Dear USA Olympic Spectator: The giant, red, foam, USA cowboy hat? Bold fashion choice. Way to represent! Rube.
Dear Guy at Foxwoods sitting next to me at the slots: You really did look like a Butch-y woman. Didn't mean it as an insult when I called you "she". Peace out.
Dear Discountfloor.com: $676.10 for 8 boxes of clearance carpet tiles really doesn't feel like a discount. And $80.00 for shipping? This is for our basement. Thanks but no thanks.
Dear Ants climbing the pipes into my bathroom: It's February! We can do battle in the spring. Go night-nights fer chrissake!
Dear Barry Manilow: I'm so happy I found your Ultimate Manilow CD when we moved the fridge this week. I must say, however that listening to it while driving around on a cold and dreary day makes me want to drive into a bridge abutment. I hope you're happier than you were back in the 70s.
Dear NPR: I understand that the ethics of force feeding hunger strikers is an important topic but do you think you could schedule the discussion for a time when I am not trying to shovel down a not-so-savory Healthy Choice meal? Not good.
Dear Me: Oh, looky! Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits! Into the car it goes!
Dear Me (2): Find a current radio station. Listen to it. You're getting a little pathetic.
Ah yes...Barry. Makes me want to slit my wrists.
ReplyDelete"guy" at Foxwoods probably wasn't always one.
ReplyDeleteAt least you didn't ask if "she" was pregnant.
ReplyDeleteI'm perpetually horrified by out of touch I am when it comes to music. I've gotten a little better over the past year...but I'm still probably right behind grandma in the list of people who are behind the times.
ReplyDeleteNever was a Barry fan. Though he has talent, it just never fit me...
ReplyDelete