Tuesday, September 14, 2010


Dear Preacher and Preacher's Wife Across the Street,

I apologize that you have heard me exclaim "MOTHERFUCKER" so many times in the past couple of days. It seems that you guys just happen to be in your front yard at the exact moment when I do something stupid like drop a bag full of canned onto my bare foot (I have the bruise to prove it), or spill a five pound bag of flour into the sink full of water.

I would say that I'm really not a foul-mouthed hooligan, but that would be a lie. Usually, though, I do try to use my inside voice for most profanities.


Dear Women in Pajamas in Public in the Middle of the Day,

Really? I mean, really? Jeans take so long to put on? Come on, you've got kids, at least try to give the illusion that you still remotely care.


Dear People Who Make Signs or Memos that get Posted in Places,

I'm sure third grade was a long time ago, but let me offer this little refresher - an apostrophe signifies possession ("the girl's dress") or a contraction ("don't look under the bed"), they do not need to be used to herald the arrival of the letter "S".

So if you write up a sign about a "sale on book's", you'd better specify which of the book's possessions is for sale.

Dear Tiny Old Lady Down the Street,

Seeing you taking out your trashcan this morning in your bright yellow Spongebob pajama bottoms made me immeasurably happy (actually, seeing you drag out the trashcan that's the same size as you didn't make me happy, it was the jammies). You are way too adorable and I want to put you on a shelf next to my dolls.


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