Dear Guy in Mercedes on the 405,
Yes, I know you think you own the road because you drive a fucking Mercedes. Yes, I know it’s all the rage to talk on your phone while you’re in your car. But the problem is, you’re in your car to drive and not to talk on the phone, so pay some damn attention to the 1-ton killing machine you’re in charge of, not your goddamn phone, because you literally ran me off the road into the shoulder because you decided you just HAD to be in my lane without signalling or paying any attention to my horn-blowing or anything.
Dear Neighbor,
Don’t get pissy with me over your laundry when you leave it in the laundry room for, oh, say, six fucking hours with the same clothes just sitting in the washer and dryer. Your lame excuse of looking for quarters won’t fly. We live less than 500 yards away from a 24-hour supermarket. In six hours, a quadriplegic with MS could’ve made it to the Ralph’s, gotten a roll of quarters, come back and read an entire issue of Us Weekly. So forgive me for not letting you hog the machines while your clothes just sat there, some of us needed to wash our laundry.
Dear Horoscopes,
Stop making it so damn convenient to put stuff off. When you tell me “The worst thing you can do is to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do,” well, that’s just all the ammunition I need to slack off and ditch the gym for another day.
Dear Oil Companies,
What the fuck is still up with these gas prices? I can’t believe that three years ago, we were upset because gas was approaching $1.75 per gallon. Now we think it’s cheap if it’s anywhere in the neighborhood of $3 per gallon. (I filled up at the el cheapo station near the office earlier this week for $3.11.) And yet some dude gets to retire from an oil company and score a $430 million pension, and the companies are all reporting record profits? Yeah, keep telling me about how the price of oil in the Middle East is going up. I guarantee you that gas prices will start to come down the closer we get to the election next year.