(no subject)

Dear Random Guy on the Bus:

You may think you recognize me, but please don't touch me on the knee to get my attention. Especially since you are on a cell phone, and are thus incapable of immediately explaining who you are and why you felt the need to touch me.

No, we don't know each other from somewhere. If that was supposed to be a pickup line, you should have followed up with something. As it was, I turned away and took my morning nap.

No love,
Me

-----

Dear Price Lists:

Make sense NOW. Or else.

Double no love with stupid numbers,
Me

(no subject)

(666 x 666) + 666 = 444222

Wacky.

MOTHERFUCKING PRICELISTS DIEEEEEEEEEE!

(no subject)

Yeah, so that whole ballroom dancing thing.

Apparently, my sister and my mother also both wanted to take it up (wholly separately from me), but now I kind of don't want to because my mother went into a hysterical fit of laughing trying to imagine Patrick ballroom dancing.

This annoys me. A lot.

So back to square one (or musical theatre, or maybe voice lessons).