Since many of these would be downright awful to say in person, I feel this is a safe place to rant. Lord knows she doesn't care enough to look at my deviantART page.

No, really. If you don't shut up right shortly, I'll kill you.

When you get up in the morning, not only can I hear you walk across the floor, I can feel it. It's like Jurassic Park. Good Lord.

One day I'm going to kill you and take all the money you keep bragging about. Then I'll FedEx your corpse to Africa and end world hunger.

You make me wish I was a boy so I'll never again have a roommate who is obsessed with Gossip Girl and the like.

You know that annoying clicking noise you make with your mouth? Yeah. Do it again and I'll punch you.

Your obsession with Edward Cullen/Twilight almost makes me hate vampires. And I love me some vampires.

Your tendency to sing horribly along with Christian worship music and right in the middle of it yell "OH SHIT" or some such expletive was only amusing for about the first 5 minutes.

Speaking of your hypocrisy, it's rather frustrating. I've never seen you read a Bible, or even touch one for that matter. And you're so narrow-minded that I want to punch you in the face. Hmm. I seem to have a lot of reasons to punch you in the face. I should get on that.

I'm sure that someone somewhere deep down inside (realllllyyy deep down) finds it endearing that you talk EVERY FREAKING SECOND OF EVERY DAY.

Speaking of the fact that you never shut up, who talks to movie characters? (Screams is more like it.) Hint: THEY CANNOT HEAR YOU. Dumb bitch.

When I lock you out of the room and blast music so I can't hear your screams, you're supposed to take offense. Oh well. It was fun nonetheless.

What's your major again? Accounting? Damn, I feel sorry for any client of yours. You're dumb as a sack of rocks. I wouldn't trust you with simple multiplication and division. (Walker has pointed out that this is an insult to rocks everywhere, for which I apologize.)

I understand that you love cute adorable little things. But honestly, there's no need to scream. Nothing is THAT cute.

You're a spoiled brat. But you knew that already.

By the way, thanks for being obsessed enough with holidays to have cute little sticky letters on the mirror that I can manipulate. The original letters for this season normally say "Let it snow!" My suitemates and I have rearranged them to spell "Le tits now," "Ol wet shit," "Touch me" (accompanied by a diagram of a penis), and "Let's fuck!"

Guess who loves country music? Guess who hates it with the intensity of a thousand suns?

Your feet smell TERRIBLE. Thank God you're getting in the shower.

For someone with so much designer shit, you can't dress yourself worth a damn. Oh, and Uggs are still ugly as hell.

I call you Marge the Barge. But only sometimes.

That is all for now. I'm sure I can add to this later.