Dear Nina

Dear Nina,

Last night, all of your inferiority complexes got together at my house.  All 58 of us.  Needless to say, we were all in an uproar about your post yesterday.  Your sentimental, schmaltzy, feel-good, I’m-okay-you’re-okay post.  They voted me, Ms. Loudmouth Lime inferiority complex, spokesman for the group.  (Editor’s note:  I’ll give a dollar to the first person who posts a comment and explains where Ms. Lime’s name came from.)

Let me first say this:  Who are you trying to kid?   Huh, huh, huh? You think one, single, solitary post on your blog will take away all 58 of your inferiority complexes?  Like, ha! You are so naive.

We want you to know that we do not like you speaking so publicly about us.  Don’t you know we prefer the dark, damp, cobweb strewn hidden recesses of your mind to the stark broad daylight of the Internet?  You made us v-e-r-y uncomfortable — and let me assure you: you won’t like it when that happens.  When your neurotic complexes are made public, we link arm-in-arm and get stronger.  We also multiply.  (That’s because we like math.) You thought 58 complexes were bad.  How do you feel about 240?  That’s the number we are up to now.  And we’re growing by the minute.  Revenge is sweet.

You know your complex about your behemoth size?  We’re here to tell you that you are like TOTALLY correct in your beliefs.  You are as svelte as a 2 ton bag of Idaho spuds.  Well, maybe not that svelte.

And your complex about your huge, German-like nose.  Your nose is as perky and petite as George Washington’s nose at Mount Rushmore.  I’m here to confirm that your schnozolla is indeed big.

Your foot-in-mouth inferiority complex?  For you, there is absolutely no cure under heaven.  Regardless of what you think, there is no way that you’ll be able to control your tongue.  It’s in a too wet and slipper place to make any improvements.

You know your inferiority complex about how un-crafty you are?  Well, Ms. Non-crafty complex about peed her pants when she read your blog.  (Ms. Ima Martyr complex had to clean up the mess and she was not happy.  Not happy at all, let me tell you.)  Ms. Non-crafty complex knew that you were just deluding yourself by all of your fancy, shmancy words yesterday.  No amount of verbiage, no amount of high falutin’ sesquipedalias will ever add craft dexterity to your fingers.  Never.  As in never, ever, ever, ever, and a day never.  So, sleep on that for a while.

I could go on all day about the grievances that we have with you.  But I don’t have time.  Your Ms. Type A complex is forcing me to be more productive and to stop wasting my time writing to you.  She knows that this letter won’t make you change a thing.  She’s tried to change you a gazillion, bazillion, trazillion, wazillion times before but you are too entrenched in your ways.  How sad.  We feel bad for you.

Hugs and kisses,
Your Inferiority Complexes (all 240 of us)