Dear Man in the Large Gray Pick-up Truck this morning on the way to work,
Really, I understand your dilemma. I mean, seriously? I know you had to cut across two lanes of traffic and whip your huge truck in front of me so you could pull into the parking lot of the Shoney’s restaurant at exactly 7:14am. That “Sunrise Special” is seriously worth killing a mom of two children for.
PS: Bite me.
Dear New Supervisor,
Really, it’s a good thing I’m a sweet Christian woman. Otherwise, I would have shot you in the face approximately three weeks ago.
In addition to your chest hair and tight pants issues, I would appreciate if you could occasionally stop talking. As you can see, I am attempting to work, EVEN AS YOU CONTINUE TO TALK. Therefore, you should conclude that either I have a lot of work to do, or you are really boring and I don’t want to talk to you. Or both.
Pssstt...It’s probably both.
Also? When I have a very long conversation with you regarding the issues that I have with people expecting me to drop everything and attend to their needs right.that.second and you act like you understand and then you come back less than ten minutes later and say, “I told such and such that you could give training on Monday morning at 8:15am”? Well, you are lucky you are still in possession of both of your testicles.
Oh, and one other thing? Never, ever, EVER start a story with, “Me and my mom were at this restaurant,” because even if you were with your mom at the restaurant, you are forty years old and need to cut the umbilical cord. Also? It was all I could do to not LAUGH IN YOUR FACE when you told me that the twenty-year old waitress at the restaurant was being friendly and you were thinking of asking her out. DUDE. She’s a waitress. She’s friendly so you will give her money. She does not think you are hot.
That Chick who is NOT YOUR SECRETARY
PS: You are so not hot. NOT EVEN. Your MOM doesn't even think you're hot.
Dear Blue Momma,
It’s not stalking since I like you so much.
Dear All the people who have asked,
No. I’m not related to Gene Simmons from KISS.
Thanks for asking,
Dear Ginger, my sixty-six pound puppy,
For the love of Corndogs and Tater tots could you please stop burping in my face?
Good Lord woman, what died in your lower intestine?
Your Alpha Female
PS: It’s a good thing you are cute.
PS: Oh sod it. Do you want a treat? I have treats!
I miss you and can’t wait to see you at Thanksgiving when you will surely tell me stories of hilarity that involve Wilfred Brimley, Tab, and Agent Orange.
My sides already hurt in anticipation.
Love you smoochie!
Your Old Sis
What, you again? Gah!
Why do you have to be on a MONDAY this year? Can’t we just always skip Monday birthdays? Even Tuesdays are better than Mondays. Monday is like, blah. Tuesday is like, “We’re still blah, but by God, we aren’t Monday!”
Also? Why do I have to be so freaking old and have so much freaking gray hair?
Why do I have to look at my little baby in her blue jeans with her legs up to her neck and think, “GOOD LORD WHERE DID MY PRECIOUS LITTLE GIRL GO?” And then, you know, start crying.
Can’t you just slow down some? Please?
To the person who found my blog by searching for, “Revenge on sleeping husband stick a tampon up his butt”,
That’s about all I have to say about that.
Thanks, I guess, for visiting. I kind of doubt you found what you needed here.
You are Ninja warriors. I bow to you.
Because I? Have the grace of a plane crash. A large, messy one.
So I am in awe of you. And how cool you are.
Also? You stink pretty good and I love you.
And? You don’t look at me weird when I run through the house going, “BLAH! BLAH!” and waving my arms around. Because that’s how I roll and you get that.
Therefore, you are the best people alive.