dear house of cards...

I don't know if we can be friends anymore. That breaks my heart. Shatters it into a million pieces in fact. See, Frank Underwood is my hero. I love him. I have a very loud and obnoxious crush on him. He is all the sexual things. But, guess what? Even Frank Underwood can't save the train wreck that is Claire. I hate her with every fiber of my being. When I look at her fucking stupid face I dream that you'll push her in front of a train too. But you haven't. Why is that Frank?

I hate Claire Underwood and her stupid bony body and her dumb face and her ugly hair that I can't even stand it. This is so unlike me. In real life I don't think these things about people. And I actually really love Robin Wright. But, fuck, Claire Underwood sucks up any of the wetness Frank creates and she makes my eyes hurt. 

I can't watch the show anymore. Never mind the fact that they killed off my second favourite character. Meechum, I loved you buddy. Why did you have to die? And if you absolutely had to couldn't you have stomped on Claire's head a bit before you did?

House of Cards you were one of the only shows Husband and I could watch together. You bonded us and because Frank is so darn sexy you *may* have improved our sex life. But now... now what? What are we supposed to do with our lives? 

Perhaps we could keep watching even though the atrocity that is Claire Underwood continues to fill our screens with her horrifically uptight dress sense and her stupid hand pose as if she thinks she's better than everyone? But I can't. I just can't. Nobody is sexy enough to make up for the fact that she's a stupid fucking bitch. If Frank can kill Kate Mara then can't he kill her? I mean, really, nobody would even care. She's stupid and self-righteous and could use a good stabbing or two.

I wish this little ranty letter had made me feel better but, alas, it hasn't. Such a shame. I miss you House of Cards but the only way I'm coming back is if you can promise me Claire dies. In fact, if you could dedicate an entire episode {or seventy} to her dying in massive amounts of pain that would be wonderful.


*p.s. I'm not really a psychopath...

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