I had been flying all day. Sick. Jet lagged. Finally got to sleep until your lovely screams to your friend Dylan woke up me and my whole neighbourhood up. I should have called the cops and let them sort out your irrational ass, but something about growing up in the ‘90s keeps me from being a narc. Your tantrum, screaming at the dogs on our street to shut up and going on and on are all proof that you are a garbage person and can't handle your alcohol. I hope you woke up with a huge hangover and feeling like the shit little girl you are. —Tired, Sick and Pissy