Dear……………

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Dear Bluehost Oh-Great-Server-Of-All-Crappy-Servers,

Many years ago, when I came to you, you were amazing. The customer service was friendly, the people eager to help, you even solved a problem for me that I was amazed at..the site was ALWAYS on. But bluehost, 3 years later, you have failed me…no! You have FAILED me. While you have offered up unlimited bandwidth and unlimited space, you have not allowed any of your sites that have more then 10 people going to it, to post freely and with resources they need.

Oh, Bluehost…how I will not miss the CPU usage messages, the server down, the suspended messages…and I definitely wont miss the sarcastic a**holes that tell me its my fault that the site “has issues” (none of which you could ever pinpoint to me as an example) when I call to figure out the problem. We are so sorry you cant handle the contests, or the people, maybe, just maybe, we are too cool for you.

And bluehost, I really hate that you made it So incredibly difficult to switch hosters, that you kept pulling me out of the FTP all day so it took over 12 hours to move a blog and a forum. I missed Americans Next Top Model last night over you. And for that, I am breaking up with you.

TTYN-

Trisha

Dear Hostgator- if you cannot keep this site up, im suing you for violating my unlimited bandwidth and unlimited space that I just bought. K? I’m serious. Don’t make me go www.ImGonnaKillAHOster.com on you.

~Trisha

Dear Lady At Wafflehouse with Gstring up your back-

My family decided to go out and have a good old waffle house meal, we thought, yum…$10 for three of us to get some waffles and eggs. We picked a rainy night, when no one was there…but you. You ,lady-with-pink-thong. As we entered the very well lit Waffle house, your back was to us, and you sat on the bar stool leaning forward. Your 16 year old jeans in your 40 year old body, hugging on tight, tempting to slip to your knees or perhaps wanting to get away…and oh, the site we saw.

Your G string just crawling up your back, in a feverish attempt to cling to what butt i tcould find. I chuckle dear waffle house girl…your flirting with the cook, the “mommy , why can I see that ladies underwear” questions, the fact that you were not even oblivious to it, just that you didn’t care- in fact, I dare say you were mooning me on purpose.  I can say…that fry cook did grill up a mean set of hashbrowns, but he will never go home with you if can see the goodies before he gets there….thank you for allowing me to throw up in my mouth a little that night. Atleast it tasted like waffles.

~trisha

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