I wanted to love you; I really, really did.
Alas, I cannot.
It’s not you; it’s me.Sincerely, Disappointed
Ok, it's you.
Ok, it's you.
Dear Starbucks Cinnamon Dolce Latte,
Honey, I’m sorry; I was wrong.
I want you back.
Dear Guinness and Finnigan,
Chasing each other around the house is a fine pastime; I approve of the exercise aspect of the activity and don't even mind when you run over the back of the couch when I am sitting on it, even though you have startled me on occasion, causing me to spill my drink. I do, however, have to draw the line at the two of you hurtling your bodies at my lower legs when I am standing at the stove; that shit is just an accident waiting to happen.
Love, The Hand That Feeds You
Dear New Job,
I love you.
And, while I realize that, according to the company's 3000 page Employee Manual, it is inappropriate for me to say that to you; I don't care.
I love you, man.
Dear Pixler Panthers,
I hope you enjoyed your 47-0 win over our boys. It's too bad that your victory came courtesy of late hits, blatant face masks and a slew of other under-handed techniques that went unnoticed-or ignored-by the hometown refs.
Your showy celebration in the end zone following the sound of the final buzzer was also a sight to see .
Way to keep it classy, gentlemen.
Signed, Sadly, Not Surprised
Dear Petticoat Junction Pirates,
Way to keep your heads up, boys! I'm proud of your conduct on the football field, today as well as of your continued good sportsmanship. You played a good game and, despite a tough loss, you played your hearts out to the very end.
Pixler would be lucky to have even one player with the sports ethics that your entire team shows.
Yours in school spirit, The Man-Cub's Mom
Dear Flannel Pillowcase,
You. Me. In the bedroom in ten.
Love, Chelle's Head