Currently, I have a fever, a sore throat, pounding headache, clogged sinuses and dia-- diah.. the shits. So, as you might imagine, it didn't feel too great when I read this letter and laughed my fucking ass off. But I just HAD to crawl out of my Nyquil-induced fog to come and post a reply to you anyway.
You have got to be one of the biggest fucking dumbshits that has ever sent me an e-mail. Seriously. Do you know how many people have a lock of a dead relative's hair in a Bible somewhere? YES, it's customary, you stupid fuck.
It's a lock of HAIR, idiot. No, it's not anything like cutting off her fucking finger, you dumbass. Jeez... Somewhere in all my old shit, I have a lock of hair from my first love. At least, I assume it's still there somewhere. Keeping a lock of hair from someone you love is a sweet sentimental thing, not some morbid excercize.
You can rest assured that your friend just thinks you're the biggest dipshit he's ever met, not that there's anything wrong with him. And he's right. Next time, before you blow up at your mourning friend, why don't you just stop for a minute to consider that maybe YOU'RE the dumbass little ignorant troll.
All My Loathing,