Dear So and So...

 

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2010

http://www2.blogblog.com/rounders2/icon_arrow.gif); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; display: block; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 1px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 1px; padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 14px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 29px; color: #333333; font: normal normal bold 135%/normal 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; background-position: 10px 0.5em; border-color: #999999; border-style: dotted; margin: 0px;">Dear So and So...

Dear So and So...    
Dear Market Basket Store Manager,
I want to keep coming back, really I do.  Your prices are far better than my local stores and even somewhat better than your chain competitors.  It's worth it financially for me.  But, man oh man.  It's a rough trip.  And, I'm all for exposing my children to the filth diversity of your plentiful clientele, but not willing to expose them to scurvy.   Where are the Handi-Wipes?  And the mouth masks?   It frightens me.  Really.  
In Cleanliness,
Cindy
Dear Dog,
You know we love you, right?  Hate your hair.  Hate it.  Hate it on my wood floors, hate it on my black clothes, really hate it on my bed.  I know we let you sleep there for six years but it was a lot cuter when you were 10 lbs than it is now that you're 80 lbs and shedding.  Get off.  You have your own bed.  Use it.   There's a pound around the corner and I promise their cold, dank floors are not as comfy as your Orvis bed.
Sincerely,
The One Who Feeds You
Dear Husbands,
Big, heavy bags left at the bottom of staircases mean "pick me up and deliver me to where I belong."   
Sincerely,
The One Who Feeds The Dog Who Is Quickly Running Out of His Kibbles & Bits
Dear DJ Lance Rock,
Your show is weird.  Just plain weird.  You're the Telletubbies of my kids generation.  I don't get it.  Kids love you.  Grown-ups?  Not so much.  And, don't let the Brad Pitt thing go to your head.  He dresses like a homeless person most of the time so your orange jumpsuit was an upgrade.   As soon as I can get my hands on the DVR remote, your days are numbered.  
"Yooooooo!  It's Almost Time To Go!",
Cindy
Dear Libido,
OK.  Kids sleeping through the night.  Lost some weight.  Settled into my new home.  Come on back, old friend.  Welcome.
I'll Leave the Door Unlocked,
Cindy
Dear Oil of Olay,
I've been using you every day since I was about 14.  If you're not helping me look younger too and I'm a wrinkled old raisin at 60, I'm coming after you.   Just sayin'.
With the Better Business Bureau On My Speed Dial,
Cindy

Dear Evan Lysacek,
Saw an interview with you yesterday in which you explained how you aren't like all the other male skaters.  That you are, in fact, quite masculine (gasp).   Here's a tidbit from your interview:


"I think I'm bringing an element of style and showing that this is my idea of what a modern man should dress like and look like," Lysacek explains. "It can still be stylish, but [also] be masculine at the same time."


Are those curly q's on your shoulder blades?  Feathers on your fists?  


Uh huh.

Thanks for the laugh,
Cindy

 

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