Dear Neighbor Bob,
I heard you come home this morning. I heard you at 6am. While I’m glad you got home safely, I could have continued sleeping. I heard you cough up the black tar and mucus from your nicotine habit, repeatedly. I heard the spit splatter on the sidewalk. I gagged. Thank you for making my life so interesting. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to exercise my gag reflex. It’s in tip top shape.
You are an idiot. You spent 20 precious minutes that you don’t have writing a lovely note to mail to your friend and her husband for their anniversary. You made sure you found a colored pen that matched the card. You searched through your books to find the one that had their new address written in it, and then you put it in your purse so you wouldn’t forget to mail it this morning. Oh, you Dumb Shit! You got out of the car, put it in the mailbox, and sent it into Mail Heaven…NO STAMP!
Dear Carrie Bradshaw,
Thank you for being my friend. I know you are a fictional character, but I watch my Sex in the City DVD’s faithfully, and I’ve come to really like you guys. You keep me laughing, and you give me hope that I will not be single for the rest of my life. Keep up the good work. Oh, and can I just tell you that you would LOVE my new apartment? It’s really cute.
P.S. Don’t worry. We’re only in Season 2…Big will be back.