Friday Letters

Dear Whining Children: My head explodes every time I hear you. Every damn time. The number one thing my future children will learn is NOT to whine. And bring me wine whenever they feel the need to whine. And make me guacamole. And learn how to wipe their own butts.


Dear Kelly Ripa: You were the size of a tween before Regis left but now that you sit next to Michael Strahan every day you legit look like a toddler. But it's okay, I still love you and your Electrolux appliances loving butt to pieces.


 
Dear Giants: You really make being at work by 7:45am the morning after you play on a weeknight dreadful. Let's get back to Sunday afternoons shall we? Because you know I'm still drinking just as much on a Thursday at 8:20pm...


Dear NYC: I'm obsessed with you and sometimes have to slap myself to remember that I do in fact live in you and get to see these views daily.


 
Dear iOS6 Update: I'm rather pissed at you since it seems like everything I'm so excited about for the iPhone 5 is available just by upgrading to you, you fancy pants technology you.


Dear Mini Ben & Jerry's Cups: What in the hot fudge sundae is this about? You've got to be kidding me with the 250 calories, right? You are the size of the hangnail on my pinky finger. Not cool.



Dear Gymboree: You easily take the cake for being one of the most awkward hours of my life...especially when I find your music class instructor to be attractive. Welp.


Dear Matilda: You just became a broadway show and it is certain that I must go see you. I'll be sure to bring my lunchbox to throw at Trunchbull and I'll also be sure to steal Miss Honey to be my second mom.