Dear Women In My Office,
If it is warm enough for shorts, it is too warm for your Uggs. If it is cold enough for Uggs, it is too cold for shorts. And neither of those things are office wear you fucking morons.
Dear Woman I See Walking Nearly Every Day,
Your baby is beautiful and bald. Stop gluing that fucking disco ball thing to her damn head. It looks like a sparkling tumor. SHE IS A GIRL WE GET IT.
Dear Baby Girl,
Oh you are the apple of my eye. Now let me fucking sleep. Getting Mama up every two hours is a good way to get yourself written out of the will which is tough to do when you are the sole heir and yet? You are managing. Get it together.
I know you are tired. And people are wearing seasonally inappropriate clothes and gluing weird shit to baby heads. But this migraine shit has got to stop. Six days straight you have been all hurty. Please stop. I beg of you.
The Rest of You
Please stop falling out everywhere. I find you on the floor, in the toaster, in my shoes, in the baby's diaper. It is all very upsetting. I am pleased that you are falling out because the thickness was asinine but could you do it in efficient chunks? Perhaps that fall automatically into the trash? Thanks.