Some Letters to Things That Don’t Actually Receive Mail, or Read, Really

Dear Yoga,

Why are you still making me hurt today?  I didn’t push myself too hard, I didn’t bend into some sort  of human pretzel thing.  I am tired of aching now.  Please stop it.

Regards,

Carolyn

 

Dear HVAC system in my office,

Why do you suck?  It is very hot in here and I am not allowed to take of all my clothes (no matter how many times Nelly may suggest otherwise).  Please turn off the heat.  But please do this without me having to call and request it.  I am too sleepy (from the heat!) and lazy to deal with it.

Regards,

Carolyn

 

Dear Season 4 of the Wire,

I know I’ve only seen episode 1 so far, but so far you are already full of awesome.  I would like to thank you for that brilliant open scene with Snoop buying the nailgun.  Also for the change in Carver.  Also for just generally being wonderful.  Although I’m not sure I understand how Prez could ever make it through a background check to become a teacher, but we’ll let it go. 

Also, why do I like Prez so much when he has done such stupid, stupid things?  Why do you toy with me like this The Wire?

Kindest Regards,

Carolyn

PS I miss Stringer

 

Dear Bus Driver of the Northbound 63 that I Took This Morning,

Hey man, I hope your day got better, because you were super angry at everyone this morning.  Listen, here’s a tip for the future:  Maybe don’t yell so much.  Especially over the bus PA system.  I know, I know, people shouldn’t stand on the upper deck, and yes the bus was totally full and could not fit another passenger much less the lady with the stroller.  But, dude, the yelling really doesn’t help.

Maybe anger management courses are the answer.

Peace,

Carolyn

PS Sorry for implying that you cannot read or receive mail.  I’m sure you can, it’s just that I don’t know your name or address so I can’t actually send this to you.

 

Dear Tuesday,

Please stop raining.  Also please go faster.

XOXO
Carolyn

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Filed under busshole, culture that is popular, grumpus, health (or lack thereof)

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