Dear New Bottle Shop,
You suck. There are no prices on any of your bottles and I have to ask you about each individual one. Buy a price gun, dont't come hover over me and mouth-breathe the prices as I point. Want to know what I know about wine? Nothing, I just want what's cheapest. I hate you for making it impossible for me to get out the door quickly and brown-bag it the rest of the way home. Know what I did? I passed by your store and walked an extra half mile on the hottest effing day ever to go to The Wine Thief. I sweated a bucket and panted walking in and my shorts are cotton so it looked like I sat in a swimming pool. That is how dedicated I am to hating you now. Jerks.
Dear fat girl on a bicycle,
You wobbled so much that you almost ran into me. You should get some training wheels on that sucker. You are not supposed to be on the sidewalk. You are welcome for not clothes-lining you.
Dear New Boss,
No, I am not staying late on a Friday night on my first week. Now I am worried that I work for a crackhead.
Dear True Blood,
There are not enough boobs on your show, please add more. Also, I want to see some shaft, please.
Best,
Rachel
Totally with you on the shaft.
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