Dear in-laws: Thanks for giving me this adorable framed picture of baby Grahm. Holy cute factor. Grahm kinda hates it, but I love having it around the apartment (for obvious reasons). It also makes me want to go to Burger King.
Dear random author: When I first saw this book in the writing/grammar section of Barnes and Noble, I thought it was just a clever title. Maybe the F word it spoke of was fiction? But no. You wrote an entire book on the etymology of the actual F word. Really? What kind of research does that involve? And do you really think the world needs to know this?
Dear Scale: Why can't we be friends? Seriously, my crotch biscuits are getting out of control. I know I step on you a lot, but can't we learn to just get along?
Dear Bandeaus: You are a whole new kind of freedom. I'm a little obsessed. Your "one size fits all" label gives me hope. As President of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I'm grateful that big Betty down the street and I can finally wear the same size undergarments. That's one small step for women, one giant leap for Jena.
Dear Grahm: You left me today. At 5:15 this morning. Listening to your alarm go off six different times wasn't exactly the ideal wakeup call, but I still love you. You're headed back to Nevada for eight days. My pity party has already commenced. It was, however, hilarious to watch you pack last night. Apparently the best system for filling a suitcase, according to you, is throwing everything you own on the floor for easy access. Hrmph. Guess I should go clean that up now...