Trust me, there is no gun.

Ever run into those people that are so naive you just want to bury your face in your hands the whole time you’re talking to them? I do. A lot. In my last semester in college, I took a criminology class, which stands for, “Let’s sit around and all tell varying accounts of our cars getting broken into because we left our iPod on the front seat.”

Anyway, so this girl puts up her hand and starts telling her story about crime, and she’s all, “When I moved to Manchester, someone broke into my car and stole 50 dollars.” So the class is like, “Oh okay, that sucks.” but then she continues and says, “Then someone went and took all my mama’s jewelry from our house. so then she started goin’ to all the pawn shops because she assumed my brother sold ’em because he was on drugs. Anyway, so she calls me down there and is like, ‘Angel, you gotta come down here and identify the jewelry,’ and I’m like, ‘What? why me?’ but my mama won’t tell me why. So i get down there and it turns out my boyfriend, the daddy of my baby, was the one that was stealin’ from us. He’d even set up a surveillance system for us at our house so we could tell when my brother was stealin’ stuff. But here was the absolute worst part, when we asked him why he did it, he told us that someone had put a gun to his head and forced him to break into our house and steal from us! Can you believe that?!”

So I’m like, “oh my gosh, I can’t even believe that. I hope you aren’t with him anymore.” and she gives me a strange look and says, “what do you mean ‘not with him’? I ain’t gonna dump the father of my child because he was forced at gunpoint to rob me and sell my mama’s jewelry! We’re not pressing charges, we’re just hoping they find the lunatic out there with a gun!”

It took everything within me not to scream, “wait what?! Are you serious right now? In what universe is this a feasible explanation! Let me see if I’ve gotten this straight: your baby daddy set up a surveillance system in your house that he knew how to disassemble to catch your drug addicted brother, a foolproof scapegoat, stealing your mother’s jewelry. In addition to that, i’m guessing he had a house key since he was there setting up this system so he was able to break and enter without breaking. So you honestly believe that there is some maniac out there with a gun that forced him to steal your mother’s jewelry, pawn it and then not tell you?! Good lord, every thought you have is horrible! Guess what? There is no man with a gun, unless you’re talking about your psycho ass baby daddy who clearly is running this ridiculous shit show you call your life! Get your head out of your ass, girl!”

But instead I said, “oh. I hope they find the guy who did this so justice can be served.”

I need to update this more often.

So I date someone who is obsessed with movies.  I am not a movie buff whatsoever, in fact, I tend to obsess over the wrong parts of movies, which is a point of contention between Rob and me.  On Friday night, we were watching Scream, because I had never seen it before.  Anyway we get to the part where Neve Campbell and her boyfriend have sex in one of the bedrooms at a friend’s party.

Me:  “Hold on, wait!  What is she doing?”

Rob:  “What do you mean, what is she doing?  They just did it.”

Me:  “What?  Yes, no, I get that.  I mean, what does she think she’s doing NOW?!”

Rob:  “She’s brushing her hair…”

Me:  “EXACTLY.  And whose hair brush is that?!  She’s in one of the many bedrooms of this mansion so WHOSE hairbrush is she using?!”

Rob:  “Who cares?”

Me:  “I care. I know it’s not hers.  She wasn’t carrying a purse with her and there’s no way a hairbrush of that size would fit in her pocket. I mean really, that is so rude.  I would hate it if someone used my hairbrush. It’s just nasty. Neve Campbell is such a jerk.”

 

Ten minutes of this and Rob has stopped the movie and I still don’t know whose hairbrush Neve Campbell was using.

SOH-CAH-TOA

I am terrible at math so when I had to take the required Math 1010 in college, I just about flipped my shit.  I would sit in class and watch my teacher explain the stuff and show us problems and I would just not understand it so at night while I was trying to do my homework, instead of finding someone local, like in the math tutoring lab, I would call up my friend Corey who was 3 hours away.  As I’ve stated in previous entries, I also harass Corey about technology and he is still my friend.  Cores has the patience of a saint.  Anyway, this system of him helping me worked out fairly well until we got to a geometry section.  So setting logic aside as I often do, I decided I’d still call Cores for help and I would just be able to DESCRIBE the problems to him and he could draw them himself.

Without further ado, I give to you the story of how I got a B in Math1010:

ring ring

Cores:  “Hello?”

Me:  “Okay so there is a triangle and it is asking me for things that I just don’t know.”

Cores:  “Hi Mary.”

Me:  “Yes, hello.  Anyway, so there’s this triangle and I only have just the one bit of information but they want to know what the length is for side x and side y.  How can they do that? They only give me ONE teensy amount of information and expect me to know what the entire triangle is measured?  No.  I don’t even care.  I’m not going to be an architect and I don’t even like this triangle.  There is no need for me to know this.”

Cores:  “Okay.  Let’s start from the beginning. What kind of triangle is it?”

Me:  “Oh it’s not tiny but it’s also not very big.  I’d say it’s medium sized.  What is the measurement for X?”

Cores:  “Sigh.  I don’t know what it is yet.  I need more information.  Do you remember your teacher explaining different types of triangles?  Like isosceles, scalene, or right?”

Me:  “Nope.  Is the size of the triangle really that important?  Just draw a triangle.”

Cores:  “Well it matters because that can help us figure out the angles, which can help us figure out the sides. So just describe the triangle to me.”

Me:  “Ugh.  So many steps.  Okay it’s actually a nice looking triangle now that I’m not so irritated with it.  It’s very straight and it has the tiniest little square in the corner. I like that, it’s cute.”

Cores:  “Great, so it’s a right triangle.”

Me: “Perfect.  Now that you have your details, what is X?”

Cores:  “Mary. This is just the beginning…”

An hour later, after explaining each step twice, putting me on speakerphone with his roommates who were engineering majors and it becoming a collaborative effort with one of them shouting, “SOH-CAH-TOA, USE SOH-CAH-TOA!”, we were done with problem #1.

This is how I got my B in Math1010.

Worst Sea Lion EVER

So does anyone else have ridiculously weird dreams?  Because I do.  And an odd number of them have been about sea lions, which kind of concerns me because I don’t even like sea lions and I hear that dreams are your subconscious trying to tell you something and maybe I’m supposed to like sea lions, except these sea lions suck, so I still hate them. This is my most memorable sea lion dream:

My family and I rented a beach house for the summer except the beach was in Cleveland, Mississippi, which is actually in the delta.  Anyway, so in this beach house there is a giant fish tank and I get this strange fascination with the fish tank.  I spent hours and hours staring at that tank.  Well then out of nowhere, this sea lion cub who was in the tank for some reason manages to slip out, and he definitely wasn’t a cute sea lion.  He looked scary like those sea lions in Happy Feet, except he was tiny.  Also he kind of moved around like Goo from Gumby except he definitely wasn’t a mermaid that flew and spit goo balls.  Anyway, so this sea lion gets out and starts moving toward me and is biting and biting at me so I try to run away.  Well, that turns out to be impossible because this sea lion is ridiculously fast, so then it begins to bite me and my family relentlessly and you can shake and shake your leg and it won’t get off because it latches on and just bites.

So I call animal control and they’re like, “Oh no, sorry we can’t be there until 6 pm tomorrow morning” and I’m like, “Well the sea lion cub is going from each of my family members and taking turns biting and biting us and we can’t even shut a door on him because he is way too fast for us, so he’s just following us everywhere!”  and the guy is like, “well i’m really sorry you’re going to have to hold on until tomorrow.”  so I have finally had enough so I grabbed that sea lion cub and I threw it on the ground really hard and broke its hand (yes, its hand) and when the animal control guy overhears this he suddenly has time for us and rushes over to the house to collect the cub.  Well, when he gets there he starts lecturing me and looking at me like I’m the world’s worst person because I broke a really bad sea lion cub’s hand (again, yes, hand) and so I get in his face and I’m like, “NO!  NO.  You don’t look at me like I’m a bitch, because he may be a cub but he is VERY aware of how he’s treating people!”

 

Because he was.  Bitch ass cub.

I am 99% sure Jesus doesn’t have a facebook…

Okay, so last year Jesus added me as a facebook friend.  I’m pretty sure Jesus doesn’t have a facebook but on the off chance that he does, I really didn’t want to be the person that rejected Jesus as a facebook friend. That seems to me to be one of those things that is sure to bite you in the ass.  You just can’t take that sort of thing back. It’s kind of like at the beginning of Beauty and the Beast when the prince rejected that old lady because she was unattractive but when she got all pretty, he’s like, “oh whoops!” and she’s like, “nope.  you’re a beast now with a dying rose and a seeing mirror!”  So yeah, definitely don’t want a situation like that, so if a haggard old lady adds me, I guess I have to accept her too.  Anyway, this afternoon I was checking out his page because facebook told me to reconnect with him and now my 98% certainty that Jesus didn’t have a facebook went up to 99%…though I’m not taking him off because there’s still that 1%. I’ve included some screenshots:

This is why I’m 99% sure this isn’t the real Jesus:

1.  Both of my parents are pastors and my sister is in seminary and no one ever told me that Jesus was born in 1978.  He was only 11 years old when I was born.  So either my family is withholding information from me because they hate me and want me to be ignorant or this isn’t really Jesus.

2.  I see that Jesus attended a fraternity recruitment in 2008.  In some ways that would make sense to me, because he is a brother to all, plus the ability to turn water into alcohol is an awesome party trick that would make someone a top candidate for a fraternity; however, Jesus isn’t turning anything into roofies so he’s not that useful to a fraternity.

3.  Jesus attended someone else’s event and got tagged in their photos, but he didn’t come to MY birthday party?  Please.  If that was really Jesus,when he got the facebook invite to my party he would’ve DEFINITELY showed up and taken pictures with me.  HELLO?  I’m photogenic!  So photogenic in fact that our picture would’ve been so good that he would’ve had to make it his profile picture.  That’s right.  Profile picture good.

4.  While Jesus was not a native speaker of English, he was perfect so he would definitely know the difference between by, buy, and bye. I also don’t think he would be so enthusiastic about his religious views, because he was far from conceited.

5.  Jesus would have more than 52 friends.

Though, as much logical thought as I have put into this, I am still not going to take him off of my friends list.  It’s kind of like after I watch a Ghost Whisperer marathon and I’m like, “Okay there’s no such thing as ghosts but I’m still not going to go into an old, abandoned house and risk running into an old woman in a wheelchair who steals children’s souls because she beckoned the shadows into the house with her seances.”  You know, you just can’t be too careful.

Once when I worked…

So I was clothes shopping today and it reminded me of the days (like a month ago) when I worked in a shoe store.  I had worked in that shoe store for almost 3 years and had my share of stupid customers.  I was so harsh behind customers’ backs that I now have an irrational fear of salespeople when I’m shopping. I walked into a store today and when I realized they worked on commission and two people were headed straight toward me, I awkwardly backed out of the store mumbling, “Thanks so much!”  as if I had just stolen ten pairs of pants.  Anyway, these are some of my favorite phone calls I got into the store.  Clearly judging by my previous post, I have ZERO right whatsoever to judge these people, but that’s really not stopping me.:

ringring

Mary:  “Hi, this is Mary, how can I help you?”

Lady:  “Is this a shoe store?”

Mary:  “Yes ma’am.”

Lady:  “Great.  Okay so I’m looking for a brown shoe.”

Mary:  “Okay, I need a little more description than that.  Do you happen to have the name of it?”

Lady:  “No, but it’s brown and leather.  Can you put that on hold for me?  I’ll come into the store and get it later this week. Size 7.”

Mary:  “Well, we have a lot of shoes that fit that description.  Can you give me any more details?”

Lady:  “Absolutely.  It has a heel.  And it’s got some fabric on this little part of it.”

Mary:  “Where exactly are you looking at this shoe?  Is there any way you could get the name of it?”

Lady:  “No, I don’t know the name of it.”

Mary:  “Okay, I am really sorry to be unhelpful, but you’re just going to have to come into the store.  I’m not really sure what shoe you’re looking for and I don’t want to put the wrong shoe on hold for you.”

Lady:  “Well, what if I gave you the little number that goes with it that starts with a J?  Could you look up the shoe with that?”

Mary:  “Of course, but where are you getting the J number?”

Lady:  “Oh, I’m on the website looking at it.  I just didn’t want to order online.”

Mary:  “Sigh.  Look to the left of the J number.  The name is right there.”

Lady:  “I’ll just come into the store.”

Obviously I’m being punished for being so annoying when I’m in Best Buy, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling disgruntled.

ringring

Mary:  “Hello, this is Mary.  How can I help you?”

Woman:  “Well first of all I’m 300 pounds.”

Mary:  “Ah.  Okay…”

Woman:  “Anyway, I used to be thin. I was 180 pounds and I was about 5’3″.  It was all muscle.”

Mary:  “Oh…”

Woman:  “Well the reason I’m calling is because I need a pair of shoes.  But here’s the problem:  I need someone to sit with me and put on every shoe for me because I have tiny tootsies and I just can’t get a shoe on them because of my weight.  I used to be thin, you know.”

Mary:  “Yes, okay, well it’s tax free this weekend so I wouldn’t advise coming in this weekend because we’ll be so busy and you won’t get the attention you need.”

Woman:  “Okay, so I could come in Saturday?”

Mary:  “Sigh.  Yes.”

I think my main issue with this conversation is that if you’re 5’3″ there is almost NO way in hell that 180 would make you look thin OR be just muscle.  I mean, let’s be realistic here.  I know people who are 6 feet tall and look chunky at 180 pounds.  So sorry, don’t buy it.

That story generally leaves me with little to no words so I will just go ahead and end it here.


My apology to Best Buy employees or anything of the sort…

So after being in Best Buy today, I realized that I am ridiculously incompetent when it comes to technology.  I am like a 70 year old woman.  But I feel like my questions and descriptions are exceptionally dumb, which is why not only will I extend an apology to all Best Buy and AT&T employees, I will also include a highlight reel.  Also I can’t forget to apologize to my dear friend Cores, who bears the brunt of my idiotic inquiries. Here goes:

(I am going into Best Buy to get a USB drive, except I don’t know what it’s called.  I should add that I am walking around the store nearly in tears because I can’t figure out where anything is and I don’t know how to ask for it.)

Kevin, the Best Buy employee:  “Hi, is there anything I can help you with?”

Mary:  “Oh my gosh, so much.  Except I don’t know what it’s called so I’m going to describe it to you. Is that okay?  Okay, I am just going to tell you what I want.”

Kevin:  “That’s fine, I’m sure it will be no problem.”

Mary:  “Okay, I want one of those things that sticks into my laptop.”

Kevin:  “A mouse?”

Mary:  “No, no.  I have one of those, I put my fingers on it and swish.”

Kevin:  “…Okay, you mean the mouse on the laptop.  Alright, so I need more description.”

Mary:  “Okay, it’s a stick and you stick it in your computer.  My brother has one that looks like a piece of Bubble Yum.  Do you have laptop sticks that look like Bubble Yum?  Do they come in colors?  I want one in a color.”

Kevin:  “Ma’am, I am having a hard time understanding what you want.”

Mary:  “I want something that I can stick into my laptop so I can print my beach pictures.  My brother has one for papers but I don’t write papers so I don’t use it.  I guess I could but I just go to the library, you know?  Free printing.  Well it’s not free, we have a technology fee built into our tuition so it feels free but also it’s like, you should use it because you’re paying for it.  Probably 25 dollars.  Will this be 25 dollars?”

Kevin:  “Okay.  So it’s something you want to put pictures on?”

Mary:  “Right.  I plug it in and then drag whatever pictures I want onto it.  Boom.  Or I guess if I wrote a paper I could do that too.”

Kevin:  “Do you mean a USB drive?”

Mary:  “I don’t know, does that stick into the computer?”

(Kevin, who looks suicidal at this point, brings me over to the display of USB drives.)

Kevin:  “Is this what you wanted?”

Mary:  “YES!  Except I want a pink or purple one.  And I see you don’t have one that looks like a piece of Bubble Yum.  Do you know where they sell those?”

Kevin:  “NO.”

Mary:  “Oh, okay, I guess I’ll keep looking.  But I know the name of it now so I really appreciate that.”

Kevin:  “Yep.”

Okay so at least it’s probably obvious to everyone why I owe Best Buy an apology.  I would not have blamed Kevin for pushing me down a flight of stairs at that point.  I went into the AT&T store a few days later…poor guy didn’t know what was about to hit him:

AT&T check in guy:  “Welcome to AT&T, what can I help you with?”

Mary:  “Oh hi!  Okay, so I got this phone from my Uncle Ted because he got a new phone and this is a samsung like my old phone except on my old phone when it was online there was a star beside the 3G at the top and this has a star so I’m afraid it’s online.  I’m never supposed to be online.”

AT&T check in guy: (Heavy sigh)  “First of all, it’s a plus sign, like 3G plus.   And okay, let me put your name in.”

My name gets called and Travis is helping me:

Travis:  “Okay so you think your phone is online?”

Mary:  “Yes, there is a st…plus sign by the 3G and on my old samsung phone it did that when it was on the online, like when I was getting a ringtone.  Can I transfer those by the way?”

Travis:  “No.”

Mary:  “No it’s not online or no I can’t transfer my ring tones?”

Travis:  “No you can’t transfer your ringtones.  As for it being online, no, it’s not online, the 3G turns red when it’s online.”

Mary:  “So why’s there the plus?”

Travis:  “I don’t know.”

Mary:  “Well, I’m afraid it’s online because the plus is there.  I don’t want a charge.  My mom will be so mad.  My brother ran up the bill so badly last month and I just moved home and she’ll be very frustrated and maybe not feed me if this phone is online.  So I need to know for definite that it’s not online.”

Travis:  “Okay.  It is NOT online.  Do you want me to check your data charges?”

Mary:  “Yes.”

Travis:  “Okay, you have no data charges.  Your phone is NOT online.”

Mary:  “Hmm…okay.  But there’s still a plus.  Can I just have your business card in case it is online and my mom gets mad?”

Travis:  Sigh.

And I know this entry is way too long, but as long as I’m humiliating myself, I might as well include one of the many, many technology related conversations Cores has dealt with. It is close to my birthday and I want a new camera.

Mary:  “Okay, I want a new camera.  Let’s get online and you help me figure out what kind of camera I want.”

Cores:  “Great, let’s look and see what deals there are and what cameras are best.”

Mary:  “Oh.  I didn’t tell you.  It has to be a Kodak and it has to be pink like my old camera AND it has to have a cord that I stick in the wall to charge it.  I do NOT want batteries.”

Cores:  “There are lots of great camera brands out there, Kodak is not the best one, you know?”

Mary:  “It’s what I had last time.  I like being brand loyal.”

Cores:  “Sigh.  Okay.  So here’s a pink Kodak…”

Mary:  “Is it the right color pink?”

Cores:  “I don’t know.  Anyway, here’s a pink Kodak.  8X optical zoom.  That’s really good…let’s look at the features.”

Mary:  “Does it come with a cord that I stick in the wall to charge it? I hate batteries.”

Cores:  “I don’t know…okay it says it has a USB cord with it so what that probably means is that it will be like my camera, where it has a plug that you can attach to the USB cord so you can plug it into the wall.  But then you can also unhook it so you can transfer your pictures on your laptop.”

Mary:  “No, that’s not what I want! I want one for the wall that doesn’t detach and one cord for my computer.”

Cores:  “Mary!  This is better!  Don’t you see?  It’s all in one!”

Mary:  “I don’t want it. Find another pink one.  I’m not even sure this one is the right shade of pink.”

Cores:  “Sigh.”

I should add that I ended up picking out that camera 5 minutes later because there wasn’t another pink Kodak and ended up telling Cores a month later that I thought I would hate the little USB plug thing but that I ended up loving it.  I cannot believe he is still my friend.   Now after reading all of this, I feel like no one will believe that I can read and write so I think once I bug the shit out of someone to help me learn how to upload photos on here, I will upload one of me reading The Pokey Little Puppy and writing notes in the margin.

Love Always, Lauren

So Rob found a note crumpled up in the parking lot of his apartment complex to a guy named Will from someone named Lauren.  This note had obviously been taped on someone’s door because there was still tape all over it and then Will had rolled it up and discarded it into the wet grass.  I am so unbelievably excited that this Will character would do such a thing, as this note has produced endless joy for me.  It has not been out of my possession since Thursday.  Anyway, when I figure out how to use my scanner (a ridiculous story in itself), I fully intend on posting the actual note onto the page, to prove that it’s real, but until then, I will type it verbatim, lack of punctuation, misspellings, everything.  Fortunately for me, Lauren numbered each page so I wouldn’t get lost.  Here goes:

Page 1

“Hey Will,

I drove 2 ur house after I got off work 2 see if u wanted 2 drink with me.  Ur car was there, but u didn’t answer.  I watched a movie drank and wanted 2 see u.  U weren’t there.  I tried 2 see if u were at Fedex or the liquor store but I couldn’t find u.  I had a barbacue at my job and I wanted u 2 come but I couldn’t call u and tell u.  I can’t call u after work and tell u how my day was or ask u about ur’s like usual.

Page 2

It finally hit me that u don’t want 2 give me your number because u don’t want 2.  I don’t blame u I’m a piece of shit.  I’m gonna miss u so much it hurts.  I loved u so much.  I fucked it up, I understand why u don’t want contact with me. But today I couldn’t call u, ask 2 see u, or anything, and I get it.  I can’t just be friends but I’m sure u don’t want 2 be lover’s anymore so that’s left me with the fact. U don’t want me 2 call u ok.

Page 3

I will stop looking 4 u and knocking on ur door I don’t want 2 bother u anymore. Maybe u were just being nice hanging out with me thank u I love when ur around.  But I get the hint I’ll leave u alone I hate driving around  town looking 4 u and missing u, and u don’t even want me 2 have ur number. I’m sorry and u were my best friend.

Love always,

Lauren”

Reflections:

Oh my shit, Lauren, where in the hell do I start with you?  I am legitimately overwhelmed because there is so much to ridicule in your note.  I kind of feel guilty for posting this because I’m afraid Metro schools will lose all of their funding.  Geez Lauren, do you not think of anyone but yourself?!

Ugh.  Lauren, I feel like the entirety of your relationship with Will was centered around drinking.  You’ve kind of confused me as to the sequence of events, but let me see if I’ve got this right.  You got off of work and drove all the way to Will’s apartment because you wanted to drink with him.  Will was not there and you couldn’t ask where he was because he refuses to give you his phone number, yet you know where he lives and what he drives?  So you knock on the door and he doesn’t answer, even though his car is there.

You go home and watch a movie and proceed to get drunk, which I might add, I’m kind of surprised with all the detail you are offering that we don’t know what movie you watched.  After you get drunk, you then think to yourself, “Where might Will be? His car is at home, but no one answered, but he couldn’t possibly be ignoring me, so since I’m already inebriated, let me go to Fedex and see if he’s there.”  So you drive drunk to Fedex and then when he’s not there, you drive to the liquor store.  He’s also not there and we all know there is only ONE fedex and ONE liquor store in Nashville.

I wish I knew you in person rather than paper, because I could’ve helped you.  Once when I was four and living in Mississippi, I got separated from my mom in the Walmart.  Well, logically, I hitched a ride to Nashville and went to the one Fedex and when she wasn’t there, I proceeded to go to the one liquor store in Nashville, when she wasn’t THERE either, I hitched a ride back to Ripley and found my mom in shampoo aisle.  Obviously if you weren’t such a drunk tramp, you’d have known what to do.

But that’s okay, no one’s mad at you, except for Will.  I noticed that you mentioned that you used to be able to call him after work and ask about his day, and tell him about yours.  So it seems that it’s not just that Will won’t give you his phone number, he’s clearly changed it because of you.  I admire your persistence though, you should be a lawyer.  If someone changed their number because I was a stalking skank and wouldn’t give it to me, then obviously  I would get drunk, drive to their apartment, drive around town, and then drive BACK to their apartment to leave a three page note.  Are you going to lie about being pregnant next?  Let’s hope so.  Maybe then you’d get his phone number.

I think it’s a little far fetched of you to assume that he doesn’t want to give you his phone number because he doesn’t want to.  Not only is that too deep for me to fully comprehend, it simply doesn’t make sense.  Why would someone not do something because they don’t want to do it?  Don’t be an idiotic stalker slut.  I don’t know why you’re going to stop driving around town looking for him.  He’s obviously into you, he’s just playing hard to get.  Keep trying so that Will can discard more notes for Rob to find.  For every gallon of wasted gas, reams of wasted paper, and DUIs, you are just one step closer to getting your best friend back.

By the way, a friend of mine is having surgery and I wanted to send her a care package.  If I left it in the parking lot, would you mind dropping it off at Fedex for me?  I’ll leave you a handle of Jack for your trouble.

Love always,

Mary

P.S.  I like how you put an apostrophe in the word “lover’s”  Things that are plural always need an apostrophe, people just don’t recognize it.  Good girl.

Dear Fat Man in the Dirty Van,

Dear fat man in the dirty van,

Okay really?  REALLY?  I don’t even know where to start with you.  Here I am, enjoying my morning commute to school, listening to my ipod when I look over at your wife beater wearing self.  Yuck.  I don’t know when it became acceptable in this universe to wear a wife beater and nothing over it, but this has got to stop.  Come on, man, your fat was hanging out of the arm pits!  Did you buy your mirror from a carnival or do you seriously think you look hot?  Anyway, let’s move on.

First of all, I appreciated how you french kissed your hand and then stuck your head out the window and blew it to me. I also appreciate how you then started picking your nose when you thought I had looked back at the light.  That was really sexy.  And as if I thought it couldn’t get hotter, you then proceeded to make a “muscle” and stick it out the window to impress me. Then, as if that weren’t enough, you licked your arm as if that would turn me on further.  By the way, I should mention that I like how your tattoo that says “Jesus” on it is right beside your NIN tattoo.  That is a real class act.  But guess what?  Do you realize that when you licked your arm, you licked JESUS, our lord and savior, in order to hit on me?  You not only put your nasty spit on Jesus’ name, you used him in order to turn me on.  Also, let me tell you something about your “muscles”.  NEWS FLASH:  They aren’t muscles.  Just because you have big arms, that doesn’t mean you have muscles.  Big arms can also mean you are fat, which you are.  Pretty sure muscles don’t jiggle.

Aside from all of this, you took a really big risk hitting on someone who was wearing sunglasses.  I mean, for all you know, I could’ve been hideous.  You NEVER hit on someone wearing sunglasses because you don’t know what you’re getting into.  That’s just common knowledge right there.  I guess I shouldn’t expect you to know that considering you licked Jesus, so I’ll let that slide.  But come on, man, you don’t know that I’m hot.  My sunglasses were covering half of my face so you’re lucky I wasn’t into it because A. I hadn’t showered that morning and B. I neglected to put on any sort of makeup.  So, I guess I did you a favor by screaming and turning right.  I didn’t even have to TURN RIGHT.  I was late to class just for you and because of you.

So here’s the deal:  You don’t ruin my morning commute with your lust, and I won’t set your van on fire.  I think that’s fair.

Sincerely,

Mary

P.S.  Wash your damn car.  You look like a kidnapper.

Dear Brad From the Gas Station

Dear Brad from the gas station,

First of all, I should let you know that our friendship is on very thin ice.  I thought we had a good thing going, I came into the store in the morning before class for a yellow gatorade and you charged me for it.  I loved that.  No where in our professional relationship was it stated that you were allowed to ruin my life.  This morning you horrified me.  I came into the gas station and much to my surprise, there was no yellow gatorade.  That’s fine, I could’ve settled for orange, but then you said to me, “Oh, we have more in the back, I’ll go get one for you.”  Words cannot describe my gratitude.  I appreciated you going into the back to grab my favorite flavor.  Little did I realize that what you would come back with was a store brand “sports tonic.”

First of all, how dare you?  How dare you promise me a gatorade and then grab a store brand drink as if I wouldn’t realize the difference.  Then when I questioned your judgement you insulted me further by saying, “Well it’s exactly the same thing.”  Where do you get off thinking such crazy thoughts?!  NO.  No it is not exactly the same.  Gatorade is its own special brand and you can’t substitute anything for it.  Ugh.  How dare you disrespect me!  If you came into my house and asked me for a Poptart, I wouldn’t offer you a store brand toaster pastry and tell you it’s the same thing.  That’s because I understand that it’s not.  I have some pride when I grocery shop, unlike you.

So here’s the deal, Brad.  You have one more chance.  If I get to that gas station tomorrow and there is no yellow gatorade and you try to offer me the store brand “sports tonic”, I will rip off your ass and make you eat it.  See you tomorrow.

Love,

Mary