must. control. rage.

Dear State Department of Labor Auditor:

You're mean.

Still reeling from your audit,

Lex


Dear Angel (physical therapist Angel, not broody undead Angel):

I would feel a lot better about the whole you wrangling my arm into unnatural and uncomfortable positions thing if you didn't snicker the whole time you did it.

I'm just sayin'.

Love,

Lex (red-faced fat girl with shoulder pain)


Dear Co-Worker:

Lack of preparation on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine.

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,

Lex


Dear Mother Nature:

A cold front would be nice right about now.

Sweatily yours,

Lex


Dear Consultant:

Let's get this straight, shall we? I pay you to tell me ways to better do what I want to do. I don't need to deal with your shit. I can be annoyed by other, lesser priced consultants.

Fuck you and your retainer (and the horse it rode in on),

Lex