Thursday, August 27, 2009


Dear Jerks lingering at the top of the stairs so that I can barely get by and end up splashing hot coffee on my arm while trying, and you don't move AT ALL as if I am invisible:

You suck. Your family sucks. You have something in your teeth. There is no Santa Claus. I replaced your birth control with tic-tacs. Your mothers don't love you. And, there's dog poo on your shoe.

See you in hell!

1 comment:

die Frau said...

I never understood how people could have conversations standing in busy stairwells. I may or may not admit to an urge to push them down the stairs.

Oh, they'll be in hell. AND IT WILL BE AN ENDLESS, NARROW STAIRCASE. With Muzak supplied by Celine Dion.