Dear Random Asshole Driver on I-69,
When you choose to drive like a complete asshole, it might be better for your local business if you would choose NOT to advertise said business on your van. I can't imagine that your asshole-ish behavior with cutting people off and tailgating does much in the way of garnering you more business. Did I mention that you are an asshole?
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Dear Arun,
While I love you dearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, I must confess that my love for you peaks between the hours of 8:00 pm and 8:00 am AND the hours of 2:00 pm and 4:00 pm while you are sleeping. Please adjust your schedule accordingly. Shall I mention that Elmo also loves you more during the hours noted?
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Dear Random Condom, Recently Found Skulking In a Drawer,
Too little, too late.
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Dear Pregnancy Hormones-Induced Insomnia,
I am tired of you. Go away. Pun intended.
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Dear Santa,
Baby, I believe. I've defended your honor in the past during my blissful days of Armchair Parening and solemnly vowed even then to teach my kid that you are real. Who cares if I am technically lying to my kid and furthermore, probably "threatening his relationship with God" in order to perpetuate a quaint myth surrounding a Christian saint? You're FUN and add an element of magic and mystery to the season. Damn straight, I'll be sharing that with my kids. So, Christmas Eve, don't worry your wily, whiskered hide - I've got your back.
hohohohohohohohohohohohohoho
Dear Britney,
Regarding BeaverFest 2006, don't get your panties in a twist. How about just wearing them instead?
8 comments:
Dear Cagey,
Perhaps you should send the condom to Britney, for her current lack of underwear situation....?
Heehee.
Dear Cagey,
Since you seem to be on a first name basis with pregnancy-induced maladies, would you put in a good word for me with the morning sickness that has taken over my life and made me literally toss my cookies today? Thanks!
PS: Loved your note to Arun. I have found that my love for my girl also peaks dramatically when she's asleep.
The condom part made me laugh out loud. Hee. Oops.
Santa lives in our house. Santa will ALWAYS live in our house. Even if he's a 5'5" brunette in rumpled jeans and sweatshirt. Those who do not believe get no love come Christmas morning.
I'll be a lying mama, too, because my kids will have Santa just like I have always had. I still get presents from Santa (from my mom);>
What do you mean LYING? You mean Santa's not REAL! SHUT UP!!!
*cry*
Try calling random asshole's business and telling them that you were going to hire them for some large project, but because of the behavior of that driver, who left you in tears, did you mention that you are pregnant? but now you couldn't possibly use their company ever.
Come on, it will be fun.
BeaverFest 2006 - hee! (Yes, I have the psyche of a twelve-year-old.)
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