It’s about to be all Christmas and whatnot, which sucks for my blogging schedule. I had this other post planned which had to do with the fact that it’s not fair how sucky writing and crappy blogs get high page ranks because they do all this spammy bullshit that apparently works. But that topic is entirely un-Christmas-like, so I put it off till next week. Instead I am going to show you the letters I have been working on when I get bored waiting for my hubz to finish coding shit. Enjoy!
Dear cracked ceramic bowl with strawberries in the bottom,
I only bought you at that yard sale because of the strawberries painted on your insides. It didn’t occur to me until I got you home that, once you are full of things like ice cream or Lucky Charms, I can’t see your pretty design. And it’s not like an empty bowl gets to sit around on my counters doing nothing but taking up space. Now that you have a chip, I think it’s time for us to part. As soon as I finish eating this last bit of cereal, I’m throwing you away. I’m sorry, but it’s for the best.
Thank you for getting on my pizza. You made the veggie delight with extra cheese something to smile about. I can’t wait to eat you again.
Dear calendar next to my desk,
I think you’re an asshole for stopping at December. I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit about how I should have purchased that kind of calendar that starts in August. I hate that kind. They are sort of confusing to me. And don’t talk to me about better utilizing my Google Calendar app, because HELLO, my 8-year-old likes to read the words I write on you as you’re taped to the wall at her eye level. Fuck you, calendar. You should have a January, for people like me who don’t plan ahead.
I think it’s pretty shitty of you to arrive so quickly. I didn’t even have a chance to get my calendar in order. You’re somewhat of a bitch. Also? I heard you have been sleeping around with August, so now you’re not just a bitch; you’re a slut, too. Are you satisfied?
You aren’t fooling anyone. We’re on to you and your calendar-ish ways.
I love you so, so much. But you are really bad for me. I’m supposed to stop drinking you in the coming days… weeks… months… sometime soon anyway. But I can’t imagine going through my routine without you by my side. WHY CAN’T I QUIT YOU? I imagine my writing will suffer as a result. I’m considering writing my congressmen about this and having the decision to ban you overturned. I need you.
I will be out for about a month. I’m leaving you in charge. Just go ahead and write yourself, mmm-kay? Oh, you say you don’t do that sort of thing? Well, fuck me sideways.
Dear Walter Wynne,
One day I will find you, and you will wish I hadn’t.
I was really excited about you arriving in the mail, but it turns out you don’t work all that well. I won’t release your brand here, because I don’t have anything personal against you really. But it did hurt my feelings that you didn’t stay stuck, and I felt you should know. Every time my coat fell, I shook my fist at you.
Dear fifty pounds,
Get off me.
Get on me.
Every time you ring, I want to throw you against a wall and watch with glee as your plastic parts shatter in every direction. You are obnoxious and intrusive and I hate you. Die.
My love for you is matched only by my love for Hershey’s Syrup dumped all over Cookies-n-Cream ice cream. That’s a lot of love, in case you didn’t know. You and your television-show-providing-ways are fucking awesome.
You are a cat with thumbs, and for this alone you shall always be my hero. Add in your extra awesome facets, and we are talking a butt load of worship going on. Don’t ever run away from home, please. Or at least, you know, come back soon, and un-squashed.
Dear tractor in my backyard,
Why did I have to say that? I should not have a tractor in my backyard. Living in the country should not by extension automatically mean that a tractor shows up unexpectedly in your backyard. That is some bullshit right there. It’s bad enough that I had to learn how to deal with raccoons and squirrels getting into my trashcan. Now this. I hope your owner moves you soon, because otherwise I will be tempted to decorate you. I have some lovely flower and heart stencils, as well as some blue spray paint.
I wasn’t ready for your visit, but now that you’re here, you might as well come on in. Baby, it’s cold outside. Get your ass over here so I can warm you up. Let’s see what you brought us!
That’s my Christmas Eve post. The end.