Dear Arriva

Dear Arriva

you can go fuck yourselfs, seriously. 12 hours is a tortuous amount of time to make people wait for a fucking train.

Love
Jackie and Komal
and Catrina, and Gary
except Gary didn't have to wait that long, so not really.

Dear Legs

Dear legs
Please function

Love
--Komal

Dear Gmail

Dear once-heralded Interwebz email provider,

     I want to love you, I really do.  But goddamn it Gmail, when you tell me I can successfully link my various academic email accounts with no problems you really oughta deliver.  At first, like most torrid affairs, you fetched me my documents like a doting lovebird.  Where did we go wrong?  Apparently, you have NOT been fetching various important emails, e.g. security reminders, credit notifications, and family how-are-ya's.  Of course, you have brought me some: spam and useless club reminders.  (I'm very far away, Gmail; I don't need to know when the snowboard club is having its next meeting.)  But fetching nothing would have been far too obvious, and that's what this all really boils down to, right Gmail?  Lies and cowardly deceit!  Well I won't let you hurt me anymore!  You get one more chance (cus I still like your useful, attractive interface), but any more screw-ups and I'm done.  Thanks.

                   Love,
                           Labour's Lost    (get it?  god, I'm clever :]  )

Dear Flatmates

Dear Flatmates of Hardcastle 4:

     Thanks for keeping up with the obnoxious slamming of the kitchen door until 4am.  Thanks also for the wonderful mess in the kitchen (I wish I could use the sink and not have to deal with a clogged murky mess-o'-a-thing).  But thanks most of all for apparently throwing eggs and bottles out the kitchen window and getting me put under investigation.  That's exactly what I need: no sleep and having to look over my shoulder for unmarked vans.  I do hope we can resolve this problem without deportation slash/ uncalled-for banishment.  'Til then, regards.

                            Love,
                                  International Room A

Dear Goldsmiths/Arcadia

Dear Goldsmiths/Arcadia,

Once again, thank you SO much for not telling us something important. Like, oh, I don't know, the fact that we have RAs here? The only reason we found out is because we got in trouble, and some chick walked in the flat telling us to STFU. Good thing she did, because we ended up needing to sic her on some other assholes later that week. Bitches.

Love,
Jackie and Komal

Dear Birds

Dear Birds Outside My Window,

It is 2:40 am. The sun is not yet up, nor will it be for another four hours or so. Please shut the FUCK up and let me sleep.

Love,
Jackie

Dear Arcadia/Goldsmiths

Dear Arcadia and Goldsmiths Academic Advisors/Staff

I just really really want to thank you for screwing me over royally. I love the fact that I had signed up for 5 classes that were not first year courses and that actually could help me graduate but instead you put me in only one of those, and proceeded to put me in only another 3, sorry, 2 other courses. Neither of which really has any relevance to what I'm going to be doing with my degree. Also I mentioned that it was not infact 3 courses but 2, because yes you geniuses put me in the same class twice. Bravo! No really bang up job you fucking wankers. So what am I now supposed to do for the rest of the term, and when I go back to the States?! Becuase remember I didn't sign up for these courses nor do I want to take them now, but was I given any options, no, I wasn't. Then you also tell me that I one of the courses I had signed up for, I was in, 4 weeks in I find out and the prof ws just like, nope you've missed to much and I took  you off my register. Great. Superb. Glad I'm wasting my time, energy, money, and life.


Love
Komal