Letters of Complaint

Dear Mother Nature:

It’s May. MAY! 44 is not acceptable. Neither 90. Or 32.

Love, Me

Dear Asshole with the Fat Chicks Can’t Jump sticker:

Sorry your penis is so small.

Love, Me

Dear Dog:

Let me see if I have this straight. Friends, strangers, burglars, ax-murderers, and politicians: “Welcome! Come in! Can I get you a snack?” Squirrels, robins, turkeys*, the wind: “KILL IT WITH FIRE!” Alrighty, then.

Love, Me.

*Actual turkeys. Obviously, jive turkeys are OK.

Dear Bigoted, Homophobic Asshole on Twitter/Facebook:

Eat a bag of (preferably gay) dicks!

Love, Me.

Dear Face:

I am forty-four damned years old. Cut the shit!

Love, Me

Dear Phone:

Stop mixing up my phone contacts with other people’s twitter/facebook info. I’m pretty sure my 9 year old daughter isn’t a mother of four.

Love, Me

Dear Boy Scouts:

It’s not enough.

Love, Me

Dear America:

Be nicer.

Love, Me

Dear Books:

Thank you for existing. I love you best.

Love, Me

Dear Cat:

The other side of that door is exactly the same as it was when you were over there 5 minutes ago. And 10 minutes ago. And 14 minutes ago. And 20 minutes ago. And 23 minutes ago. STOP IT!

Love, Me

Dear Science:

Try and hurry up with the curing all diseases, so you can get to work on the self-cleaning house.

Love, Me

Dear Ass:

Be smaller.

Love, Me