Monday, September 5, 2011


Dear Erin Whateverthefuckyourlastnameis,

I don't like you.

Since the first couple of days practicing with you, you seemed like someone I couldn't trust, much less befriend. You were always talking about people behind their backs. You made fun of them and you always seemed to be whispering something to someone else. For all I know you've been talking about me too. But today during practice when you told me to do the suicides right you really pissed me off. You came up to me an literally walked me throuhg an entire suicide, telling me which lines to stop at. What you didn't know is that I did the suicide right. I stopped at every line and bent down to touch each one too. Morgan can testify too because she was right next to me when I did it. The only reason you "saw me ahead of everyone else" is because I was faster. Don't accuse me of doing the drill wrong because I just so happen to run faster than you, bitch. Coach doesn't have me playing in games so I push myself harder in practice to get some sort of exercise. Mind your own damn business. If you'd like to correct me, check yourself first. Come at me again and I promise you an argument will arise. You may be older than me, you may have been on this team longer, but you know NOTHING about me and what I can do. Fall back bitch. And lay off the eye makeup. That plus the 6 different colors in your hair makes you look like you're high... all the time.

Love, Cjoe

P.S. Don't mess with me.

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