04 August 2009

Things I'm not allowed to yell out my window or say in a letter

Dear City of Laramie:

I realize that America's quest to become foreign oil-independent has led to some creative finagling from a lot of angles by a lot of people, but attempting to regrow asphalt is just a dumb idea. So please stop watering the streets surrounding Washington Park and stick to actually watering the grass. It needs it much more than the pavement does, and I'm tired of having to run on the other side of the street to escape an unwanted shower from your deficient sprinkler system.

Dear Coworker:

Stop coughing. Seriously. Stop. Specifically, stop coughing on my pages. Stop coughing in your hand and then wiping it on my pages. Stop sneezing in your hand and then wiping it on my pages. Stop chewing/sucking on your fingers and then wiping them on my pages. Just stop.

Dear The Bloggess:

(Actually, I did write this letter. Never mind.)

Dear Weight Watchers:

Stop sending me flyers and coupons. It's like you assume that my absence from your scales automatically indicates figure-management failure on my part, which doesn't say much for your confidence in people's ability to manage their weight without a weekly Come-to-Jesus meeting. I'm insulted by the never-ending stream of mailers begging me to get back on track.

Dear Motorolla:

There's a special place in hell reserved for the person who built my phone.

Dear Toddler Cleverly Disguised as My Middle-Aged Neighbor:

There are other bands in the world in addition to Journey. I suggest you check them out. With headphones. Also, you can't sing. You never could. Cease your warbling.

Dear Whiny Brat Next Door:

Keep up the fake wailing/bawling/screaming. Keep it up. I just may find the resolution to "accidentally" knock a flower pot out my window. It would be very satisfying.

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