Matt Bushell, You Owe me $12.95

Dear Matt (yes this is being addressed directly to you):

You are a fuckwit. I hate you with all of my being. Oh wait. Sorry, I typed Dear Matt and thought I was writing to my ex. His name is Matt too.

Ok. Let's start over.

Dear Matt BUSHELL, not Ex-Matt the Douchebag:

You are a fuckwit. I do not hate you, but I am annoyed that you are such a difficult person to get in touch with. Because in order to get your mailing address, I had to pay for a service that I don't really want. Now, if this service involved Rob baking me cupcakes, or you initiating #TheHookup, we'd be cool. But it doesn't. It simply involved facilitating a way for me to get your mailing address. Now that I have said address in my hot little mitts, I don't need this service any more. But you know what I forgot to do? I forgot to cancel the service. So that means that my poor, abused, empty bank account got charged $12.95 yesterday. Now I know that to a big, important, bald actor like yourself this may seem like small potatoes. But to an over educated, irresponsible budgeter, state-worker like myself, that's 2 nights of dinner. So needless to say I was a little upset when I went to check my balance yesterday and saw that there was a random $12.95 missing. I cursed you. Out loud. And that makes me sad. I don't want to curse you, Matt Bushell. I want to lovingly stroke your bald head until I calm down and then we can go out for milkshakes. Burger King has a new cupcake flavored shake. I haven't tried it yet, and I only know this because I've spent the past 2 months stalking every Burger King in a 50 mile radius for Twi-shit. But I digress. The point of this story is that if you do not contact me soon, not through your agent, not through a droid-written "thanks for being a fan" letter, I may have to resort to drastic measures. It will be worth the $12.95 if you sign up for a Twitter account within the next 17 hours. Otherwise, I may have to reevaluate my love for you.

With all of my love (for the next 17 hours), your biggest phan,

Meg

P.S. I could blame this on Fire Crotch since she programmed a reminder for me to cancel the service into her fancy little phone, but she's been working 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for like, the past forever, so she's off the hook. Come back to us soon FC!!! We lovers you. Hard.