To Whom is may concern:

Dear Facebook:
    This relationship isn't working for me. I don't like anything about you. You bring me to a dangerous place of wrath. So I'm kicking you to the curb. Don't worry you'll find some other sucker to take my place soon. CBS news tell me you'll have a half billion users by the end of the week. Here's the inside scoop in case you didn't know: they're all just using you.

Dear Car Window Silhouettes:

     You are a hopeless show-off. I don't care if you have 48 children and superior fertility. When I went to elementary school they called this sort of behaviour "bragging". What's your excuse?

Dear La Lorenzo MD Pathology Consultants,

I appreciate your prompt medical billing. Seeing as it's been 91 days since my hospital stay and I received your bill this afternoon for 175.00.

Your check is in the mail.

HA HA

Dear 100 degree heat:

My armpits smell like 2 day old roadkill thanks to you.

Dear High School Nemesis:

Thank you for gaining 20 pounds since high school. I see that 13 years has not dulled your mean-streak or abrasive personality.

See you never,

Your high school 'buddy'

Dear Self:

What the hell is wrong with you? It's been 13 years let the bitterness go.

Dear Sprint:

I just want my phone fixed. I am not tying to rip you off. Well, in the beginning I wasn't, now I am.

Game on.

Dear Starbucks Lady:

Thanks for the advice on the tattoo's with my morning caffeine. I'd never considered those options.

Dear Gay Waiter at PF Chang's:

YOU'RE NOT GAY.

Even though you say you are. I think it a ruse to get numbers.

 Well played.

Dear Babies of the World:

Quit looking at me, smiling, laughing, or doing anything adorable. If possible please force your mother into another check-out lane at Target. Or even better, start throwing temper tantrums, puking in public, screaming and fighting with your siblings. Then I'll get snapped back to reality.

Dear Biological Clock:

Shut up. I know what you want, and I can't do anything about it.

Dear Fellow Homeschooling Moms:

 I just look bad compared to you.

You over achievers.

Dear Statistics:

You make me sick. I am tried on of being on the wrong side. Especially this one:

<2.5 112 42 38%

(if you don't know what this one means...ask)

Dear Freaky Dreams:

Desta Hughes (old high school friend) and Seth Meyers (from SNL) will never be together no matter how much my subconscious tried to tell me they are. And no they don't have a really cute 2 year old and no we didn't go to their mansion for drinks.

Dear Dryer:

Due to your low performance, napping on the job, and trying my Christian patience.

I'm letting you go.

No, I'm not giving you a recommendation.

Dear Son:

That compliment you gave me (the one about me looking like my high school nemesis)  wasn't really a compliment. But I love you too much to be picky about it.

Dear Backache:

Thank you for my fantastic attitude, full range of motion, and superior level of comfort.

I hate you.