| | Dear Fellow Motorists of 95 South,
Your cringing faces said everything. I just realized I was one of those people. You know, the ones who decide to eat their greasy McMeals on the ride home, because they JUST CAN'T WAIT to sit down at a table with a fork in hand and their dignity intact. I'm so sorry.
Dear New Digs,
I love you. I don't care if about the mice running around in the ceiling or the thermostat's inability to go above 59 degrees or the mismatching floor tiles. You're perfect.
Dear Chivalry,
You only exist when automatic door openers for the handicapped are present. Thank you to all the kind gentleman, who go miles out of their way and make the grueling effort to push it.
Dear Favorite Pants,
You're getting ridiculous. I'm holding out as long as I can so I don't have to go through those arduous, depressing dressing room sessions whose only purpose is to enlighten me about my awkward proportions. But, really...the well-placed tear right under my crotch has grown to a noticeable size. I could birth a child without taking my pants off. Maybe not a child, but a four month old fetus would totally fit through.
Dear Shia Labeouf,
Let's take a moment to remember where you came from before you became attractive to the masses. You played the mascot on Freaks and Geeks. A giant viking mascot. I mean, this is still more than I will probably amount to in my life, but let's not get to cocky.
Dear Michael Shea,
I heard you got a motorcycle (which I hate). With a sidecar (WHICH I LOVE). Let's make this a reality:
Love,
J. Devine
P.S. I doubt I can get back into the hang of this.
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| | Posted 9/6/2007 2:02 AM - 92 Views - 18 eProps - 14 comments
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