Broke-ass hippie bitch from Eugene: I knew your nappy-ass dreads were trouble when I saw you. Your cheap ass had a coupon and wanted to check into my hotel without a valid credit card. When I informed you of our policy (no cash, because only whores and druggies pay for a room with cash), and before I even ran your broke-ass card, you tell me policies were meant to be broken, and to cut you some slack because you're a single mom. So I ran your card, hoping it would go through for the sake of the ugly, snot-nosed brat with you. But no, of course it was declined, and when I told you I couldn't check you in, you got pissy, like the whiny hippie that you are, and called me names and stormed out the door, speeding out of the parking lot. Was it really my fault that you are a broke ass and have no finance management skills? No, and another thing: I can guarantee you that my engagement ring cost more than your crappy station wagon, and probably the crappy little shack you live in. Was that the real reason you were such a bitch? I noticed you couldn't take your eyes off it. Have fun being a single mom. I will be having a blast with my rich husband and no kids. —Anonymous