Dear MacDonalds:
Seeing that my five year old is EXCEEDINGLY picky about his happy meal toys, and that he ONLY wants one of each type of toy but he wants EACH one of those individual toys, is there any POSSIBLE way I could just fork over a flat sum to you, grab a few sodas gratis, and just get the complete set? Or would that interfere with your evil plan to turn my crappy car into a dumping ground for french fries that can survive a nuclear holocaust?
Sincerely
Amy Lane
Dear Jared Padelecki and Jensen Ackles:
OKay–here’s the thing. You are just as cute (if not cuter) than you were five years ago, only now you have added muscle mass, age and experience. You’re interfering with my ability to function as a role model for young people–it’s hard when you’re having naughty fantasies and tracking drool. You may either A. cease and desist with the burning cuteness and sex appeal immediately, or, since I don’t see that happening, B. just kiss and get it over with, so my entire being can go out in one incandescent burst of spontaneous conflagration, and I can die happy.
Personally, I’m rooting for B. Please send me the youtube clip as soon as you possibly can.
All my best
Amy Lane
Dear Safeway Grocery Store:
Your butter cookies are making me fatter. Can you either A. stop putting them out when I’m in the store or B. put something nutritious in them like fiber or vitamins or something?
Wonderful of you–thanks so much!
Amy Lane
Dear germs:
I’m tired, my throat is sore, and I think I’m running a fever. Obviously your use of my body as an apartment complex is not working out. This serves as your eviction notice–please leave as I’m about to start eating vitamin C like there’s no tomorrow, and I understand that shit is lethal to you fuckers. Good. I’m looking forward to hearing your dying screams as I go to sleep.
Night night!
Amy Lane
Dear Ladybug:
Mama says go to sleep. It’s way past your bedtime and you’re driving her batshit. Batshit is bad–it leads to grumpy mama, or at least insane mama. Go to bed, sweets, before the screaming and spankings begin.
I mean it.
Mama Lane
