Dear Roseanne Barr,
Your show seriously effing sucks. How come I didn't notice that when it was on? I watched it on Nick at Nite a couple days ago, and I wanted to kill myself. Well, really I wanted to kill you, but I have easier access to me.
Dear Nick at Nite,
What the hell are you doing. Stop airing Roseanne and Full House. Have some self respect for the love of God.
Dear Cartoon Network,
While I'm writing to TV stations, I'd just like to say a couple things to you. First, great work on bringing Frisky Dingo on board. That is an effing fantastic show. And second, I hate when I fall asleep watching your network, and I wake up in the middle of the night to Japanese anime. I'm sorry, but it's just creepy. Fullmetal Alchemist scares the crap out of me.
Dear Christmas decorations,
Okay so I collected you from throughout the house and put you in a pile on my dining room table. Could you be dears and see that you all get in the rubber storage bins and up on the shelves in my garage? I would do it myself except that I have so much going on like thinking about vacuuming and eating diced peaches and pretending I'm Ann Wilson singing "Magic Man" into my hairbrush. So if you could just do this one thing for me, that would really help me out a lot. Thanks.
Dear Internet,
I'm not even going to pretend that I tried to watch the State of the Union address. "Veronica Mars" was on. So you know.
Dear British kid from "Cry Wolf",
I don't know who you are, but, my, you are a little cutie piece of Britishness. I would like to import you from the motherland.
Dear coworker G,
Every day I wake up, and it takes every single last ounce of energy and willpower in my entire 5'9", million pound body to get myself out of my Beech-sheet-covered bed and into the shower and then drive myself 30 minutes to my soul draining, spirit killing job where before I even take off my coat 10 people call me to ask me questions and my boss leaves me notes like "See me". The one bright spot in my morning is getting to fill out the Sudoku puzzle on my daily tear-off calendar. So let's imagine, if you will, how I must feel when I finally have a minute to breathe and do my puzzle, and it's already filled in. There are no words, G. No words. Only anger. The kind of anger that is so strong it literally takes on its own form and personality-Incredible Hulk style. That is what you do to me when you fill out my puzzle, G. And I'll tell you what-I don't know how much longer I can control the monster from jumping over the cube wall and strangling you with your own phone cord. If you force me to lock up my tear-off calendar, I will do it. But it will be the most ridiculous thing that has ever had to be done in an office setting, and I will resent you forever. I will also blog about it. STEP AWAY FROM THE CALENDAR.



