Dear Myla Goldberg,
If I were the Decemberist's, I too would write a song about you. I think if I saw you on the street I would get butterflies in my stomach.

Dear Hot Man On The Subway,
I totally thought you were hot, and then went and ruined it for yourself. You are tall and solid, and you have your 50's screen hero good looks. The rain had made your hair wet most of it was slicked back, but a few strands fell rakishly into your eyes. Your t-shirt clung to your body. The white t-shirt and blue jeans were a nice touch to the bygone era hero thing. Then I saw your flip-flops, I thought I would give you another chance, but you kept sucking on your finger (seriously, what was that all about, were you eating crackers and they were stuck between your back teeth and gums?) and it was over. We could have had beautiful babies.

Dear Lady On The TV,
I can't stand to look at you, this sewing show is really interesting, and I am sure you have a lot you could teach me. I am sorry you can only talk out of the left side of your mouth. Is it because of a stroke?
Posted 11:16 AM by J.Ro