dear 18 year old who hit my car,

thanks a lot.
i know you’re in high school and have all the time in the world, but i live in the real world and am busy as fuck with my two jobs plus school plus my girl.
and, oh yeah: you arent responsible for your actions because your parents own and insure your vehicle.
that 2009 toyota prius. awesome that you have a brand new car and i drive an 89 honda civic.
i know your world wont change at all, but i so dont have time for this.
so thanks for the waste of time — and for your mommys bank account thats gonna fix up my car.
but seriously: look before you jolt across busy lanes of traffic. you are in a giant fast moving weapon, please treat it with the respect it deserves.
thanks much.

– killa

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dear headcold,

i am so over you.
not even kidding.
i am already engaged in enough longterm/potentially longterm projects/relationships to have time for you right now.
i understand you think you are better than my medicines.
well, think again — because i will get more medicines, and then even more medicines, until i either go into a coma or you go away.
i am that serious.
plus, its really hard to have the booty with snot dripping down/collecting in the sinuses of your face.
thanks.
xoxo-
killa

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dear elisabeth hasselbeck,

you are, like, 4 hours pregnant.
there is no need for you to be wearing tents right now.
YOU ARE STILL A SIZE 4!! regardless of the babysnack that has taken up residence in your uterus.
please stop.
there is a line –
which i hear usually takes place around 5-6 months.. you know: when you start to show!!
thanks.

xoxo
killa

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job description

from dictionary.com:
nanny: (noun) a person, usually with special training, employed to care for children in a household.

“to care for children” not “to care for household”.

i very much enjoy that the definition of my chosen job: a “nanny”, is different from the definition of say.. a “housemaid” (not my job of choice).

housemaid: (noun) a female servant employed in general domestic work in a home, esp. to do housework.

i am NOT the maid. if you would like to have a sitdown and talk about how you aren’t going to be doing your own dishes, cleaning up after the messes you make with your child, cleaning your bathroom, etc.. then thats great. lets do that.
YOU WILL HAVE TO PAY ME MORE.

thats the way it works. more responsibility equals more pay. also, please let your family and guests know that i am not a peon. if you are older than 2 you need to do your own dishes (put them in the dishwasher thats 4 inches away) and do basic clean up like wiping up water off the bathroom floor after you shower. its called being a big kid. do it.

yes, i do love my job. very much so. but that doesn’t mean that i have to get gangbanged by it. jesus. my life schedule is flexed around being available for you and your child. even when that means coming in early so you can go back to bed for 2 hours (which i personally dont understand. you never see your kid but you choose sleep over hanging out with her??)

From the research I have done I have found that it is common practice to give your nanny a 3-5% pay increase each year (in addition to merit bonuses).. which usually rounds out to $1/hr increase annually. Got it last year — thanks! Turns out this is a new year — uh?!?

Maybe they do (secretly — and poorly) clean their own house.. But I dont see it. I sweep the kitchen at least 2 times a week and I always pull up a crapload.

Anyways, I am waiting until after this weekend (our official 2 year anniversary) to ask about a raise. Feel free to leave suggestions if you have any. Thanks!!

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apology accepted

in regards to accusations of a pending performance parody: i was recently informed that i heard wrong.  so be it.  still blows like a 17 year old at her first sorority party.

via both phone call and text i was informed by other possibly involved parties that they were, in fact, not involved, and that they love me very much.  its still different.  like there is this huge canyon where we used to be attached at the hip.  a necessary relationship evolutionary happenstance, but still odd.

in any case, my show is in less than 2 weeks and i’ve been stressing like a kid trying to dead lift a car.  in the last two days i have: made a tutu, fixed elastic to my toe shoes, made two (tiny) dresses (which still need to be refitted and realtered for length), made an alteration box, spray painted said alteration box, and have henceforth been insanely high every time i am in my car for more than 3 minutes as said box is filling my car with fumes even as we speak.  i guess that can kinda be the pot of gold at the end of my ever so gay rainbow.

thank god for valium.

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ladykilla loves pegatron: a love affair

 ladykillalovespegatron2

so i have this show coming up on february 5th called ladykilla loves pegatron. fun fact about this show: it stars and is about ladykilla (myself) and pegatron (my friendlove, peggy). and thats it. the reason the show is pretty much self titled is because they show is just us. just what we want to do — a venue for us to be ourselves without restriction.

i have never been so excited about a show in my life. we are keeping everything a secret so that our audience can be wildly amazed on performance night. the idea is that we will be a smashing sucess (duh).

unfortunately: last night i ran across (and by ran i mean that some words hit my ears) some information that concerned me. apparently: some individuals (who are themselves performers) feel that my show (you know the one about me) is designed as parody of them. this makes me upset/sad/sick/annoyed.. i dont even know. so many bad/ick/gross feelings. there has never been any communication that would indicate that ladykilla loves pegatron has anything to do with anyone other than ladykilla and pegatron.

and here’s the kicker… i got:

“well, you can understand why we would think that, right?”
“no. actually, i have no clue what you are talking about.”

dear “individuals”: please step outside of yourself for 4.35 seconds and realize that not everything revolves around or even has anything to do with you.

kisses!
killa

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