Sex is a game for two. Sometimes three or more.

The letter request:

I’m looking for work and saw my dream job advertised but I noted applications had closed a few days earlier. I phoned the company and asked if they would accept a late application, explained my qualifications and gave a bit of history. They said they would like me to apply so I pulled an all-nighter and submitted the next day. Two hours later I received an email advising I had not been successful.

 

The letter:

Dear HR Manager,

Sex is a game for two. Sometimes three or more, sometimes one, but often two. When someone fakes an orgasm, it is generally for the benefit of the other person involved. There is no great enjoyment to be had from faking extreme pleasure; it’s just something one might occasionally do to make someone else feel better about their performance. Altruism, you might call it, for want of a better word.

Last week I applied for a job with your company. We spoke on the phone prior to my applying and you seemed enthused by my experience and credentials. You said, ‘Yes! Please Apply! Just make sure your application is in by 5pm tomorrow.’ I spent many hours writing, gave considered thought to each of your selection criteria, sought consult from friends, checked in with potential referees and finessed my resume. I spent a few hours daydreaming the logistics which in this case involved imagining myself resigning from my current role, imagining myself moving across the country to take up the position, imagining the impact on my relationship – you get the drift. I was quite excited.

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You HAD a bird called Drazic

The letter request:

I recently house sat for a friend and of course my cat came to stay too. The only problem is that my friend who I was house sitting for had a bird, and one day when I left the birds cage open my cat somehow managed to catch the bird whilst I was out of the room. My friend is going to be distraught when she finds out, and I thought it would ease the blow if I could give her an apology letter from my cat upon her return. Can you help me out?

 

The letter:

Dear Allee,

Let’s talk about what a great friend Sophie is to you. As her cat, I know I’m biased but all the same she IS pretty ace. Remember how you guys used to love watching Puberty Blues? Or how you went to Turkey together? Or what about the time you both stalked that boy? CLASSIC! So many happy memories of that ilk. SO MANY.

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Unreconstructed 70s male

The letter request:

Dave is an English dude who has lived in Portugal for six years, he’s divorced and is now around 50yrs old. He’s kinda stayed sexist in that old fashioned, women-belong-in-the-kitchen, hasn’t-realised-he’s-old-yet-and-still-perves-on-young-girls kinda way and I think he needs a kick in the arse to wake up and realise that the world is more progressive than the time warp he seems to be stuck in.

 

The letter:

Dear Dave,

Elvis is dead. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but it’s better you hear it from me than some complete stranger. Also, John Lennon is dead too. Double whammy. Take a moment to regroup, I can wait.

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The alcopops stay in the fridge

The letter request:

Virgin Mobile keeps sending me bills for $0.00. I’ve called them several times and they’ve confirmed over the phone that I have no outstanding payments due, but the bills for zero dollars keep coming. Now they’ve sent me a final notice which threatens to cut off my service if I don’t pay them… nothing. Please help.

 

The letter:

Dear Virgin Mobile,

The history of numbers goes back a long way. I saw a documentary about this once – it was really interesting despite the crappy re-enactments. It’s pretty complex but, in a nutshell, the earliest known base 10 system (they system we use today) dates back to 3100 BC in Egypt.

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Girls far and wide

The letter request:

Can you write a letter to all the girls out there who missed out on meeting my husband before I did and then I’ll give it to him as a love letter?

 

The letter:

Dear Girls Far and Wide,

This letter is one of commiseration and is in no way intended to be a declaration of triumph. I write because I genuinely feel for you. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because my heart aches for the girls of Australia. The girls of Canada. The girls of France. Indonesia. All of South East Asia. The girls of every single country that has at some point hosted Jonathan. Girls who could have sat next to him on a bus, got chatting, exchanged numbers, one thing leading to another… Girls who could have been his best mate’s pretty cousin for whom he had the hots. Girls who could have worked in the same office as him and pashed him in the photocopy room at the Christmas party.

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Lubricate your eyeballs

The letter request:

I’ve just turned 25, I’ve never had a proper job in my life (i am not including cooking and barrista-ing for 4 years), I’m doing a doco course that i LOVE but that freaks me out (spending every day wondering am i good enough to even try to be a filmmaker?). I also do not have any skills, other than my cafe skills, that would help me support myself. So i need a letter that tells me it’s ok to be so utterly confused about life, money and career at the age of 25. oh and that i will, one day, meet a person to fall in love with! and that it’s not that I’m a complete weirdo, it’s just that i’m special.

 

The letter:

Dear Vessal,

Congratulations on recently turning 25 – wow! That’s awesome. It’s such a fantastic age to be. But also, I’m afraid, an age of robust introspection and rampant bewilderment. Some questions that may have flittered across your mind’s eye of late are sure to have included the following:

a) What am I doing with my life?
b) Do I have any prospect of succeeding in what I really want to be doing?
c) Am I good enough?
d) What is art?
e) Is art important? (as deemed by Nicole Kidman at the 2003 Academy Awards)
f) Should I explore back-up career options?
g) What am I doing with my life?

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Crops in Tuvalu

The letter request:

I just had the most bizarre experience with the dry cleaner, could you write to tell him that he’s an idiot?

 

The letter:

Dear Drycleaner,

I write in relation to our recent altercation. I’ll remind you of who I am because I suspect that you are the type to have altercations with customers so often that they all become a blur.

Me (pretty lady with long eyelashes)You lost my belt? Really?
You (grumpy man with bad attitude)- Yep.
M- Oh dear. What are you going to do now?
Y- Wait a week or so and see if it turns up.
M- Well, I can’t wear that coat without a belt.
Y- (Bored yawn)
M- I catch public transport so I need that coat this week.
Y- Have you searched your car?
M- No. You already said that you lost it. (getting a little angry by now, I must admit) What will I wear to work? I only have one coat.
Y- Hmmph. I don’t believe you only have one coat.
M-  I do only have one coat!
Y- God, if this is stressing you, you must lead a pretty charmed life! Why don’t you turn on SBS tonight and have a look at people who have real problems.

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