Just Between You and Me

October 20th, 2006.

Y? Can I call you Y? We need to talk. The obsessive reading of my site is getting, well, a tad too obsessive for my tastes. Seeing you refresh my page hundreds of times a day (at all hours) is making me wonder if there isn’t something better that you can be occupying your time with. Perhaps raising your children? Besides, you’re single-handedly skewing my stats.

Listen, unlike the other two I don’t think you have yet entered the realm of officially exploiting your children. I think you’re borderline. There is a fine line between ‘check out this cute picture of my kid’ and ‘check out this cute picture of my kid, boy I wish I could buy her some food, if ONLY someone would click that link…” Some might argue behind your back that you have crossed that line what with you constantly bitching about your money problems, but I disagree. I think you still have time to take a step back. If you want to.

Hey, do you remember that television show ‘The Swan.’ You watch a lot of garbage television, so I’m sure you do. You want to know what struck me about that show? When all the girls were done, they all looked eerily similar. They all had the same sized breasts, they all had the same pinched cheeks, they had the same shade of blonde hair (except the obviously ethnic ones) and I remember being so fucking creeped out. I feel the same way when I go to the mall nowadays. Everyone is starting to look exactly alike and it’s unsettling. I guess where I’m going with this is that you may be overweight and you may have stretch marks, (And you are and you do, no matter what your Internet friends tell you) but at least you look different. I think there’s still something to be said for looking different. I think looking different is better than looking like a doll. So, quit putting it down, will ya? Would you rather your daughter look different or like a doll? Well, she learns from you so be sure you’re teaching her what you really believe.

Also, consider talking to a professional about the fact that you obviously have a touch of The Crazy. The mood swings are downright disturbing to anyone who’s not also crazy. It bleeds from the computer screen whenever we read your site. And the way you’ve latched onto my site isn’t exactly the sign of a mentally healthy adult either. We have medication for that. Fuck Tom Cruise, we have medication for that!

But honestly, I don’t care what you do. I’m not as emotionally invested in you as this letter suggests. Take to heart what I’ve said and call a shrink or think to yourself what I condescending bitch I am and go wrap yourself in measuring tape as you clutch a scale to your heart and cry again, for all I care. I’m just here to make you a deal:

Drastically cut down on the time you visit my site (Say, once a day, twice a day TOPS) and I will promise to never write about you or your site again. I pinky swear.

Like I said, you’re seriously fucking up my stats.

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