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Dear Doctor
If you hurt me like that again, you'll never see me again. Regardless of what is wrong with me.
Me
* Hugs *Dear Britain,
So, now that it is summer, is there a law that says each member of society has to mow their lawn and strim their weeds, and trim their hedges as often as they can, for long periods of time? Is there a prize for the person who's lawn and hedges never seems to grow an inch, because its kept so incredibly short? Considering the state of most people's gardens, I wouldn't be convinced. But as far as the noise level is concerned, people are practically mowing lawns from 8 am to 7 pm in any of the given gardens around the UK.
Could we not agree on a basic time window in which everyone could mow and strim and trim to their heart's content? Please? For the sake of someone that highly appreciates and values silence?
Yours, in hope.
Vana
This is why I have spare straws in the glove box of my carDear Cute Guy at the Drive-up Window;
Thank you for your kind attention. My entire order was correct. I gave you the right amount of change and you thanked me quite warmly. The fries were delicious, the best I've had in quite a while, salted just right, fresh and hot. And you tempted me with that offer of two apple pies for a dollar, but I think the chocolate chip cookies were a better choice for me. There were plenty of napkins in the bottom of the bag, even though I didn't really need them because I licked the salt and chocolate from my fingers. The large Diet Coke for a dollar was a real bargain, too, filled with ice and a refreshing beverage. It fit perfectly in my cup holder. Yes. Everything was absolutely perfect for a quick snack as I drove home.
I just wish you would have included the straw. *sigh*
Sincerely,
The drink-challenged good little witch in the blue car
This is why I have spare straws in the glove box of my car
Dear suck-faced pisshead financial gods:
Fuck you in the ass sideways.
4) STOP talking to my boobies. I swear if you say 'come on boobies follow me' one more time I am going to go mental and the next family member who laughs when you say something about my boobies is getting their head cut off!
Dear Dino,
You're my hero. Meet me out back sometime and we'll go plan world domination with our Instruments of Evilous Torture and Badass SuperVolt Electric Eels.
Fine day for a flaying.
Yours in terror (who also happens to be in complete agreement with stuff),
Bluebell