Dear Amy Winehouse,
i would like to apologise for my inability to write a letter as lengthy and
characterized to detail like your momma winehouse had. I loved how your music sounded like when you sang sober and would hereby express my condolence to the inanimate success of your multiple suicide attempts. For the unfathomable piece of money wasting, coke-snorting, animal-abusing , and societally useless and apparently already talentless unhygienic white trash packed shite that you are, i hope you die the next time you try to kill yourself.
and please remember to offer all that is monetarily left behind from what you own to charity should you succeed in your next suicide attempt. and by attempting suicide i do not mean slicing yourself again. i mean, KILLing yourself. and making sure that you die. like making out with a wild alligator in the river. and i hope you've hired yourself a languistic representitive to read my letter to you, if ever. because you, thinking charity, would probably end up feeding your hair to a angry hippopotamus which refused to feed on you because it happened to be a gracious, fertilizing vegan.
for my efforts to publicly be spelling hippopotamus, i demand for myself a deserved credit of US$200,000 food vouchers.
and until your sanity is regained, i wish you death.
a societal nobody,
T
it is almost inexpressible how arduous it has been getting by them endless nights without the almighty bluebear for meu non-existent bedtimes. no kudos to the chen junior who decided he'd loan my precious half-read novel to the english tutor.
