February 13th, 2003
Dear Justin,
I have decided it may finally be time for you to seek professional help. Now, we both know I couldn’t care less about your mental or emotional health, but lately, I’ve been seeing some things that I find quite disturbing.
I know I said I wouldn’t bring up your whiney brokenhearted bullshit, but well… I feel like this can’t be ignored any longer.
Your newest video premiered on MTV the other day, and I am mildly concerned. See… I understand that you’re angry and hurt, but well… breaking into someone’s house, peeping on them while they shower, destroying their belongings and humping some random skank in their bed is what you’d call a little insane. And I know a lot of people will find that whole thing poetic. I however, think it’s a cry for help. So, I’ve taken the liberty of looking up some good psychiatrists, and attached their phone numbers.
Now, before you get all pissy… take a deep breath and calm down. And don't even think of plotting revenge on me for that comment either. We're on the third floor and if a window breaks, they usually think someone's trying to kill themselves. Then the cops will be here and wonder why Justin Timberlake is trying to break into Sarah Lawrence. Are you really prepared to answer that? I think not.
So, in the future… when a girl cheats on you, before you lash out, think of the message you’ll be sending. Cause all that videos shows is that when you are scorned, you will stalk your ex. You’ll probably never get laid again after that, I hope you know. Women will just be afraid of you. Which, they should be already, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway… I had a date the other night. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I felt compelled to share. He’s in one of my art history classes, and he was nice, and charming and you know what… I was bored shitless. All he wanted to talk about was art, which… ok fine. Yes, I love art, I love talking about it, looking at it, creating it… you’d be hard pressed to find something about art that I don’t love. But, it’s not like that’s all I’ve got to say, you know?
I read, I listen to music, I see movies, I have friends and family, and a whole list of interesting things I could talk about. And this guy didn’t want to hear any of it. So… it goes without saying, but… there won’t be a second date.
Hopefully that will cheer you up some. My pathetic excuses at dating seem to amuse everyone else, so you should be no exception.
-Norah
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March 18th, 2003
Dear Norah,
You’re probably the only person who could interpret that video into some creepy shit. You know what your problem is? You can’t ever take things at face value. You gotta analyze it and make it weirder than it actually is. Part of your charm, I guess.
Anyway…all things considered, I’m dealing with this whole break-up thing fairly well. I acted like a douche and treated everybody like shit for awhile, but I’m in the process of getting over it. The way I see it now is… this was my first real relationship, you know? It was bound to end at some point, and I should have realized that. I took it way too seriously, and once I figured that out, I was able to start moving forward.
I think I may even start dating again soon.
Speaking of which… are you really that surprised your date didn’t work out? I mean… this guy sounds like a fucking tool Nor. You’re entirely too damn stubborn to date those art school geeks. You need to be with somebody who will put up with your bullshit, and give it right back to you. Those guys have no interest in that kind of shit. They just want to take you to art showings, and have you look pretty while they stand around and bullshit. So yes… I think you need to re-evaluate what you consider boyfriend material.
-Justin
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May 1st, 2003
Justin,
Ok… let’s back up for a second. One, there is no specific type that I consider “boyfriend material.” Two, “art school geeks” are the kind of people I like spending my time with, and I happen to be one of them, so… shut your trap.
Also… I think you’re about the last person who should be doling out dating advice at this point, so I’m just gonna leave it at that.
However, I’m glad you’re getting over that mess. That whole whiney/brooding thing doesn’t suit you so well. You aren’t Robert Smith, after all. (You should look into getting your hair done like his though, might improve your looks.)
You know… maybe I don’t want somebody who will put up with my bullshit. Maybe I want someone to just say “Hey Norah… you’re being kind of an asshole right now, so… stop.” Bet you never thought of that, did ya?
I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. Why does the sort of person I do or do not want to date even matter?
So yeah… moving along…
Trace called the other day. Which I was fairly surprised about. And he was actually nice to me. But, I’m beginning to think he doesn’t like you very much. Apparently you give him all sorts of work to do, and he finds this unacceptable. Honestly, the thought of Trace doing any sort of actual work amuses the hell out of me, so keep that up, will you? He’s quite hilarious when he’s whining.
-Norah
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June 15th, 2003
Norah,
You’re not an art school geek. You’re… well… ok, fine… you are an art school geek. But not like, the way most of them are.
When I think art school geek… I think of somebody who does nothing but draw, and talk about what a cruel, evil world we live in. So… as far as I’m concerned, you aren’t a typical art school geek. You do wear black a lot though, and that’s kinda fuckin weird.
So Trace has resorted to bitching to you, huh? I swear to god… if he wasn’t my best friend, I’d fire his stupid ass. He’s got it in his head that working for me should be some big fucking party, and he’s so damn wrong. Believe it or not, I work really fucking hard. And as my assistant, he needs to do the same. There’s a lot of shit involved in keeping this stuff running smoothly.
Life would have been so much easier if I could have hired you.
And who you want to date does matter. Cause… well… I like to know this shit, alright? I’ve known you for 20 friggen years… if anybody knows who you should or shouldn’t be dating, it’s me. And as your friend, I demand veto power on these potential boyfriends. I’m not gonna sit back and watch while you date some prick who doesn’t even remotely deserve to come within 400 feet of you. So there, that’s why it matters.
-J
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June 30th, 2003
Justin,
Sometimes, I am convinced someone else is writing these stupid ass letters for you. There is absolutely no way the curly haired freak I grew up with is this nice.
And more to that point… since when do you give two shits who deserves me? You hate me, remember?
Do you not recall tearing the heads off of my Barbies, or wrecking my brand new bike, and purposely bending the handlebars? How about the time you and Trace tried to drown me in the pool? Better yet… what about the great hand soap and pizza incident?
I’ll have you know… it took three days for the swelling in my tongue to go down. I mean seriously… what kind of sick, sadistic asshole covers a slice of pizza in liquid hand soap, then feeds it to an eight year old girl?
So… based on those, and the thousands of other times you tortured the hell out of me… it’s not your place to give a shit who I date, or who has the right to date me.
I think your break-up has caused some sort of nervous breakdown. Because you just don’t make sense anymore.
Not that you ever really did, but you know where I’m going with this.
Anyway… can we please talk about something else from this point forward? Because this is all getting very confusing, and I’m not a fan of that feeling.
-Norah
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July 8th, 2003
Norah,
For a girl who’s supposed to be so damn smart, you really are fucking stupid sometimes.
I think I’ve been pretty obvious with this shit, but since you’re either just a god damn retard, or really not picking up on it, I’m going to be as blunt as humanly possible.
I like you. I kind of always have.
All the shit I did to you when we were kids was to get your attention. Being nice never really worked, but acting like a shithead seemed to do the trick, so that’s what I stuck with. And you know… it fucking amazes me that you’ve never figured it out, because it’s been so damn obvious from day one.
I mean… I’m not gonna sit here and say I’m in love with you, or some corny bullshit like that, but there are legitimate feelings behind what I’m saying. And I don’t know what the hell you’ll say, or how you’ll react. I’ve thought up a million different ways to slide this into a letter, or call you, and nothing seemed right.
It was all either too goddamn lame, or it sounded like I was just being an asshole.
So, now that it’s all out in the open… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say or do. I’d love to be the guy who can just show up and take you on a really kick ass date, but I think we both know that’s not possible.
I mean… I guess you could fly out and see me, or something. But I’ve got this really funny feeling you won’t do that. Hell… there’s a pretty good chance you’re going to think I’m high, laugh, then ignore this all together.
And if that’s what you want to do… I’m not gonna stop ya. I’m not gonna get down on my hands and knees and beg you to go out with me. I’m just going to ask, and you can answer however you damn well please. Which you’d do anyway, but… whatever.
I’m rambling and not making sense now. So… Norah… when the opportunity comes up, I’d like for us to go out. How about it?
-J
