I didn't want to have to write this email but you've left me no choice. I have never, ever, EVER felt so demeaned and belittled by ANYONE in my life. I don't know what soapbox you've been standing on to make you think you have the right to say such terribly condescending things to me. I used to value your opinion, but clearly, as you have little to no awareness of the impact of your actions on the people in your life I just feel that I can't trust you anymore.
I'd like to ask that you return Fluffy to my house tomorrow evening and from now on keep all conversations between us regarding his therapy sessions to yourself. I would also like to request that you reimburse me for his blue doggie sweater you ripped up the other afternoon in your overdramatic attempt to berate me and my life decisions.
Please respond to this note by email only. I am screening your calls.
What can I say to you that I haven't said already.
I am going to take your attacks and be the bigger person here. I
understand Fluffs means a lot to you but you have no idea what he has
done to my soul. And that conversation is between me and the lamp
Who can I confide in at this point but inanimate objects when people
can act like animals as you do? Hurt isn't the word. Neither is
angry. I am disappointed in you. I thought you were a great person.
I thought we were great friends. And, you know what, I am all the
better for walking away.
If we are going to talk about actions, let's. Last year at Purim, It
was completely inappropriate to waltz around MY house drunk in your
father's kimono from the Vietnam War screaming and shouting about how
no one will ever understand the pain you are in. My grandmother never
needed to see that. You know my grandfather died in that war serving
as a medic. It is a sore subject for her and for my family and you
had no regard for anyone's feelings. Which is the big problem I have
with you. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You can talk
talk talk about how much of a victim you are, but when it comes down
to it, you are your own worst enemy and I feel sorry for you.
I can't believe we have gotten to this point and nothing will take
that image out of my head. The image of my nana walking out of the
living room, head held high, holding back the tears as she climbed the
stairs to her imminent death. Death by heart break. Yeah. I said
it. I never told you but my Nana died that night because the pain was
too real and the pain was too great.
So think about your actions Annie. Think about how you make others
suffer because you need a little bit of attention and then come back
and you can talk to me like an adult, with real issues and real
Call me or email me. I don't screen calls because I am always there
for my friends.
I don't know how to respond. I am baffled by your note, your accusations, and that you would call yourself a "friend" after the way you treated me, and worse--Fluffy.
I don't even know where to start. Actually I do. With the referenced Purim incident. You know I'm not Jewish and feel really uncomfortable when you use your religion to pressure me into doing things I am uncomfortable with. (I think it is sick you forced Fluffy to convert and want to remind you that you owe me money for the Rabbi's doggy Judaism classes). And if we are going to talk about making scenes, let's examine my post-modern dance performance at the Lucille C. Lucille Studio last August. In addition to omitting a smell like the inside of a hockey player's jock strap in your sweaty gym clothes (is it that hard to shower?) you relentlessly screamed obscenities at me, and once loudly referred to my performance as hybrid of Liza Minelli's evil twin doing the polka and a blind, three legged dog humping a fire hydrant. That was hurtful. Clearly you cant grasp post modern art.
That's not the point. The point is that your Nana lied to you. She was a drug user and was addicted to opiates. What you perceived as heart break was her morphine withdrawal. I might be triple board certified in gynecology, psycho pharmacology, and forensic analysis but it doesn't take a brain surgeon to recognize a drug addict.
Let's get down to business. You want to talk about adult issues and adult problems? I think you need to grow up first. Stop lying to everyone. You're not 24 your 37. I've seen your passport. I think you've lied so often you believe these falsehoods to be true. It's sad. I'd be worried for you if I didn't hate you so much.
P.S. You know he hates it when you call him Fluffs.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Fake Fighting is the BEST
While having to deal with unnecessary drama over email earlier today, my co-worker and I decided to begin some fake fighting emails. I am sure you are asking if I have better things to do, like actual work, or blog, but I thought I would mix things up a little bit. Turns out, fake fighting is oh so fun. Enjoy. (And I'll keep you all posted on this pointless, made up saga).