If I Could Write Letters to Other Drivers

Dear grandpa driving the Buick,

There is no speed zone labeled "slow crawl." That handicapped license plate does not give you permission to drive handicapped. It's all about the parking. That's it.


Dear asshole that took the spot at the front of the store meant for pregnant women and mothers with babies,

You're an asshole. Either you didn't have a baby or you left it in the car. I'm pretty sure that's not what the grocery store had in mind.



Dear person driving the green Neon,

I have seen people drive faster in a parade, for God's sake.



Dear genius with the pit bull in the front seat and the baby seat in the back,

Really? That seems like a good idea? I mean, really?

It's Really Not THAT Noticeable

I have been suffering with a cold for the last week. I don’t get sick frequently so I really must complain and I feel justified since I haven’t whined (on the internet anyway) lately. Not since this time. Oh, and there was this time too.

Compared to the other illnesses, this isn’t that bad. Except for the constant coughing, nose blowing, and a cold sore the size of a damn Volkswagen. The last thing is undoubtedly the worst part. It is so horrifying that I try to limit contact with other people. Katie stares at it any time she is within a five-foot radius. She asked questions at first and clearly finds it repulsive. She gets a disgusted look on her face like she is being forced to watch surgery on The Discovery Channel. I keep telling her to come over and give me a big kiss but she just shrieks and runs. *Sigh*… I’m a monster.