A Letter

Dear Fast Food Worker,
Since our relationship is so near to my heart I’ve decided to write you this letter. I understand that our relationship is often rocky and I’d really like for us to fix that.

First off, I want to offer you an apology since you seem to feel you deserve one. I’m sorry your job sucks. I understand how working such a taxing job may wear on you. However, I’d like for you to consider that I did not encourage you to make do with a high school education nor did I encourage you to develop a rap sheet that would exclude you from other jobs. So please, dear fast food worker, try to refrain from taking your frustrations out on me.

Secondly, I’d like for us to make some compromises. As every good relationship is based on compromise I’m sure you’ll be willing to agree. I’d like for you not to thrust my bag of greasy breakfast out the window and say “here” first thing in the morning. If you continue to do this I may be inclined to turn my car off, lurch through the window, and stab you to death with my keys. This, of course, would bring an end to our union and I really don’t want that. Also when I approach the counter and you’re on your cell phone, I’d like you to hang up immediately and not indicate I should wait for you to finish your call. If you continue to do this I might grab you by your hair and slam your face against the counter until you’re unconscious and then pick up the register and smash your skull. Again, these actions would ruin the beautiful bond we share. Speaking of the counter I’d also like for you to stop asking me “can I help you” with so much attitude that I know you really mean “what the hell do you want” when I approach. This interaction may also force me to utilize the counter in splattering your brain. Of course, in the spirit of compromise, if you do these things for me I promise that I will do my best to order the most simply made items from the menu and to never enter your establishment dressed like a Wal-creature.

I think that if we both agree to make these changes our bond will stand the test of time. I only want what is best for us and I hope that by writing this letter I’ve proven that to you. Thank you for all that you do, fast food worker, without you I’d never see so many of the calories I’ve seen.

Sincerely,
N

Spending Money I Don’t Have

We haven’t filed our taxes yet. (Easy Mr. IRS, we’re gonna get it done.) But I’ve already spent our refund in my mind. It’s going to go to redoing some floors (bye-bye cheap linoleum in the guest bathroom) and replacing our super old windows with new energy efficient ones (hello lower electric bill). This is all functional stuff that we really need to get done. However, what I really wish we could do with the funds is put some work into our master bathroom.

I love bathrooms. I love taking long baths where I have to run more hot water because it’s went from blazing hot to lukewarm in the hour I’ve been lounging about. I love sitting on the counter talking to the boy while he showers. I love having nice cool tile to lay my fevered cheek on when I’ve drank far more than my stomach can appreciate and I’m praying to the gods of beer to finally be able to upchuck (I can’t throw up. Nice affliction on occasion but a painful ailment when too boozed up). So I want my bathroom to be 100% awesome (instead of the 80% awesome it is now) like these

All images from HGTV.com.

Shamelessly Trying to Sell Something

I have what I like to refer to as a shopping problem. I buy things I probably will never use for reasons that I don’t always understand. After seeing the horror that is Hoarders, I decided it’s time to start getting rid of stuff. Two cheers for Ebay!

I had two different sets of curtains with no windows to call home in my closet. I already sold the first set and now this one

is available for purchase if you happen to have the winning bid.

So there’s my shameful plug. Promise to have something more interesting to say in the next post.