Dear Reply All,

Dear Reply All,

In a lot of ways, you're like fire. Used appropriately, you can be useful.
fire : cooking :: reply-all : arranging transportation

Or amusing.
fire : fireworks :: reply-all : 70-email chain with your laydeez about your amazing lives

But used inappropriately, you are almost as dangerous as fire, Reply All.
fire : Peshtigo Fire* :: reply all : accidentally including everyone on an email with salacious information

But you have one thing fire does not, Reply All, and that is the ability to make me inappropriately angry when people do not know how to use you. That doesn't make sense, Reply All, because the result of someone using fire incorrectly? Could be fatal. The result of someone using Reply All incorrectly? Is just me fuming at my desk, reading emails that do not/never will pertain to me. Apparently wasting my time is worse than arson. Thanks for teaching me that, Reply All.

Please don't write back. Seriously, don't.
Anna

*more deaths than the Chicago fire, bitches. They were on the SAME DAY, and of COURSE Chicago gets remembered and poor Peshtigo is lost to the sands of time.

Dear Shiny Thing Beyonce is Wearing in this Picture,

[photo via jezebel]

Dear Shiny Thing Beyonce is Wearing in this Picture,

I want you on me. Now.

Love,
Anna

Dear Reader(s) of LTT,

[photo courtesy of The Master Shake Signal]

Dear Reader(s) of LTT,

I am so sorry for the silent treatment I've been showing you over the past couple of months. If it weren't for Anna, we wouldn't even have a site anymore. I can name any number of excuses which include (but are not limited to) my insane job that keeps me ACTUALLY working during the day (unacceptable), training for a half-marathon which leaves me away from my computer, and my nighttime job as my alter-ego and superhero KAT GIRL saving fashion-challenged hipsters everywhere. But this would be lame, as excuses are for wimps. I will say this. I'm sorry. I've missed you. And I'm never letting go again.

Hugs and kisses,
Kat

Dear 213 Woodpoint Road, Apartment 2,

Dear 213 Woodpoint Road, Apartment 2,

Let's be real here: you were a shithole. Sure, all our friends said it was "cute" and "quirky" and "had character," but the truth is that you sucked. Why did we have two different entrances, meaning I had to go out into the hallway to get to the bathroom? Why was one window in the living room blocked by the building next door? Why did the ceiling in the kitchen fall down one time and almost crush* my roommate? Some questions will never be answered. I'm glad we have left you behind.

But you know what? I will never be sad I lived in you, because somehow Craigslist Jesus brought me the best roommates in all of New York City. Also, you were very close to Atlantic Attic, where I have purchased upwards of 20 dresses. So that was good too.

Peace the fuck out,
Anna

*ok, she wasn't in there, but she could have been! She is frequently in there.