Dear Oblivious,

Well hello there, Edward Penishands. We so appreciate your half-assed effort at cleaning your hands after you just finished jiggling your junk at the urinal. So much admiration for your adherence to the Public Bathroom Douchebaggery Commandments.

Thou shall perform the obligatory split-second splash of water on the finger tips of one hand: Check
Thou shall not apply any soap under any circumstances: Check
Thou shall place the semi-wet hand under hand dryer: Check
Thou shall touch every observable communal surface before exiting the restroom: Check

Hey asshole, if I felt like touching your junk I'd offer you a handjob. Do you realize your hand isn't clean? That your dick germs are not only still on your hand but now on public surfaces that others must come in contact with? Do you give a shit about anyone around you? Maybe we don't want your germs?

It's people like you that force people like me to exit a public bathroom with a wad of paper towel protecting my hand. It's people like you that make people like me refuse to touch a ketchup bottle or the salt shaker in a restaurant without a napkin barrier. It's people like you that make people like me wash my hands in near-boiling water 57 times a day.

Because you're fucking disgusting. Wash your fucking hands, dickbag.

Truly,

People For Cock-Free Surfaces

Dear Oblivious,

Searching this rack for a belt here at Target, I can't help but notice you are shirtless. How can this be? Well it seems you've found a few shirts you'd like to purchase, and like any smart shopper you want to be sure they fit before pulling the trigger. It all went wrong when you decided that rather find a fitting room, you're going to do this right. fucking. here.

New to public spaces, are we? Absent from school the week they went over basic etiquette and decorum? Not aware that there are fittings rooms constructed and designed specifically for this purpose? Is the thirty-foot walk to the fitting room too far? Are you hoping that someone scouting for the cast of the next Magic Mike movie is shopping here? While there are indeed a few people in this world I'd like to see with no shirt on, I assure you, you aren't one of them.

Call me crazy, but I like to think I'm the only one to have ever put on the clothes I'm buying. Perhaps a tad unrealistic I know, but still, this notion comforts me. Having now had the benefit of seeing you stuff your Axe-laden, sweaty figure into that shirt, not only am I now not in the mood to shop for clothes, I want to Febreze my eyeballs and memory.

Do us all a favor next time: have a little decorum and use the fucking fitting room.

Sincerely,

The Clothed People Around You


P.S. "XS" means extra small, not extra sexy. Try picking something that fits, asshole.

Dear Oblivious,

Despite popular belief, I think you're extremely talented. Not everyone has mastered standing in front of a toilet and landing urine on everything but the inside of the bowl. Some on the seat, some on the floor... I bet 'America's Got Talent' is looking for talents just like you.

Sarcasm aside for the moment, your indifference to others around you is quite clear. It doesn't seem you've considered the person after you who may need to sit down on that seat or the person tasked with cleaning up. Is it really that hard to lift the damn lid? Or heaven forbid, maybe clean up after yourself?

As a kid I watched Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers, and I sang along with puppets and characters who preached manners and taught us the alphabet. I went to preschool and kindergarten, where good behaviors were further encouraged through cooperative activity and positive reinforcement. I suppose you watched Sesame Street and came away jealous of Oscar because he got to live in a garbage can.

Take your head out of your ass. No one wants to look at your piss.

Sincerely,

Everyone Around You


P.S. The hue of your urine suggests you have an infection.

Dear Oblivious,

There must be thirty three available parking spots towards the rear of the lot and you've spent the past five minutes driving up and down the aisles like you're on a go-kart course. You're now driving on the back of my heels as I walk to my car; presumably hoping I'm parked within the first ten to fifteen spots? Please enlighten us, where exactly is this golden parking spot you seek?

With this being a Kohl's parking lot I totally understand your frustration in discovering there is no valet parking. Rest assured I'm going to be writing a strongly-worded letter in addition to getting a petition started to address this injustice. I hope I can rely on your support and signature.

Until we get that sorted out, maybe you could just park your car and walk another sixty feet ?

Sincerely,

The Heels of My Shoes

Dear Oblivious,

Hands down, you're everyone's' favorite person at the grocery store. Your fellow shoppers love it when you meander down a narrow and congested aisle with your cart while FaceTiming. The resulting chaos around you is truly food for the spirit. The sense of fulfillment we feel upon successfully navigating around you is surpassed only by the thrill of standing behind you, listening to your inane drivel as you block off access to the bananas.

Any by all means, please get in the express checkout lane with your 29 items. Then top off the experience for us by leaving your empty shopping cart in a handicapped parking spot.

You rock.

Sincerely,

Us Annoying Maggots You Share This Planet With

Dear Oblivious,

Yes, we all hear you stomping down the office halls, punishing the floors all day long. We all know who it is without turning to look. As many of us have given up trying to concentrate and get a little work done, we're instead surveying one another to discern whether this sounds more like a herd of elephants chasing a herd of elephants or a gang of midgets practicing mma in the copy room.

Have you ever hear of sneakers or flat-soled shoes?

Sincerely,

Everyone Within 30 Yards of You With the Ability To Hear