September 2, 2010
- Dear Wal-Mart- Why must you always put the fat free Cool Whip on the top shelf? You really think you've outsmarted me? I learned how to climb shelves at a very young age, my friend.
- Dear beefed up mantards- Why must you wear those fugly super-tight shirts that show all your muscles? I really hope you don't think it's attractive. Whoever told you that needs to be sucker punched in the nads. Sociology has a term for that. It's called "peacocking." And it makes you a tool. TOOL. You are a tool. Stop it.
- Dear boys that came from my uterus- There is a difference between messy and destructive. I'm cool with messy. I can handle that. Destructive is NOT FUCKING COOL. Seriously. Do you think I enjoy giving you that "Me and your Dad work our asses off to pay the mortgage while you fucktards run around *accidentally* knocking holes in the wall" speech? I don't. It's not fun. I hate being mean. But I don't want holes or dirty hand prints on my walls, either. You guys are just a blink away from being old enough to vote and drive. Get your shit together.
- Dear little neighborhood boy whom I will not name- The same goes for you. I understand your mother is a.....um....is pretty strict, but please stop coming over to my house just because you think it's okay to completely cut loose and run through the house like the Tasmanian devil. Yeah, I will let you cut up and act a fool and all that, but you need to calm the fuck down. Seriously.
- Dear doctors- You are paying for this service. If you continue to eat while dictating, you will continue to get blanks on your reports. I cannot make it any more clear. If you continue to say "apparently" in every single sentence, I will type "apparently" in every single sentence. You will look like a fucking idiot, not me. If you accidentally switch from English to Spanish halfway through your dictation, you will have a huge, gigantic blank. Three years of high school Spanish did nothing for me. Sorry.
- Dear mouse who has set up residence in my fireplace- I'm giving you fair warning. If you don't leave now, you will die. I tried to intervene on your behalf, but Sarge will have none of it. He insists you might carry diseases or have babies. You have approximately 45 minutes, give or take, until he comes home from work. Run now! (psssstt....PLEASE don't fall for the old "cheese on the mouse trap" bit. IT'S A TRAP!!)