An Open Letter to the Baddest Bitch I Know

Dear Sallie Mae,Listen...I don't how this happened but Whit, Alex, Katie and I decided it was time to tell you. And it needs to come from me because I owe you the most money. But...ugh..ok, I have something to say and I want to just be super honest with you. So here goes.

...We don't like you. Ahhh I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER! Not to be whatever, but you are a difficult girl to hang with. We feel like, we get this text from you that's all, "PAY DAY! Drinks on me, ladies night out!" We'll go to meet you, and next thing I know, I'm holding your hair back while you vomit all over the bathroom of Beauty and Essex (ruining Katie's shoes) while Whit and Alex are left to figure out the bill. This has happened so many times, it's ridiculous! You're a grown woman! Yeah, maybe I had an over-served day myself at that bottomless mimosa brunch in the Village, BUT I APOLOGIZED via our group message and our Voxer thread! And I know you talked shit about me behind my back about that. Know this Sallie, my gays are loyal to me. If you talk bad on me I. Will. Find. Out.

Now, this hasn't been a one-way street. I get it. There have been some not luxury things you have had to deal with too. You weren't invited to book club. But to be fair, I don't know that you can read. You are so busy harping on everyone all the damn time, and calling and calling and asking when you're going to get your money back how can you possibly have time to read the latest chick-lit? Which is FINE. It's just...you're behind.

Now. I might as well get personal with you. I don't trust you. Haven't trusted you since girl's night at Alex's and you didn't know a SINGLE LYRIC to "It Makes Me Ill." Who are you? And then I got bangs. And then you got bangs. Fine, biddie. Imitation is the sincerest form, yes? But then I did the center part and lo and behold there you are all over the Insta with your center part. And whatever, don't cite me. But I saw.

To end this all, you're a great girl..we just...don't want to hang out with you anymore. Whit thinks you're a killjoy, Alex doesn't trust anyone without a Pinterest, and you aren't even invited to Katie's wedding. And me? I think you're pretty fair-weather. You offered me the world and I took it, and now you WON'T STOP CALLING ME asking for the world back. You'll get it biddie. You'll get it when you least expect. And it will be a one-time payment because I'm about to get all kinds of famous. So stop calling. Stop texting. Stop asking me to sign your name up at Equity for ECCs. Get your ass up and do it yourself.

xx ps I know your Dad pays your rent. I know.