This is an open letter to my dear friend, Linda Carlisle:
First, I would like to say that this is not a personal attack against Linda. I love Linda and wish her nothing but the best throughout the rest of her life.
But, this slimy bitch thought it was okay to touch everything in our communal bathroom while knowing full well that she was a walking cesspool of "the common cold" (as she puts it).
I do not want any illnesses Linda, I don't care how common they are. Polio was common once, too, it's still a bad thing. But, more importantly, my bathroom is my temple, and I do not need a horde of howler monkeys to come and harass my monks.
You knew I (immaculately beautiful Noah) landed a date with Keith Herberd (hot guy from gerontology class) this Monday and I do not appreciate you trying to sabotage our wholesome bowling and sushi night together. I know you have eyes for Keith (and why wouldn't you) but he has made his choice.
Suprise suprise, he chose the one with a slender frame and a bitchin' immune system.
Next time you feel, "a little under the weather," how about you go spend the weekend at your parents' house - it doesn't matter which one, as long as you're not fucking up my air.
Linda is a great friend and she has done nothing but support me, cherish me and love me … but in her darkest hour, she wiped her gooey stumps on my brand-new rose gold quip toothbrush.
And for this, Linda, for this ... I declare war.
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