Dear American Idol:
You have a freak show going on there, and I don’t mean the contestants.
Six months, Pumpkin.
Dear Logan’s Server:
You are barely 20…one day you will be 45, and you’re going to have a hole in your ear lobe through which you will easily be able to fit a roll of quarters. Does this worry you? Perhaps it should.
Dear Logan’s Peanut Roaster:
Your over-roasted peanuts taste like bad coffee. ::::shudder:::: I hate coffee…it’s all bad.
Dear Elijah Abbott, Marc and Rachel Motes, Rusty Foshee, Joe-Jack Ricks, “Ur boy” Joe Hardy, and Yackie aka Jackie Davison:
Your names get added to THIS LIST. You should be pretty ashamed.
Dear McDonald’s, North Florence:
Why was it that after you made me repeat my two-item order 3 times, you still got it wrong? Let me guess…you’re trying to remind me that I need to stay away from fast food, yes? Thank you.
Could it be that the reason you don’t have time to do your job in the afternoon is because you were shopping all morning?
That Dog-Human Hybrid image is very disturbing; very disturbing, indeed.
Dear Natchez Trace Parkway…
I rode many miles on you yesterday…there was NO COLOR! Flowers, please!!
It may seem like we have gone about our regular business and forgotten you, with our March Madness and our shopping, our overcrowded restaurants and our daily lives. Please know that many, many of us are praying for you…for your peace, for the easing of pain, for broken hearts to mend, for recovery. Soon, we will be donating to help send aid to you. We have not forgotten!