know that I’m aware of the situation. You know what I else I need to you know? That I need a fucking job, you little bitch. There are a million more fish in the sea, big U - I think you even have an appointment scheduled with my brother for late next week – you don’t need me taking up space.

If that still doesn't convince you to free me from your sweaty, calloused, life-ruining, demon hands, then just remember this: I have all the time in the world to sit here, in my air conditioned bungalow, on the purple leather couch (not joking), watching a DVR overflowing with Degrassi episodes, to write you a letter each and every day. And they will just get longer and longer and more and more annoying and you will have to read them all just because I said so. They will be filled with grammatical errors and written illegibly by hand, in red ball point pen, on wide ruled notebook paper without the perforated edges. You don't want that. No one wants that.

Well, I guess that sums it up, Sir. I hope you’ll consider forgetting about me, for the time being. At least for the summer. Don’t be sad, I’m almost positive we’ll see each other again soon.

Vodka,
Sasha Lewis

WFI: Packing to move, BFI: Procrastinating.

Dear Whole Foods store in Brighton, MA,

First, I am an adult, I promise. And, while this may seem like whining, I really don't want it to come off that way. What might be unimportant to your staff made a pretty major change in my schedule. And, for that, I pretty much hate you guys.

So, I am moving and need some boxes. Moving can be a pretty stressful thing as I'm sure you know well and I am relying on two days off (one of them being today) to accomplish packing. Last year, you guys were really kind to save some for me. This year, I decided to call you again for boxes to move. Yeah, sure, carrying 7 boxes back to my apartment in oppressive humidity last July was fairly intolerable, but the obtainment of the boxes was so smooth thanks to a larger older fellow, I decided to try again. Plus, the weather this weekend is so much cooler. So, I called ahead last night to see if there were boxes available and after an odd and confusing exchange at the front desk where a woman told me there would be no boxes available because they are all immediately compacted and there wouldn't be any until the next day however there won't actually be any tomorrow (Sunday), I was thankfully transferred to grocery. There, a young guy told me there WERE boxes and I asked if he could stick a post-it note on them to save them for me when I pick them up at 10 am in the morning. He said that was totally unnecessary, no one would touch them and to call in the morning. So, I did. And another young guy this morning says no, there are no boxes saved and no boxes available and to call back at 1pm.

Well, that was 9:30am and I planned to start packing after picking the boxes up at 10am. This really puts a huge delay in my whole schedule. Not just my packing schedule, but my LIFE schedule. I feel like I did everything I could possibly do to make sure I would have boxes and your store lacks a proper system to assist customers with their amateur recycling endeavors. This wasn't a last minute dash at all. I called ahead! Twice! And not one, but two people lied to me. Hell, maybe even more. At this point, the process of collecting these boxes was so botched and laden with misinformation, I can't figure out where it all when wrong.

So, I know this isn't a big deal in the grocery world, but, in Meghan world, it was a really annoying inconvenience and a major setback to moving forward in my life; pun intended. If your staff was more organized, informed, and possibly more friendly (read: not imbecilic liars), I don't think this would have happened today. After reviewing your Core Values, I'd say this issue is violating at least 4 of them. Above all, this interaction with your staff lacked integrity and respect. If your stores are charging so much for groceries, you should probably train your staff in basic customer service. And, also, stop hiring liars.

Most sincerely,
Meghan.



I fucking hate moving.

Definitely.

Lew,
I know I told you the other day that you're Lesbian and I am Gay. I think I even threw in an obvs.

but after last night, when you made out with a really hot, completely straight male, I just don't know. You did good, kid.

but wait. he pushed you in corners to makeout with you and slept in your bed with you and nothing else happened. you made no move. I call that a bad idea.

Lesbian.





at least you wore your hair down...for 2 seconds!

Love,
Gay.

L&G

so gem, if you click our blogspot profile (off "le click click" on the left) our header is "L&G".

lesbian and gay, obvs.


which one do you want to be??



regards,

Lewis