Dear Whomever,

I am so out of sorts this week, I don't know if I'm coming or going. In fact, up until yesterday, I had no idea what day it was. I'm a mess.

Anyway, I am in no condition to blog today, but I wanted to stop in and say hey, and link up with Ashley for some Friday's Letters!

Dear M, you're growing entirely too fast, please slow down just a bit and let Momma cherish this time. Dear Holly and KB, I cannot wait to see y'alls gorgeous faces, November can't get here quick enough! Dear Color Run, see you in November, bring your A game. Dear C25K, you're not that scary anymore. Dear Neglected Hair, I promise we'll make a trip to the salon soon, I'm just really busy. Dear Summer, I always get sad when you go away. Let's make these last few weeks count. Dear Fall, don't tell Summer, but I'm anxiously waiting for you. Dear Fall TV Schedule, I'm most excited to see you. Hurry back. Dear Readers, y'all rock my socks. Stay awesome!

OK, m'dears, I hope you all have fantastic weekends. I promise I'll show up on Monday with a smile on my face.

X's and O's

In the Words of The Fresh Prince, Mind Ya Business

First of all, please tell me I'm not the only one who remembers this:

He-larry-ous.

Anyvajazzle, on to what this post is really about.....

Friends, we have a spy among us. Someone is reading my blog and blabbing my business to other people. And by other people, I mean my family. Now, here's the thing, I'm not ashamed of my blog. My mom and the hubs both know about my little corner of the interwebz. But, I consider this to be my sanctuary. This is my safe haven, the place where I can escape my world, if only for a minute, to clear my head. And honestly, I don't care who sees this blog. But what bothers me is when someone uses something of mine against me. When someone twists something that I've said or done and distorts it to where it makes me look bad.

Anyone who reads my blog can read all about my night out on the town  last Saturday night. I have nothing to hide. I went out without the hubs because he was working. But he knew where I was going and who I was with. I talked to him quite a bit that night. My mom babysat Baby Butterbean for me, so she knows everything as well. Basically, some people have been led to believe that I was out whoring around. Or something of the sort.

Let it be known that at least a dozen people can vouch for my actions that night. 

Here's what I'm getting at. I don't like gossip. I don't like people gossiping about other people for their own personal wealth. But, if you're going to do it, talk about something worth talking about. Don't make up shit. And damn sure don't hide behind it. If you have something to say about someone, let it be known that you're saying it. 

I'm fairly certain that anyone who has any interest in my blog is a grown ass adult. So act like one. This is not high school, this is the real world. Have a little self respect and stop trying to make others look bad. It's really no one's business what I do except for myself and my husband. I live my own life, pay my own bills, and mind my own damned business. And everyone else should as well. Because before you go throwing stones, maybe you should look around at your glass house.

an open letter to my delivery person

dear asshat who's responsible of delivering my stuff,

WTF is the problem!? why do my packages keeping getting lost, or left at the post office, or delivered to my ghetto neighbors?? my house is not hard to find. i'm here all day long. i have my door and my blinds open. i order things practically weekly, which means i have packages delivered weekly as well. so why, oh why, oh why can i never get my stuff on time or delivered properly!?

i know you're not stupid. i mean, you have to be able to read a map or follow your gps in order to get to my little town, podunk, texas, so i know you have some sort of intelligence. so why, oh why, oh why can i never get my stuff on time or delivered properly!?

is it me?? did i do something wrong? i figured as bad as my online shopping addiction was, that i was probably a key factor in keeping you employed. i don't have any vicious dogs that keep you from coming up to my house. i don't have a locked gate with a call box or anything like that. my driveway is wide open (twss) and easy to turn around in. there's even a paved sidewalk going out to the carport!! so why, oh why, oh why can i never get my stuff on time or delivered properly!?

this cannot keep happening delivery person. i want us to have a good relationship. a loving and caring relationship. i used to love the feeling that i got when i saw you round the corner of my street. my ears would perk up like a poodle's when i heard the crunch of your tires in my driveway. my heart would race when you knocked on my door. my husband would joke that you knew me better than he did. but it's not like that any longer. now you break my heart on a weekly basis. i sign into one of my accounts to check the status of my order, and i get all stabby. it either says that it was delivered to my post office, which means i won't get it until the day after i was scheduled to receive it, or it says "delivered to your front porch." well, my friend, i don't know where this fictional front porch is, but packages must be piling up over there!

there were the few times when you delivered my stuff to my neighbors. that is extremely unacceptable. i would rather you just keep my friggin packages than leave them at the crackhead's house. i have a feeling that they sell my shit. or, if i do actually get my stuff from them, i'm really afraid the cops are going to think it's a big box of dope. and then cps is gonna be wondering if i've got a crack baby. see, now you've dragged baby butterbean into it. good job asshole. 

can we please, please, please, fix this?? i miss getting excited at the thought of seeing you. i *need* my stuff dude!! baby butterbean *needs* that cute little blue bikini and the white sunglasses that i ordered a week ago. she *needs* that little plaid skirt and the denim vest that i ordered two weeks ago. i *need* those really cute flip flops that i ordered yesterday. ok, now i know you don't have the flip flops yet, but i just want to make sure you're going to deliver them on time, to me, and not to my postal carrier or my neighbors.

we can make our relationship better. you just need to put forth more effort. i really don't want to have to file an official complaint. oh, who the hell am i kidding, i don't want to have to shank you. so if i were you, i'd straighten up. cause i'll flat out go gangsta on your ass. consider yourself warned.


UPDATE: this afternoon a mysterious package showed up between my inside door and my screen door on my back porch. it was the missing blue bikini and white sunglasses that were "delivered to my fictional front porch" yesterday. the only explanation that i can think of is that my delivery prick person found this letter and i scared him straight. hopefully he'll keep up the good work and i won't have to go all mike tyson on his ass.