Dear Fate/Universe/Higher Power/Karma/Etc:
I know you probably think I have no right to complain. Generally speaking, I�ve got things pretty good. But I really, really hate always moving around. I get lost all the time and never make any friends. I don�t think the luck of getting K should have to be balanced by not having anything else. Kansas City or Seattle would have been the perfect solution to this, and yet after all the anticipation we are being denied both of them. I think I�ve been pretty patient. I�ve worked shitty jobs for two and a half years and lived in four different places. Enough is enough. I would appreciate my ideal life to be deposited on my doorstep in the next ten business days.
Dear Pimple on My Chin:
It�s been ten days now and you show no signs of leaving. Or getting smaller. I don�t know why you insist on hanging around. Perhaps you think you�re making me more recognizable. �Which one�s Mrs. K?� �She�s the one with the constant enormous pimple on her chin.� �Oh.� (Cue pitying grimace.) But really, I think our time together has come to an end. Since none of the normal methods have worked, I now turn to entreating you. Please go away.
Dear Tivo:
Our love continues unabated. You are, in fact, both the sunshine of my life and the apple of my eye. There are those who might judge my love of you, but don�t worry, they will be swiftly cut from my life.
Dear Mark Burnett:
You are heroin in man producing reality television form. I had escaped ever watching �The Restaurant� and had no plans to view the second season either. Then, yesterday, a marathon of season one on Bravo. And it coincided so perfectly with my mourning the passing of �The Apprentice.� You have hooked me once again, you magnificent bastard.
Dear K�s Boss:
I really, really, really hate you. You knew how much both K and I wanted the Kansas City job. And yet you sat there and told K that you were going to block him from getting it because you weren�t ready to let him go. You encourage him to wait another year and then take the sales position in Southern California. When he tells you we don�t want to live here you chuckle condescendingly. In conclusion, I really, really hate you.
Dear Fifteen Pounds I Have Gained Over the Past Year:
Much like with the aforementioned pimple, I feel our time together has come to an end. You were an extra special gift with purchase from my decreased thyroid medicine. I almost had to admire your tenacity as you stuck around despite changes in diet or increased exercise. But as summer looms, I am going to suggest it�s time we part ways. I liked my clothes, and even more than that I liked fitting into them. Best of luck in all future endeavors!
Student teaching begins - 2005-02-20
Three more days!! - 2005-02-07
Weekend recap - 2005-01-31
Oh the hate - 2005-01-26
Yay for staying home! - 2005-01-24