Dear Handymen fellers who done fucked up my house,
Hey great job on repairing our ceiling! Thanks for taking the popcorn off of it and oh look it that! Our fireplace has taken on a rocky earthy feel! Awesome job! Oh no, that’s okay if you can’t install the sinks quite right, we just appreciate all the fine work you’ve done to make our condo beautiful!
See? These would have been the praises you would have heard spew forth from my mouth if you both had enough brains to take a LOOK around your workspace and realize that you need to clean up after yourselves. Taking the fucking broom and swirling it around in one place for an hour while talking on your cell phone doesn’t count. So thanks to your neglect, I had to come back from my vacation to a condo that looked suspiciously like a powdered donut. My once luscious red velvet couches appeared to have dandruff and emitted a plume of white dust when I sat my lazy ass on them. Christmas sure came early for me this year!
Oh gee! I sure am thirsty, let me go get a glass of water….oh.wait? what’s that dear husband of mine? You had to dig my glass out from under a mound of drywall remnants that had gathered into every nook and cranny of our cabinets? FABULOUS.
You know, when I was on vacation, I was thinking to myself, "the first thing I want to do when I get home is to re-wash all our dishes and glasses!" How did you guys know??? Really. You guys are so very thoughtful!
I guess that shop vac we left you, the broom, the mop, the two additional vacuums, the cleaning solutions and the endless amounts of paper towels completely got in the way of your work. I do apologize for leaving them carelessly about. How silly of me to think that you would see these items and actually use them to (gasp) CLEAN.
And thank you oh so very much for installing our brand new sinks! I'm sure the fact that it leaked everytime we turned on the faucet wasn't your fault at all, no matter what the plumber we had to call the next day said!
You’re lucky that
A: I actually paid you
B. I didn’t wipe the check on my dog’s ass and shove it up your nose.
Okay, okay, so that wasn’t really a Fan Letter Friday post per se. I just had to vent about those idiots.
So ummm. Yeah, here’s a real (but short) Fan Letter:
Your right rubber nipple is leaking a strange solution onto your shirt. Can android boobies lactate? If so, what type of fluid would it produce? Margarine? WD40? Either way, don’t let it set, that shit could stain.
Oh and the last of the Cro-Magnon men is walking right next to YOU! (wearing a shirt from the Jean Claude Van Damme collection.). Don’t feed it or it'll follow you home.
Just thought I’d let you know.