You perverted beer geek! You are the most annoying regular at the bar where I work. Do you think I don't see the way you look at me or how you watch me? Or that I don't notice you following me around the bar? How dare you stare at the bartender, who is my best friend, just because she is heavier up top than most girls? You walk up and down and zigzag through the bar, supposedly looking at the different television screens, all of which are tuned to the same channel, and every time you manage to get in my way. I hate that stupid, creepy smile that's always on your face, and the way you hold your hands and rub your fingers together, laughing obnoxiously at whatever idiotic thoughts exist inside your head. I'd love to have you kicked out permanently, but management lets you stay because you write about the bar in your stupid magazine. There is no hope. Except for the thought that you'll read this through those crazy bifocals you wear and realize that you're not as welcome here as you think you are.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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