Letters I'd Like To Send

Dear Bill Gates:

My new Macbook arrived yesterday and you can kiss my lily-white ass, old buddy. No software mumbo-jumbo. No CDs to mess with. No drivers to load. Plug and play, right out of the box. Built-in calendar. Super email program. Outstanding photo editing program. No viruses. Couldn't. Be. Easier. And I am in loooooooooooove. 

Tell your buddy Mr. Dell he can have a smooch too. Tech support, by phone and in person, for three years. In the U.S. No more calls to India to have somebody read the owner's manual to me in halting English while claiming to be named "Bill." By the way, I can read the damned manual myself.

Rock on, Steve Jobs. Rock ON.

Love,

Converted Kim

*~*~*~*~*

Dear DH:

If you waffle on the house once more, I swear I'm going to stuff you in the toaster. Pick a direction and go that way. I'm begging.

Love,

Your Irritated Wife

*~*~*~*

Dear Discovery Channel:

We get it. Catching Alaskan crabs is hard, dangerous work. Seriously. We understand. It's awe-inspiring. Now could you please put something else on occasionally? And while we're chatting, ixnay on the Ford Truck promos. You're above that.

XOXO

A Former Mike Rowe Fan

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Dear Cashier at the Grocery Store:

I'm not sure what reaction you expected when you told me that "your boy" who was driving "got locked up" and you had to walk home last night, but impressed isn't on the list. Just scan.

Sincerely,

Not A Posse Member

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Dear John McCain:

Shut UP about ethanol, OK? Just shut up. 

Love,

All The Republicans Who Read Once In Awhile

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My Darling Children:

Enough with the singing of the entire High School Musical soundtrack. Mommy's brain is trying to squeeze out of her ears and make a run for it, and that's not entirely comfortable for Mommy. There are 11 weeks left until school starts. Please, for your loving mother who endured a collective 30 hours of labor and two unmedicated births (NOT by choice), choose another song. You'll inherit more in the end if you let me live longer.

Love,

Mommy (It's hard to believe that I couldn't see, you were always there beside me...)

*~*~*~*

Dear Spanish Telemarketers:

I swear to God, I don't speak the language. You can stop calling me.

Thanks-

Kim, the native English speaker and ignorant single-languaged American