Ten Things I Need To Get Off My Chest (In a Shamelessly Rip-offy Fashion)
Dear Power Surge,
I had just convinced Marty that going back to hourly care was going to be a nonstop laugh riot. Why would you come through at exactly 9:00 and set off the fire alarm, just as I’m reaching for the pen to sign him in? On 9/11 no less? Clearly the power has gone to your head.
You’re grounded – Shannon
Dear Weather Channel,
Good God enough already! I think you can rest assured that all of America considers you THE HURRICANE AUTHORITY, and no little start up weather channel is going to try to steal your thunder (hah). No one is going to turn on ESPN or HGTV looking for hurricane updates. Although American schools may be failing, most people can probably figure out that when you want to hear about the weather you should look on the Weather Channel. Oh, and please, please, get Jim Cantore a hobby – no one should wear a look of such intense concern for such a long period of time.
Love, THE ANNOYANCE AUTHORITY
Dear Vacuum Cleaner,
I wish you were a person so I could tell you how much I hate you.
Hatefully, Shannon
Dear Roller Skates,
I know Lauren was getting too big for her britches, saying she had you figured out, but was that really necessary? To twist her ankle in a manner that makes the Joe Thiesman/Lawrence Taylor leg break look like a mere stumble over a bump in the sidewalk?
You are very lucky that she is made of rubber - Shannon
Dear Fly in the Kitchen,
How exactly has evolution allowed you to live, when instead of resting on a half eaten cookie, you insist upon resting on my head? That sort of behavior can only bring about a rampage that will be visited on your head (actually your whole self) and all of your ancestors/descendants.
When you least expect it, expect it - Shannon
PS. Whoever named you a “fly” was obviously a linguistic genius.
Dear Carroll,
Why do you hate me? Don’t sit there and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. What possible other explanation could there be for leaving this open and running on the toyroom computer? That’s not what sisters do. I have a problem and you’re the one who gave me the crack.
My children are dirty and unfed, and it’s your fault - Shannon
Dear Spider Solitaire,
How can you consider yourself a game when there is no guarantee that you have a solution? How am I supposed to know if it is your fault or my fault when I can’t complete you? Why can’t you be more like your cousin Freecell?
Go away! – Shannon
Dear Hair,
What happened to you? My entire life is based on the fact that I can usually get you in order, even if everything else is a mess. Suddenly you have become some sort of humidity junkie and insist upon sticking out and being frizzy if there is a drop of water anywhere within a three mile radius. Can’t you read the descriptions on the product bottles? I’ve got four things at work trying to keep you down, and still you’re out there nipping at the humidity.
Cut it out… or I’ll cut you - Shannon
Dear Miles O'Brien,
I saw your staged dog rescue after Hurricane Katrina. I can still see you standing there, having your makeup retouched, waiting to go live while that poor dog was trapped. Do you think Walter Cronkite would have put on such a performance? Anyway, once you said: “What’s that? I hear something! I think a dog may be trapped in this debris pile!! Come here! Let’s check! There is a dog! Helloooo pupppeee!!! Good doggie!! Oooooo pupppeee, such a good boy!” etc, etc, you lost all credibility with me (granted, I had never seen you before, so I don’t know if you would have ever had any credibility with me). You are a twit.
The only reason I stopped on your newscast this morning is that I saw you were interviewing the HP’s boss from Afghanistan. First you quote an editorial saying that we do not have enough resources in Afghanistan. Then you asked the general how the poppy crop could have increased this year (in a manner, I might add, that seems to indicate that you think the American troops may have planted the additional poppy crops). Then when the general was attempting to explain the situation to you, you interrupted him to reask the question because you remembered you wanted to say “How could this situation literally BLOOM under your noses?” Sooo clever! That’s not “asking the tough questions,” that’s “being a moronic ass.”
Get Over Yourself - Shannon
Dear Erin,
How does it feel to have your signature blogging format unapologetically stolen by your big sister? Hee hee hee hee!
Update your blog - Shannon
I had just convinced Marty that going back to hourly care was going to be a nonstop laugh riot. Why would you come through at exactly 9:00 and set off the fire alarm, just as I’m reaching for the pen to sign him in? On 9/11 no less? Clearly the power has gone to your head.
You’re grounded – Shannon
*******************
Dear Weather Channel,
Good God enough already! I think you can rest assured that all of America considers you THE HURRICANE AUTHORITY, and no little start up weather channel is going to try to steal your thunder (hah). No one is going to turn on ESPN or HGTV looking for hurricane updates. Although American schools may be failing, most people can probably figure out that when you want to hear about the weather you should look on the Weather Channel. Oh, and please, please, get Jim Cantore a hobby – no one should wear a look of such intense concern for such a long period of time.
Love, THE ANNOYANCE AUTHORITY
*******************
Dear Vacuum Cleaner,
I wish you were a person so I could tell you how much I hate you.
Hatefully, Shannon
*******************
Dear Roller Skates,
I know Lauren was getting too big for her britches, saying she had you figured out, but was that really necessary? To twist her ankle in a manner that makes the Joe Thiesman/Lawrence Taylor leg break look like a mere stumble over a bump in the sidewalk?
You are very lucky that she is made of rubber - Shannon
*******************
Dear Fly in the Kitchen,
How exactly has evolution allowed you to live, when instead of resting on a half eaten cookie, you insist upon resting on my head? That sort of behavior can only bring about a rampage that will be visited on your head (actually your whole self) and all of your ancestors/descendants.
When you least expect it, expect it - Shannon
PS. Whoever named you a “fly” was obviously a linguistic genius.
*******************
Dear Carroll,
Why do you hate me? Don’t sit there and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. What possible other explanation could there be for leaving this open and running on the toyroom computer? That’s not what sisters do. I have a problem and you’re the one who gave me the crack.
My children are dirty and unfed, and it’s your fault - Shannon
*******************
Dear Spider Solitaire,
How can you consider yourself a game when there is no guarantee that you have a solution? How am I supposed to know if it is your fault or my fault when I can’t complete you? Why can’t you be more like your cousin Freecell?
Go away! – Shannon
*******************
Dear Hair,
What happened to you? My entire life is based on the fact that I can usually get you in order, even if everything else is a mess. Suddenly you have become some sort of humidity junkie and insist upon sticking out and being frizzy if there is a drop of water anywhere within a three mile radius. Can’t you read the descriptions on the product bottles? I’ve got four things at work trying to keep you down, and still you’re out there nipping at the humidity.
Cut it out… or I’ll cut you - Shannon
*******************
Dear Miles O'Brien,
I saw your staged dog rescue after Hurricane Katrina. I can still see you standing there, having your makeup retouched, waiting to go live while that poor dog was trapped. Do you think Walter Cronkite would have put on such a performance? Anyway, once you said: “What’s that? I hear something! I think a dog may be trapped in this debris pile!! Come here! Let’s check! There is a dog! Helloooo pupppeee!!! Good doggie!! Oooooo pupppeee, such a good boy!” etc, etc, you lost all credibility with me (granted, I had never seen you before, so I don’t know if you would have ever had any credibility with me). You are a twit.
The only reason I stopped on your newscast this morning is that I saw you were interviewing the HP’s boss from Afghanistan. First you quote an editorial saying that we do not have enough resources in Afghanistan. Then you asked the general how the poppy crop could have increased this year (in a manner, I might add, that seems to indicate that you think the American troops may have planted the additional poppy crops). Then when the general was attempting to explain the situation to you, you interrupted him to reask the question because you remembered you wanted to say “How could this situation literally BLOOM under your noses?” Sooo clever! That’s not “asking the tough questions,” that’s “being a moronic ass.”
Get Over Yourself - Shannon
*******************
Dear Erin,
How does it feel to have your signature blogging format unapologetically stolen by your big sister? Hee hee hee hee!
Update your blog - Shannon
posted by Shannon at 9:03 PM
1 Comments:
Dear Shannon,
It. Is. ON.
(Insert clever closing line here),
e
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