Open Letters

Dear Overly Cheerful Starbucks Drive-Thru Guy,

I was hoping you would get the hint before, but apparently I need to spell it out for you. GET OUT OF MY FACE WHILE I AM WAITING FOR MY COFFEE. One of the reasons I go to the drive-thru is to achieve as anonymous a coffee retrieval process as possible. It is early in the morning. Generally one or both of my children are crying. Maybe I have managed to gather a quiet 32 seconds to listen to the radio or hear myself think.

Please stop making awkward conversation. Just take my money, hand me the coffee and let me get the hell out of there. I don't like you.

Thanks,
The lady with two screaming children who won't make eye contact with you.


To the people driving on I-205 between Sunnyside Rd. and Milwakee last Tuesday,

I deeply apologize for the dance/karaoke party that was happening in my van. It was The Captain and Tennille. What was I supposed to do?

Sorry


Goldie,

If you shove all of my precious Cottonelle butt wipes down the toilet again (for the 3rd time) You may not survive until kindergarten. Because I will kill you. Let me tell you why this is so important:

1. Those fuckers are expensive.
2. I aim to have the cleanest crack in town and now I have to wait until you stop tantruming long enough to get to the store.
3. I had to reach my hand in the toilet to retrieve them after I am certain you peed in there. (See: Gross)

Loves,
Mama