To the lovers today:
So today is Valentine's Day. I hate Valentine's Day. Even in the midst of a love affair with a rich man I would hate Valentine's Day. I rank it right up there with weddings and funerals as a waste of money that would be better spent on something important or at least useful. If you want to impress me it's going to take more than flowers that I am allergic to and a box of candy. I want a valentine that fills my car up with gas and stocks my freezer with filet mignon. You want to show me how much you love me then clean my damn house for me and throw a couple loads of laundry in. Trust me on this guys, because in a few days those flowers are going to start smelling and just be something I have to throw out. The inconvenience of that is only going to make me hate you. The candy? I have no willpower so I am going to scarf that down the first day and then look at you wishing you would just go away so I can lay miserably on my couch and bloat in peace.
To the policeman on duty last night:
You accompanied a car accident victim to the ER. While I understand it was a car chase and he was running from you I also understand that he is only a 21 year old kid. This kid is going to die over a chase that should never have been initiated in the first place considering his crime was writing a $65 bad check. You have him handcuffed behind the back and in leg chains, you refused to remove them so we can work on him. He is in a coma for God's sake, just what kind of danger do you think he presents? Even if he wasn't in a coma he has a broken neck, internal bleeding, all of his ribs are broken, two broken legs and a broken arm. How fucking far do you think he would get running? I am pretty sure I can catch him if he makes a break for it. I'm very sorry that pan of his vomit accidentally got spilled on you, sometimes I can be a little clumsy.
To my son:
No I don't feel bad that your girlfriend didn't get to go to Birmingham in my car, on my credit card and have a nice dinner on Valentine's Day. I do, however, feel bad for myself that I had to listen to her whine and take long breaths every 5 minutes to express her deep disappointment. Get ready for it because in approximately 15 minutes I am going to fuck up her entire Valentine's Day by announcing I am not cooking dinner for her tonight either. This may be more than she can bear. You might want to start apologizing to her now.
To my dogs:
Seriously Lola you just had to shit in the bathroom doorway last night knowing I never turn a light on early in the morning? While I love you and can appreciate your need to protest being left alone that was a bit much, I was barefooted.
To the mailman:
Please don't ever ring my doorbell and let me open it to you cheerily singing "Happy Valentine's Day" again. You really did look like an idiot. Just put my mail in the damn box like all normal mail carriers do. I was up all night, I needed to sleep. I would have been just fine without your holiday wishes. If you must you can write me a little note next year and put it IN THE MAILBOX.
To the Whitney Houston Facebook mourners:
I really don't want to see another tribute or music video posted on my Facebook timeline about Whitney. She is dead and not reading your Facebook pages, I doubt her family is either. I am alive and it is irritating the shit out of me having to delete them. I would much rather see clips of the reality show her and Bobby did. Now that was Whitney at her finest! I kind of liked crazy drugged up Whitney, she was far more interesting than the saint everyone is making her out to be now that she is dead. I will never understand why people do this when someone famous dies.
To the pit bull upstairs:
First I would like to apologize to you for the idiots that think it is OK to keep you shut up on that small patio all the time. Your a beautiful dog and it breaks my heart to see that you never get to go outside to play or exercise. That being said I have a little favor to ask of you. The next time, which actually appears to be tonight based on the sounds coming from upstairs, that your Dad decides to beat the shit out of your Mom can't you attack him or something? You have no trouble acting like your going to eat me every time I step out my front door so it really shouldn't be all that hard for you. I'm starting to look like an idiot for calling the police every time I hear your Mom scream for help. It's not that I mind helping her but she kind of blows it when the police come and she tells them she has no idea what I am talking about. I think it's your turn to protect her. Frankly, I'm getting a little tired of trying. I wouldn't mind if you chewed up the remote control to their stereo either. Just a thought.
To my son's girlfriend:
Yeah, that teary eyed sniffing doesn't work on me either. I guarantee you will give up before I do so save us both some time and just stop it now.
To the makers of Calgon:
What is with this false advertising? I have been a faithful user for years and I'm still waiting for you to "take me away". I think you might be blowing smoke up my ass to make sales.
To the makers of Klonopin:
I hold you in the highest esteem. I need you like I need the air to breath. You and you alone are my Valentine!
To Bojangles Chicken:
I love you. I'm sorry I cheated on you with Ronald McDonald last night.