I am so happy I've gotten to know you recently, as you seem like a super lovely individual, but can I recommend something to you? I say this with lots of care in my heart but for the love of God and all that is Holy, please obtain a better bra or three. If you'd strap those suckers down you would look 20 pounds lighter and I'm fairly sure a great bra would alleviate some of the pain you feel on a daily basis.
I have suggestions for places to obtain said bras and I'm certain can help you find coupon codes. I'm really good at that. It's one of my talents and gifts.
Sometimes when really awful people declare, "I HAVE FOUND JESUS!" I want to call you up and be like, "Dude. Get a better hiding place."
I know, that's really terrible isn't it? I think it's worse when people commit horrible acts to others and say they did it in your name, so I'm just going to go with it. I know you love me all day and every day, even when I'm being a tool. Also, I know you think I'm really funny and thank you for making me that way. I think one day when I meet you we're going to get along really well, because I know you have a great sense of humor too. Why else would you give someone who was 22 and had a husband who was gone a set of twins?
(Okay, I know it was to teach me life lessons too. And they are the greatest kids ever, so thank you for all of it. Every bit of it. Every second of it.)
Love you, love you, love love love you,
PS: Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being there.
PS again: Yes, I know that was lyrics from a song from Bob's Burgers. I'm sorry.
PSS: Actually, I'm not sorry. That song is awesome. Thank you for Bob's Burgers. That show makes me happy.
Dear Everyone who drives a car,
Please turn on your lights at dusk. It's dark. People can't see you. This is what headlights are made for. Stop being douchebags.
Also, stop running red lights. You suck.
Stop making stupid decisions. Get therapy.
Dear people shopping at various Dollar stores locally,
Please give me a minute to get the cards on the shelf. You can see me standing there with like twelve boxes and paper cuts all over my hands. You can tell I'm working. Please give me time to do my job. It won't kill you to not get your Christmas card for an additional two minutes.
Also, please do not reach into my boxes, pull out unwrapped cards, and start ripping them open. It's really crappy and not cool and super rude and, not that you care, but it puts me even further behind when you do that.
Additionally, if you are the type of person who picks up twelve cards, reads them, and then shoves them all into a random card slot? I don't like you. I'm pretty sure Satan kills a puppy every single time you do that, so please knock it off. With quickness.
I'm just...exhausted. I'm weary. I'm weak.
I need a break from everything. The country I live in is in turmoil. This week I watched my childhood burning down. My heart is heavy and I'm just sick.
Please. Just stop.