Dear kids upstairs,
When you scream, the sound travels through the vents. This began at 8 am, after the vacuuming you did at 11:30 last night. Listen to your yelling mother: shut up. And if your temper tantrum doesn’t stop, I’m going to come up there with a frying pan.
I hear it’s Girl Scout Cookie season! Please send Thin Mints or I’m never coming home.
Dear Zooey Deschanel,
Thank you for validating my obsession with cardigans. We were probably meant to be sisters, something just went wrong.
I want to be you,
Dear High Schoolers,
Some advice: take the art class. You won’t regret getting a little messy. You might regret chem.
Why is it you think the only job I am qualified for involves donating my uterus?