Dear Book Fair,
Why must you sell crap? Your name is not the Crap Fair. It is the book fair. Why must you sell long, pink, twisty erasers that I'm only going to end up confiscating? And the posters. Aaaw how cute, but really? How 'bout you just stick to books, k?
Love and kisses,
Miss O
Dear Music Teacher,
Passive agressive doesn't fly with me, or my fourth graders. You don't know how much it doesn't fly with me. Intentional or not, you were rude today, and embarassed me and my little ones. And that will come back to you. I don't have much power in the universe, but what power I do have, I don't always use for good. Like next week, when I fully plan to give my little ones a bag of skittles and a mountain dew roughly twenty minutes before I send my kids off to music. Yeah, that'll learn you.
Love and kisses,
Miss O
Now, like every Thursday night, I'm exhausted. I've cooked dinner, had a glass of wine, done some miscellaneous internet tasks, taken the dog out roughly seventy-four hundred million times, and am about to curl up on the couch with the red blanket and Jim and Pam and Mike and Dwight. Sweet bubbly Thursday.
Hee.hee. Why I love Pushing Daisies: "I'm Father Dowling. This is Father Mulkahey and Sister Christian."
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