Saturday, April 03, 2010
Thank you for being delicious. Especially with some sauteed veggies, Italian sausage and my favorite sauce. For this fact alone, I will forgive the third degree burns you gave me when you splattered onto me this evening.
Dear Guys Shopping with their Chicks in Cost Plus World Market,
Quit sighing and acting so put out, you're just there to hold stuff, okay? No one expects you to look cool or contribute anything. Go check out the beer selection if you're that bored.
Dear Cost Plus World Market Sea Salt Dark Chocolate Bar,
You're like a religious/sexual/OMGDELICIOUS experience. Can we make out now? Because... really.
Dear My Dog,
I've never claimed to be the best pet owner in the world, but I think, overall, you've got a decent life - you've always got food and water, you get lots of treats, I don't dress you in dumb sweaters*, I buy you lots of chew toys, and I let you take up a big portion of the bed every freaking night. What I'm saying is that your life is probably considerably better than it was at the Humane Society from whence you came.
I feel inclined to inquire, however, why you felt it was necessary to nom the shit out of that white front-hook bra that I like so much, one of the only bras that I own and like because it fits properly. Do you not remember just the other day when I was bitching about how hard it is to find cute bras? I'm not saying this bra was cute cute, but it was kind of cute, cute enough anyway (not like I'm running around showing it off or anything) - the point is - STOP CHEWING ON MY UNDERWEAR. PLEASE AND THANK YOU.
I kind of ___ ___, k?
* Okay, maybe there was once or twice when I dressed you up, but there were no sweaters involved.
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