Open Letter - Now With A Fist Full of Footnotes (And Alliteration!)
Dear Guy Who Is Clearly Losing the War With Male Pattern Baldness That Was Walking Down Main Street Today In A Sweatshirt That Featured a Smiling Hokie Bird Holding Up A Foam Finger:
Let me start by apologizing for my dog. She's a dog. She's a big dog. She's a big dog that stands at approximately crotch height. When you came up to pet her today, I apologize that my crotch-heighted* dog leaned her body against your legs and may have zealously sniffed what my best friend in the seventh grade once referred to as "Man Land," capital M, capital L** Unfortunately we have a very liberal crotch-sniffing policy in my house and the poor thing simply didn't know any better. I personally blame the school system and violence in the media.
What I did think was a little unnecessary, Mr. Number One Hokie Fan, was when you gave me an unshakably icy stare and said, even after I apologized profusely, "Maybe you should watch where you walk your dog." When it was clear that no amount of apologizing would make things comfortable again, three fairly nasty phrases came to my head too fast for me to sort through which one would have been the most scathing:
"Maybe you should lay off the steak-scented Summer's Eve."
"Maybe you should fear my ninja moves bitch."
"Maybe you should watch where you walk your balls."
In retrospect, this last one is my favorite because it really makes absolutely no sense and when paired with a completely deadpan expression and the people's eyebrow, I think it could really say Just try and argue with THAT logic. I majored in philosophy suckah. Unfortunately, I didn't say any of those things. I just looked directly into your eyes and started laughing, not at you, but at the idea of steak-scented Summer's Eve...because that's utterly ridiculous. When I walked away giggling and you walked away in a huff, it seemed that we both got what we deserved.
See you around,
* Oh that is so not a real word
** I also have several notes from that era of my life in which he refers to that area as "the bone yard," "Penistown: Population 1," and "the meat packing district." All of those phrases look hilarious when scrawled in pink pen on pre-algebra worksheets.
Labels: Open Letter