An Open Letter to the Note-Leaver at Target

Why thank you, dear, for the suggestion that I be more careful and respectful of others. I am so sorry your door was dented.


When I parked there were at least two spaces on each side of my car. I remember thinking, “This is the perfect time of day to go to Target! I can park as close as I want and no one is even near me!”. Then I joked with my kid, with whom I was having one of those rare and sparkly days when we were both happy and joking even though I had the kind of menstrual-induced crankiness that would make me drop-kick Santa Claus in the face. That we were having a great day in the face of my mood is, without hyperbole, a miracle.

You sea donkey fuck stick moron.

If I knew who you were, or what kind of car you drove, I would leave you this note:


You presumed without fact, and it nearly ruined my day.

Without watching the security cameras, it is impossible to know who parked beside you or when they arrived and departed.

I can only assume that you are the kind of person who believes that everything

is the fault of another. I’m sorry for that. It must be an unpleasant way of being. Stressful, I imagine, and frustrating.

Please don’t assume when you don’t know.

Also be careful of what you say, and kinder to others.

And yes, my tendency to let the opinions of others govern my emotions and moods is completely unhealthy. I’m working on it. I don’t expect any improvement for awhile though, because all of my mental energy is being used in my quest to not sleep away my entire summer. This means that I am rising early, and I don’t like it yet.

xoxo bitches. I’m making more coffee.


‘Round Here.

Amid my two barking dogs, who are barking so fiercely that it sounds like Michael Vick’s backyard, this is what’s happening:


It fits perfectly!

I’m using my fancy-shmancy running shoes as a beer holder… it’s the only action they’ve seen lately.

I spent last night googling “severe PMS”, “intense PMS”, and “PMDD”. So far this week I have cried in class (twice), at a soccer game, multiple times during my statistics exam, and every time I’m in the car. Nothing is actually wrong. I swear. Apparently too much caffeine, a crappy diet and no exercise exacerbates PMS. Sorry all – but I want to punch everything in the face: my dogs, humans, this computer, and this couch. I’ll give you the all clear when I’m my normal crabby non-crying self.

Colby and I just ate hot dogs, white bread buns, canned green beans, and jalepeno poppers for supper. We both feel like total shit. Off the wagon much?

As I write, Bella is sitting half on me and is trying to bite my fingers as I type. It’s taken me about 4,000 hours to write this so far. Now I want to punch her in the face. Except violence is not the answer. I’m just going to finish my beer and go to bed.

Lot’s of good stuff is happening though, really.  I’ll fill you in when I’m no longer entirely consumed by my own crabbiness.

I need some good vibes, people. Send ’em my way.