Thursday, April 28, 2011

Wait a minute Mr. Postman.....

This is my horoscope today:

This day will be full of unique events that will inspire your creativity. Write out your feelings -- in a letter to yourself, to someone you're trying to get to know better, or to someone who's getting on your last nerve. You have a wonderful way with words, and an eloquent letter could be just what's needed to resolve a difficult situation. Your message will help clarify a path forward -- and will illuminate the necessary next steps.

I have been told that I am very articulate, and I enjoy being able to effectively express myself. Unfortunately, lately I feel like I have a hard time conveying a coherent thought without sounding stupid.  I end up tongue tied and at a loss for words in situations where I would normally have no problem saying what I think.  Maybe letters will help....

Dear car, 
Please, for the love of baby Jesus, stop squealing like pig. I feel like I am announcing my arrival to the entire world, "Im HEEEEEEEEEERRRRRREEEEEE!!".  I imagine that my neighbors hate me in the morning. They probably think to themselves, "Ugh, it's that bitch and her noisy car again". I don't blame them, I think the same thing to myself when I hear the neighbor with the stupid loud bass at ungodly hours of the night. Jerk.  It's embarrassing.  I feel like I take good care of you; I keep you lubed and clean (well, I know you need a bath right now, but I know the second I wash you it will rain) and serviced on a regular basis. I just see no need for this level of insubordination at all. Knock it off, or you are headed straight to the junkyard. 

Dear body,
There is no need whatsoever for you to continue to cling to every last pound that you can like you are in preparation of the long sleep of a hibernating bear.  Winter is over.  In fact, summer will be upon us soon and I will be required to wear a bathing suit (traditional uniform of lake goers).  It would be great if I didn't have to purchase the moo-moo version of said bathing suit. I am not asking for anything crazy here, I don't need a teeny tiny string bikini.... but to not look like a heifer in my modest one piece would be swell.  I exercise, I eat a moderately healthy diet, you could help a sista out here. Maybe if you think fond thoughts about my pre age 25 days, back when you had a metabolism worth a shit, you will feel inspired to shed some pounds.  Try it out, alright?

Dear birds, 
Stop pooping everywhere. That is all.

Dear friends,
Stop being jerks.  Of course this does not apply to all of you, some of you are pretty freaking amazing. But a couple of you lately are making me want to pull my hair out.  The last time I checked, being friends with someone is NOT the same thing as being in a relationship with someone. I do not have to check in with you. I do not need to tell you what I am doing at all times. Just because we go a few weeks without talking doesn't mean that we are less friends now then when we talk everyday. In fact, I have some friends that I only see once a year that I would consider better friends than some of the ones that I see weekly. Friends are supposed to make you happy, make you smile, make you feel secure and included. But the day they start giving me heartburn, is the day I start forgetting to call back. Oops.  

Dear boys,
I am done with the games. I am a pretty cool chick.  I am intelligent, I am sometimes funny, and I believe myself to be slightly better than average looking (I am working on it, see above letter to body).  I am not a great cook, but there are a handful of things that I make really well.  I try to smell nice.  Yes, I can be a little loud, a little in your face... but I make up for it by also being a really good kisser.  I also have an excellent movie/music library that I will happily grant you access to. I am totally worth your time, so instead of regretting it later when I have given up on you, pull your head out and take a breath. Smell that? It's me. Nice huh?

Dear job,
Please stop sucking out my soul. There are bills to pay and because of that I continue to show up to you every day. I remember a time when I liked going to visit you. I woke up with a smile on my face and couldn't wait to spend the day with people that I genuinely liked and respected. Lately the thought of going to work with one certain person is enough to make me lay in bed and consider what sort of illness I can pretend to have in order to stay home. Is work related depression covered by workers comp?  I am pretty sure that I can cash out my retirement and live out the rest of my life in Thailand.  I love thai food, so it seems like a win win.  I will send postcards to everyone.  

Dear dishwasher,
If you do not start satisfactorily cleaning the dishes, I am going to take a bat to you, office space style. I know that was a fax machine, but you get the idea. Don't make me fuck you up.

Hugs & Kisses,

P.s. Look at me.... no pictures, no smileys. I almost feel like a big girl.


  1. Its not very nice to address Deana as "dishwasher". This isn't fight club, she has a name in this life.

  2. no, she is dishwasher. Forever.

  3. I hope she reads this. Its too funny for her not to. We are hilarious.