An Open Letter to the Guy Next Door

Dear Asshole,

I have chosen this moniker for you for several reasons. The most obvious is that it fits. I also have no idea what your name is other than motherfucker and I'm assuming that that is your pet name from the women in your life and, therefore, inappropriate for me to use.

Your office has been next to mine for nearly a year now and even though you've never bothered to introduce yourself, I feel I know enough about you to write this letter. I'm concerned, Asshole. I'm concerned about your monumentally shitty karma.

You're a real estate investor, yet you don't have business cards and your name isn't on your door. You yourself admit this is because you buy foreclosure property and resell it. You have a nice corner office. You drive a very nice Cadillac. Your wife wears beautiful jewelry.

Because you're a vulture.

I say again - monumentally shitty karma. And it's already starting to show in this lifetime, isn't it? What goes around...

I'm sure you've noticed how sound travels between our adjoining wall. That's how I know your pet name. It's also how I know your ex-wife still has a hand in your business. You don't like that much, do you? I know your wife hates it even more. She at least gives you a half hour of peace between the ex leaving and her arrival before your next ass reaming though. Thoughtful of her.

Then, for me, there is that blessed one to two hours of quiet at lunch time. Is it wrong of me that I sometimes hope one of you chokes on your french fries or your egg roll and has to go to the hospital, leaving me in peace for the rest of the day?

The most telling time of day in terms of your karma however, is when your daughter comes in. She's not very bright, is she? Shitty life choices have left her with responsibilities and burdens she's just not equipped to handle. I'm sure it pisses you off to no end that she takes her victim's attitude out on you.

Her children are a joy too. I especially like it when they thump into the wall and scare the dozing client on my massage table. I'm just glad my regular 7:00pm client doesn't hear very well. I'm sure she would take exception to your pet name.

Your daughter is also spoiled, isn't she? Another source of irritation for you, I'm sure. Feeling guilty, are we? If I took that kind of tone with my father... Well, let's just say I wouldn't. Respect must have a different meaning in your house.

So, I'm concerned, Asshole. You're here early in the morning and you stay till very late at night. You're here all weekend too. You're starting to look awfully scruffy and worn. I didn't think karma normally came around that fast. Sucks to be you.

Maybe it's time for a change. A new job. A new office (PLEASE!!!). Maybe a nice long walk.

Off a bridge.

I'd feel sorry for you, but you're an asshole, Asshole. You interrupt my business with your screaming family dysfunction. You're rude and you're a vulture of the human condition. You deserve every bit of the grief in your life. However, if you could continue to go about your shitty karmic cycle a little more quietly, I would certainly appreciate it.

Thanks!

The Fat Girl Next Door

P.S. When you go into the bathroom down the hall from our respective offices, you have to turn on the light. Does it not make sense to you that when you leave the bathroom you should TURN OFF THE LIGHT??????