Dear Paige Elizabeth Padon, aka Lilly, aka, Pagina:

You just used me on the phone for 21 minutes while you waited for some delinquents (aka Figo) to meet you at the bar, in an effort to make you look less than dumb standing alone, most probably looking like a "working girl."

I will not tolerate this behavior anymore. And for your punishment, I would like you to call me at 8am when your class is starting telling me how shitty you feel, while I am already awake, caffeinated, and doing something productive, but without the hangover and the urge to kill myself, which I'm sure you will tell me you do.

And you now owe me 20 minutes of my life back. I don't even recall one thing we talked about in those 20 minutes. Except for you making fun of a handicapped female, which will send you straight to hell, in which there will be overly expensive drinks of Jack Daniels and Coca-Cola, which will only be served in too-strong shots. Contrary to what you are counting on, there will NOT be an open bar and lots of hot "bad boys."

Also, before I conclude, I would like to point out how you think it's funny that I am on anti-biotics and cannot drink or partake in anything besides going to work and coming straight home. And how you think my night just got "a little bit better!!" because of a Saved By The Bell marathon. I mention these things because there is nothing in the world that would make me happier than to slam back an absurd amount of Pabst Blue Ribbon while refusing to eat the hotdogs and tater tots they serve in the Trash Bar. Then, return home to lovely Greenpoint, in whichcase I would run my drunk ass upstairs, grab my skateboard, and ride it approximately 20 feet across the street to play some exhilarating rounds of skee ball, whilst refusing once more, free hotdogs.

Sidenote: Jessie Spano and Lisa Turtle have inspired my next outfit.

Nonetheless, I will remain here in this bed, loathing you and and the rest of my stupid friends in New York, until I eventually cry myself to sleep wondering why I came home in the first place, and then I will remember that some fucking retard stole my Macbook, and then I will be satisfied to know there is a burglar on the prowl in your area that is probably stealing your most prized posessions: Your Macbook, your vibrator, and Crimson. Yes-- I dragged the pussy into this. Twice.

Hope you puke from drinking for the first time tonight, and that Ryan laughs at you while it gets in your hair.

Your loving, PRETTY sidekick,
Alexi

ps. HAUUUUY