Dear Adorable Little Baby Squirrel,

What up?  Not you, that’s for sure.  You spend the majority of your time down on the ground eating the critter food I put out for you and your competition friends.  Yeah, the cardinals see you coming now… there’s no need to rush the whole group of them to get them to leave and make room for your fat ass.    Have you noticed it’s harder to get rid of the blue jays?  I know this is the biggest obstacle for you as far as your grub goes.  And I have also noticed how you have moved into our yard and not told any of your little squirrely friends.  It’s like all the sudden the food is free and easy to find and you stop socializing.   And get rather obese.  What I’m trying to say is these are signs of depression and you may want to see somebody about it.


Your Benefactor  (The weird little lady that watches you out the window and laughs when you have gotten so fat that you can’t hold on to the side of the tree without dislodging large chunks of bark.)

Dear Lovely Neighbors,

You people are wonderful in every way, truly the nicest neighbors in the world.  Really.  Loves you lots.  But can you say, “Overachiever”?  The lawn watering, shrubbery grooming, flower planting, weed pulling thoughtlessness of you narcissistic yard-of-the-monther’s is wearing thin.  Have you ever stopped and thought that you are making the slackers less exuberant landscaping homeowners feel even more apathetic shame and disgrace about their yard?

Well, I feel sure that now that I have pointed this out you will try to curtail the all that yard work.

Thanks heaps,

The Messicans on the Block

Dear Ding-a-Ling Daughter (the Junior),

I told you so!  Yes, I will say it again, I told you so!  Complaining for ages that your back hurts and then, telling me that you don’t want to go to the chiropractor because you don’t like wearing paper gowns, is not the brightest idea you’ve ever had.  And see the gowns weren’t paper, they were cotton!  In this family we like to show a little class when we flash our ass out of the back of our clothing!

SEE!  The doctor was very nice and she didn’t torture you at all.  And don’t get all pissy with me about the electric stimulus thingy.  If I had told you she was going to hook you up to electrodes and shock you, would you have gone?  YES, you would have, but it would have been more of a, “Because I said so!” type of thing and less… self propelled.  Bottom line is, does your screwed up little back feel better now or not?  Well, it will after you go back on Monday.


Your ever-loving Mother

Dear Henrietta,

Last night was a bit trying, I know.  And indeed it was my fault that I let you run out of the Ativan.  You see the bottle said there were two refills left and I didn’t pay attention to the fact that the date had expired.

You know those little pills only last for four (4) hours?  Yep, it’s true.  I am betting your inability to sleep for the entire night could be directly contributed to the fact that we didn’t have a handy-dandy placebo.  If we had, you would have done fine.  Shedding all those crocodile tears this morning because you were, “tired” couldn’t have helped any.  And the “diarrhea” you are convinced you had?  Due entirely to your nerves…or maybe that you are on my last one.  Huh?  Wonder if it could work that way?

Where was I?  OH, YES.  Your grand-daughter, Ding-a-Ling (the Senior), is going to bring home your precious little white pills with her when she gets off work.  If you’re good, I will give you one. (Read: I would rather die than have you go without that damn pill for another horrible, sleepless night.)


The Bitch That Has Complete Control of the Dispensing of Pills in This House