(Here's the first post.)
Dear ATV Quad,
You continually pollute my neighborhood nightly with your thundering motor, and I must say that it has me at my wit's end. Perhaps there is some deeper issue involved with your need to make yourself be spotted by others. Do you desire to someday be taken seriously as a proper form of transportation? Have you developed an inferiority complex to the SUVs careening on the roads? Or are you just trying to exert your unattainable Monster Truck aspirations?
Also, I don't want to burst your bubble, but when you zoom down the streets without a care in the world, you release a loud noise that sounds like successive farts being shot from a machine gun. That cannot possibly be normal and healthy, right?
I suggest that you lay off the beans and consult a doctor about your psychological and gastrointestinal issues asap.
Dear Miami Traffic,
You have the worst drivers in the world, and they all seem to come out when I decide to take the wheel of my car. Why don't we get together and coordinate a plan in which you shunt the swerving one-handed monkeys away from my path? And please remind people that the turn signal does have a perfunctory purpose: it is to warn me when they are going to turn. Somehow, this concept seems foreign to your drivers.
Dear Alarm Clock,
You had better wake me up in time tomorrow for my appointment to the French consulate. I need a visa if I am expected to remain in France for more than 90 days. Fail at your sole responsibility and I'll gladly introduce you to Mr. Garbage Can.
I'm afraid that you and I are going to have to part ways soon. You no longer sit comfortably on my waist nor outline my hips and enormous buttocks anymore. In fact, I was staring at you the other day and I had to gasp at how much of my underwear I could see peeking from the gaps just above your waistline.
This really isn't your fault. It's the Fat's. I hate having the Fat control me by giving me a negative self-image about my body. I just need to move on to something better and I'm getting smaller, my friend. Please wish me the best of luck of finding someone half as good as you were.
Dear Fat in My Body,
Maybe it's a little too early to declare victory, but I've already lost 15.6 pounds of you. If I keep up my strength exercises and my evening walks, I shall soon get rid of the other 72.4 pounds.
Ha, ha, ha! See ya later, sucker!
Dear Exercise Shoes,
Thank you so much for tolerating every step I have taken to date. I don't know where I would be without you guys. Let's meet at the same time tomorrow, okay?
Dear Car Horn,
Honking at me as I walk around doesn't really flatter me. It also makes me question your level of maturity; if tooting abruptly whenever you see me is your main form of entertainment, then you obviously need to grow up.
Barb the French Bean
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
(Here's the first post.)