Dear Moronica,
What the hell?
Seriously. What the hell, my dear little shithook, Moronica? It’s gotten to the point that, when I walk through the door, I’m already wondering if I’m gonna be stuck - in the end - with you.
Sometimes, after a long trip wrangling my cart up and down the narrow-assed aisles, by the time I get to checkout I’m too pooped to ponder which line you’ll be mishandling. I just line up behind some other sore sod, reading the dumbass magazine headlines lined up all around me
Published on March 29, 2009 07:22