Dear dood who pulled his POS van out in front of me, an oncoming car and the Polar Soda guy,
Watch where you're going, asshole.
Yours in road rage,
Dear lady at the pool,
If I can smell your Liz Sport or Lauren by Ralph Lauren over the chlorine, from three lanes away? You are wearing too much. It's perfume, not marinade.
Yours in nasal offendedness,
What the FUCK is going on? Why do you keep fading the words and pictures in and out? Do NOT shit the bed on me or it's to the dump with you. You have been warned. Don't make me put a new video card in you, you money-sucking hog.
Yours in MS loathing,
Sayonara, you ungrateful hump.
Yours in Jason Bay-bandwagon-jumping,