Letters 3

Dear Jerk who drives the speed limit,

First things first: this is Michigan, whatever the speed limit says, add 5 or 10 to it and drive it. Okay? I should not look at my speedometer and have it tell me I am driving anything less than 25 mph ANYWHERE. But when I am stuck behind you, on Catalpa, in the summer, school has been out for a month, I should not be catching up to your ass while cruising. When I get stuck behind you right after Woodward, that is worse. That means I have to follow you all the way back to my house. Let me check how fast you are going; 16 mother-f***ing miles per hour?!?? Are you really Sh*tting me? I JUST GOT OFF WORK AND I WANT TO EAT HURRY THE F UP. Jeez.

Dear Stupid people I work with,

I could care less about whatever the hell you are talking to me about. Really. Your step-son? Don't care. You are going to play some crappy video game when you get home? Don't care. Your children don't do their chores and have an attitude? Really don't freakin' care. Next time you try to say something to me, if I have not already stopped listening, I am either going to tell you straight up that I do not care or I will just walk away while you are talking. I have had more than enough.

Dear Call of Duty 4 player who throws a random grenade over three walls, a building, a street, a truck, some boxes, and a river, just to have it land directly under my feet,

THERE IS NO WAY YOU KNEW I WAS THERE. HOW THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?