This is your own fault, really.
You know when you sit down to send me an email I will reply to you in a nice, perfectly normal and not at all crazy way. You also know I might then take that very same email and post it here where I will draw attention to you in a potentially unflattering way and say things that might make you think I am bloated and crampy.
I have only recently found your blog and I'm busy trying to read all of your old posts. Regarding today's post on bowling...not only are you forced to wear shoes that are hideous and previously worn by God knows whom....you are also forced to put your fingers into holes that other people have put their fingers in to also. These would be fingers that have been put in places that you don't EVEN want to think about.
Bowling is just disgusting. And yes, bowling alleys do smell like Monkey Ass~
Dear Chick who just put a horrible thought in my obsessive-compulsive head,
Thanks for that. Now that’s all I can think about.
LOVE LOVE LOVE your blog...look at all those capital letters!!!! And exclamation points!!! I LOVE it so much I want to comment, but I am either A) dumb and can't figure out where to do so or B) you don't have a comment option...
Dear BEST READER EVER!!!!
I love, love, love capital letters and exclamation points!!! In fact, the only thing I love more are superfluous words and aching body parts. Next time try to say something like, “Dear Sher, I adore your cogitations. They make my heart leap with joy and my loins ache with envy.”
BTW, to comment, go to the very bottom of the post (beneath the Yahoo feed button) and in very tiny letters you will see the word “comments”. Click, sign in (it’s free… don’t freak out) and say something nice.
…your picture (on the blog) has been replaced by a toad.
Dear Astute Reader,
I’m sorry. I thought my readers might like to see my first ex-husband.
I find it hard to believe that a dead mouse could land in your lap without some sort of two-minute warning. But, the world is full of strange things. Being obsessed with forensics I would have had to determine the cause and precise time of death, and rule out foul play.
Dear CSI Mouseville,
Don’t bother trying to rule out foul play. The Evil Red-Headed Berta Lou is all about foul play. That’s why she’s my best friend.
Hello, Wow... a lot of things to consider in this page on the mule rides down the grand canyon!! I'm writing because I just heard that not too long ago..one of the mules did have a heart attack and him with his rider fell over the edge of course killing both. Hmmmmm....wonder why that didnt headline the news??!!!
I knew it! Clearly I am a psychic. Or a mule whisperer. Or drunk.
Just wanted to mention that in your little kidnapping scheme you might want to stop by NASA and pickup one of those spiffy diapers.
On another note, I went to hear Susan Powter speak last night in Reno. I am starting to wonder if she is ripping off some of your rants? You might want to investigate..........
Dear Lisa Nowak,
I appreciate the kidnapping tip, but this ain’t my first time at the criminal rodeo. I was using adult kidnapping garments long before you made it cool.
Oh I will investigate alright. Susan Powter is going down. She may be psychotic and weirdly thin, but I am an obsessive-compulsive woman who is about to turn 43 and still hasn’t figured out the secret of life. I have a rage she won’t even see coming until I have popped the top on a big fizzy can of whoop ass.
Have the words "blunt force trauma" ever been associated with the departure of any of your ex-husbands?
Dear Toad Suck Guy,
I recently discovered your site and I am a big fan of your work! I wondered if you had ever thought about writing greetings cards.
Dear Fan of Me,
In fact I have written several, but none have yet been published. What do you think of this one?
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Don’t even think about cheating on me or I will cut off your family jewels and hang them from the tree in the front yard so that all the neighbors will know you are a jewel-less, pathetic excuse for a cheating man.
How about this one?
Happy Birthday to a great co-worker from the whole gang…
You really need to lose a few pounds and brush your teeth once in awhile. Oh, and a little less Avon Scent of Old Lady Parfum might not hurt either.
OK. I hate myself for loving this song, but I can't even help it. Don't tell anybody.
Hinder: Better Than Me.
Copyright © 2004-2007, Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Tell me you love me at: HumorWriter@gmail.com
Tell me you hate me at: Yeah. I'm so sure I'm going to make that easy for you.