Dear People Who Saw Me on The Dance Floor Saturday Night,
I know. I can’t believe I’m that good of a dance either. It’s like I’m the love child of that chick from Flashdance and that creepy Lord of the Dance dude. Plus a hint of Justin Timberlake. All mixed together and fueled by rum.
dancing into your hearts,
Dear blog, life, blog and life,
I miss you
Dear man who sat beside me in the literacy conference yesterday,
You need to re-think your food choices because what was going on there was pretty nasty. And since I suspect it’s rude to pull out a gas mask when sitting beside someone, please respect my choice to find a different seat for today’s eleventy thousand hour long conference.
Maybe less Mexican food,
Dear eleventy thousand hour long conference,
I hate you with every particle of my being.
I hate you,
I hope your birthday is magical.
Dear all fellow blackberry users who are on my bbm list,
Expect multiple messages from me today discussing how my day is being wasted by listening to strangers tell me that I shouldn’t tell parents to ‘fuck off’ if I’m angry at them and I should also not participate in wet t-shirt contests in my spare time. Even if I know I could win. (Because let’s face it, I would). I will try to keep the swearing down to a minimum. Ditto excessive exclamation marks (which will be the only way I feel I can clearly illustrate my rage).
Sorry in advance,