Dear Rice Krispies,
When you stopped selling Rice Krispies Treat Cereal in stores, you lost me as a customer. I don’t want to have to buy my cereal online. How am I supposed to get whatever 10 essential vitamins and minerals your incredible product replenished my body with now?
I am both amazed and terrified at your inept abilities in navigating a roundabout. It embarrasses me to be a part of the human race when you associate yourself with me and can’t maneuver a very simple traffic obstacle.
Dear Left Shoulder,
Why are you slightly hairy, when my right shoulder is not at all?
Dear Right Shoulder,
Get Left Shoulder back in line. He is acting completely out of control.
Dear Hair on my Head,
It’s mind boggling that even though I lose upwards of 100 strands of you a day, you manage to replenish yourself. It’s like each hair follicle is a Kleenex dispenser for hair. Well played.
I am pretty sure it’s not a good idea to televise an attempt to fix your oil spill disaster, especially when you appear to be soliciting solutions from the Internet. If you’re listening, here are my top five solutions:
- Giant tampon
- Pay everyone to pretend nothing happened
- Create a large vacuum to suck the water out, add vinegar and sell product to chip companies for a “BP Sea Salt and Oil and Vinegar” chip
- Force Sarah Palin to speak on the subject in a Nationally televised event that will most definitely somehow end up having her say something that makes it look like it was her fault
Dear Lady Gaga,
You’re embarrassing to listen to, so stop making music that I want to listen to in my car.
Why do you seem so much more appealing to me at 7AM than 9PM?
Thanks for racing each other and letting me gamble on it. I can’t imagine a group of trained animals I wouldn’t have interest in betting on/watching race. This applies to all animals; Not like animal fights. Sure dogs and cocks fight just fine, but I am not too sure you can get a gambling ring at your house that involves two horses fighting. Wrong animal activity Ron Mexico; you should have raced the dogs.
Dear Washington State University,
Donations? It’s so nice of you that you remember me now that I have a degree and a job. I’m sure we will never forget the good times we once had. You know? Like when you waited until people purchased their meal plans and then jacked up the prices of food campus wide? Or when you used to send me the notices of delinquency that threatened to have the police evict me from my dorm during finals week every semester like clockwork for seven straight semesters? Yeah. Those were the days. I will be sure to support your programs now because you treated me so kindly. Keep those “How Coug Are You?” mailings coming my way. I haven’t forgotten to donate; I have just been really, really busy lately. I don’t tear them up and throw them away every time though. I swear.
I know everyone hates you, but I am okay with you for two reasons. One, the type of people you attract to your store are website-worthy and, without your store, there wouldn’t be a dense population of these people to photograph in any one small location other than in parts West Virginia and Kentucky. And two, because I just went to the Kellogg’s cereal finder home page and found that you carry Rice Krispie Treats cereal!
I would like to thank you for being the only local carrier of Berry Berry Kix, which I also had to use an online cereal finder to locate.
Dear People Reading,
Why are you reading something written by someone who has used online cereal finders before? “Finders.” Plural. Really?
Dear PlayStation 3,
They say time is money. I am filing a class action law suit against you. You owe me a lot of money.
People tell me to have you. Sometimes I pretend to and it always ends badly. Women can smell fake confidence. It smells like urine running down one’s pant leg.
When I am driving and you are crossing the street, we don’t need to have the “go ahead, wait, you want me to go? No please go. No, you go. Alright, fine. Oh, wait, you went at the same time, let’s both stop. Go ahead,” charades, which stem from confusion about who should go first. How about you go when I tell you to because I am operating a lethal weapon. This isn’t a threat, I am just saying. If I had a gun and told you to go, I bet you would do it. Do you know why? Because the person with the upper hand has the final say. Deal with it and cross the damn street. *Honk*
No I didn’t mean “he’ll,” I meant “hell,” damn it. Stop correcting me. I can’t remember the last time I used the word “he’ll” in my writing.
I am 24 years old now. Under no circumstance should you be biting my lips. I have been chewing long enough that it shouldn’t happen. You make everything you’re attached to look uncoordinated and foolish. It’s embarrassing.
Dear Barney Stinson’s Doppelganger,
I hate you.