Open letters: Now with extra wang!

Dear Man with the minuscule penis parked in the drop-off lane at the Elementary school,

You know, I honestly don’t know how small your penis actually is, but judging by the fact that not only are you driving the largest most yellow Hummer I’ve ever seen, you parked it squarely in the middle of the drop-off lane (lanes, I should say, since you blocked both sides), got out of the vehicle, and then went into the school for God knows what reason, I’m going to guess that it would require an electron microscope to see it.

Sir, the entire premise of a drop-off lane is so that people can, you know, DROP THEIR CHILDREN OFF in front of the school. Not have to sit there waiting while you go inside to floss your butt hair or whatever it is you were doing.

And yes, I understand it was raining this morning. Clearly, you will not melt and you are a complete douchehat to be so concerned about getting your wee little precious self wet. Grow a pair and get your shirt wet. Or, you know, get out your My Little Pony umbrella.

Screw you.

-That Chick





Dear Wad who works down the hall from me,

Dude. It’s 9am. Why are you eating onions?

And not just any onions. Onions so offensive that I can smell them the moment I step out into the hall. Onions so vile that the tiny little hairs in my nose began to curl.

I like onions just fine. I do not like them at 9am.

Stop it, stinky man.

Thanks!
That Chick



Dear guy who is cursing in the hall,

You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Knock it off.

-Chick





Dear son,

You know, when I found out I was pregnant with twins I prayed to God I would have two girls.

Because I didn’t, and don’t, understand boys.

Boys to me are one of those great mysteries of life, much like spray-on bedliners and Hair in a can. When I found out I was having a son I was terrified. I don’t understand bugs and eating things you stuck in your pocket last week or even football.

Somehow, though, it’s all worked out pretty good.

What’s weird is that even though you have a penis, you and I are pretty much alike. We both are sensitive and funny and seem to take great pleasure in laughing at the world around us, especially when it includes something goofy we’ve done. Neither of us seem to have a problem laughing at ourselves, and really? I think it’s a gift. It’s like this amazing gift that we get to share. That’s why I always laugh when you accidentally fart, even though your farts stink something awful.

It really amazes me how much I have come to respect and appreciate you in only nine short years. Especially considering how very much you seemed to hate me the first year of your life. You are always the one who encourages me to walk another mile when I feel like I can’t. You always eat everything I give you and act like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had, ever. And you? Come up with the best, most elaborate revenge fantasies ever. I mean, an angry monkey in a box? Genius.

So, thanks kid. For giving me hope for men everywhere.

Love,
Your old mom