Member Since: 1/29/2012
Posts: 5,585
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Rocco, my dearest,
You must forgive the terseness of this letter since, between scalping random hens on Instagram and thinking about the new feature film my limp-wristed, prissy-lipped fans have been *dying* for me to get started on, my day is scheduled as one of the busiest I've had in recent memory. Not to mention all of the guiding and providing I have to do for your younger siblings. Why, your brother deemed it appropriate just yesterday to ask me for a new toothbrush so that he could do a better job when tasked with polishing my bathroom's 350-square-foot LuxTouch floor. He is so selfish sometimes. Over my glass of Château Margaux, I calmly informed him that I am unable to afford any further expenses, and that, if he wishes to make things easier on himself, he can start by saving his monthly dimes to be able to acquire on his own what luxury supplies he seems to have in mind.
In any event, I am writing to say how devastated I am that you would, yet again, humiliate me in such a way. Do you really think it is worth it to cause me such grief and heartache? Don't forget that I have been around since your birth and have taken very good care of you―paid my boyfriends and staff to pretend that they don't hate your guts, taught you about Kahlo and de Lempicka, forced you to learn some slick break-dancing moves so people would appreciate how cool I am, introduced you to fine cinema by having you watch such cherished gems as Shanghai Surprise and Arthur and the Invisibles every Saturday night for years, etc. All this, in your heart, you know. Sadly, I can tell from your actions that you do not care even just one minuscule iota about my celebrated legacy of unparalleled social significance and unprecedented cultural impact. (Not to brag, of course... hihi.)
For these reasons, you are not to bring your "qualities" into my home again until you have smartened up and amended some of this diabolical behaviour. However, as things are, I fear that you may never be a warm, real alien. Um, human being, I mean. Maybe you will prove me wrong in time. Until then, consider yourself uninvited to the next tour.
Enclosed are new copies of the Bible, the Quran, the Torah, and the Talmud, as well as David Kirk's Miss Spider's Tea Party. In order to secure the money to purchase these, I had Mercy James out shoveling driveways and sidewalks for approximately eight hours yesterday. All to the music of Melissa Manchester. I hope it brings you great pride to know that, all thanks to your total thoughtlessness, your poor sister's arms are very sore. I expect you to study these texts diligently and, in time, I am sure that the light you so desperately need will be shed. Don't forget that nobody wishes it for you more than your―
"Madommie"
P.S. Grow your ****ing hair out already. Vicky Pollard isn't going to be my daughter-in-law and neither is Gemma from Coronation Street.
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