Dear...

Dear Bob:

I understand that you are uncomfortable, and probably going through TPMS.

But please, please try to act a little more... manly... when dealing with food that you don't want to eat. Bitch-slapping the crickets does little. Except make your mommy laugh very hard. And I'm sure the crickets don't appriciate it, either.


Dear Timmy:

Fatass.


Dear Self:

Identifying different parts of LA by the graffiti is not a life skill.