To Whom It Concerns, Vol. 12

Dear God,

Why is it May 11th and still cold?  Are the Lamanites being wicked again?  Have I prospered too much without acknowledging thee?  Please make it stop.  I’ll repent for stuff I haven’t even done yet if it’ll help!

Love, Me

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Iceland,

I hate you.  I hate everything about you, especially your volcanic ash.  Thanks to you, June Gloom will now occur next February.  If it never gets warm here again, I’m suing you for moving costs for my illegal immigration to Cabo.

Sincerely, Sally the Human Popsicle

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Choir Director A,

NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR WORK HISTORY!!  This choir performance is NOT a job interview!  Just hurry up and get it over with so we can all go home!

Thanks,

Snarky Mom on the Front Row

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Doctor,

I don’t feel good.  Find me something that works, ok?  Yes, I realize I am quickly becoming a candidate for Intervention, but at least I don’t (insert any addictive behavior here) when I can’t get my fix.  If I can’t turn to food or shopping when I have anxiety, and I really don’t feel like sleeping it off (which comes from using the “regular” meds) until my kids go to college, at least have the courtesy to let me have this one little vice!

Signed,

Hiding in my bedroom until the next refill

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Choir Director B,

Yes, you, Bitter Beer Man (a.k.a. Mr. Holland before his Opus).  We know you had great dreams.  We know you were the consummate choir nerd.  We can see the resentment on your face, and in your hairstyle, and really wish you would stop making our kids sing these horrific medleys that they torture us with at home practicing hour after hour just so we can attend a performance to hear it performed en masse.

Kiss, kiss,

Snarky Mom still on the Front Row

p.s. That was me that was choking on my laughter when your pre-programmed keyboard went all Exorcist and started tweeting during “Hey, Jude”.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Boys Who Pee On My Bathroom Floor,

CLOSE THE FREAKING LID!!!

You are 7, 9 1/2, 11 and 17 now and thank you for not leaving sprinkles on the seat any more, but Grandma does not want to fall in when she has to go in the middle of the night!

Hugs and Kisses,

Mommy (a.k.a. the woman who has all the ammo she needs for teenage blackmail)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Honey,

Thank you for quitting your (extra) job.  I know it will be hard.  I know I will complain a lot.  And I’ll probably have a freaking LOT of few tantrums when money is short.  But just think about all the memories we’ll be making with our little ankle-biters!  Now you, too, will get to share in the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth fun involved in forcing the kids to clean up their pool crap so we don’t have moldy towels and suits of a leisurely afternoon by the pool!

xoxo,

She-Ra Princess of Power Sallygirl

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Neighbors,

PLEASE MOVE.  I don’t enjoy seeing your kid pee outside (thankfully, in your own bushes) in the rain.  Or your music.  Or the seventeen cars that “live” at your house.  Also, I’m pretty sure, at least one person needs to be over 35 to watch all the kiddies and their babies that live over there.

Hasta Lasagna,

The Neighbor Who Isn’t Afraid to Use the Non-Emergency Number for the Po-Po to Report Punks Like You

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Sallygirl,

The sun will come out tomorrow, but only if you go to bed first.  Tomorrow is bound to be better than today, and if it’s not, well, you can always write a blog post about it.

Goodnight!

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2 thoughts on “To Whom It Concerns, Vol. 12

  1. Um…aren’t you a Lamanite? 🙂

    I too hate the pee, SERIOUSLY!!! Aim better!!!!!

    I think we all have a neighbor we really need to move out so we can have a better life. The thing is, often they’re exchanged for one just as bad OR worse!

    Thanks for the laugh.

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