In honor of Liz, a series of short open letters:
Dear 10 Freeway,
You were KILLING me this morning. When I passed by that traffic sign that tells how long it's suppose to take you to get to downtown I almost stopped my car right there on the freeway. 130 minutes to drive 30 miles is kind of ridiculous, don't you think?
Lately, Rachel
Dear Parent who calls me 3 times a Day:
Please stop calling me. Please. Pretty please. Don't call me at 10 and then again at 11 to repeat the same thing. I got it the first time. I also got it on Friday. All three times. And on Thursday. No, I'm not going to give you that teacher's home phone number. It's not going to happen. You'll have to wait. And while you're waiting, please don't call me. Please, please, please stop calling me.
Seriously, Rachel
Dear PBS:
Because I'm a really old woman I like to watch Mystery! on Sunday night. But also because I'm old I tend to fall asleep during it. Could you please rerun the episode from last night? I fell asleep right before we found out who killed that guy.
Curiously, Rachel
3 comments:
Amen Sister!
I made it! Mecca is sweet.
You know to look on the positive side, I didn't know I could do such a good Linda Blair impression until I started driving the freeways daily. Yay for the silver Satan lining!
Remind me to give you my reading list update:)
-Emmy
I didn't see that episode of Mystery, but the caretaker did it. He always does. Or is that in Nancy Drew? Either way, I'm sure it was someone British.
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