When I grow up, I want to be a TSA AGENT.
I believe that I would be an excellent TSA Agent. My searching abilities are top notch; I know the ins and outs of every one of my Mommy’s (the WORST!) teeth INCLUDING that secret retainer on her bottom teeth that she tries to hide. Sneaky Mommy, but she can’t fool me!
My interrogation techniques are also superb. No need to teach me hair pulling, bitch slapping, eye poking or scratching (TSA Agents use all of those, right?) I am a MASTER. I’m also a great good cop/bad cop (both.) I go in for a sweet kiss and - NOPE - biting. Those terrorists won’t see THAT coming.
I am also incapable of being reasoned with. Oh, you don’t have your baby’s birth certificate, but she’s clearly a newborn and therefore shouldn’t have to purchase her own seat? NOPE. Those are the rules. Oh, I haven’t napped all day and am clearly exhausted and will feel much better if I fall asleep? NOPE. Not sleepy and you can’t make me. See? Completely unreasonable.
In conclusion, I cannot wait to grow up and put my skills to use. TSA, look for my application in 17 years and 4 months. Until then, I will continue to hone them by abusing, I mean practicing on, my Mommy (the WORST.)
Today, my Mommy was not the WORST. Today, my whole family was safe, and that is something to never take for granted. Our hearts are sad and broken and with the families in Connecticut. From our family to yours, our deepest sympathies and sincerest wishes for peace, when peace is so hard to find.
This is me and I’m adorable.
Dear Syrian Rebels:
I am writing in hopes that you can help me. I see that you are currently in the midst of a revolution against your oppressive dictator. I am inspired as I too am oppressed … by my Mommy (the WORST!), and so far, I have not been able to escape her reign of terror. She foils me at every turn! I learn to stand and attempt to fling myself from my crib, she lowers it. I explain that I do NOT like pears, she mixes them with spinach and kale and tricks me into thinking they are delicious. I try to pull the bookshelf down on top of my head, she redirects me and suddenly I’m happily playing with my boring, safe toys … No matter what I do, she’s one step ahead of me!
So, tell me my friends, how did you do it? Oh how I long to be enjoying freedom - like you!
Uh oh. I have to run; my Mommy (the WORST!) is loading up the chemical weapons. LOL J/K - it’s just more pears.
Longing to be free,
I hope this letter finds you FABULOUS! I am writing in support of your cause because I too am denied love. Of course, when I grow up, I’ll most likely be able to marry whomever I want (see: my letter to Pakistan. I mean, seriously, do your research.) And yet … still, I understand.
You see, I am in love with my dog, and he is in love with me. All we want is to be together and French kiss. But, alas, as you know, my Mommy is the WORST! and will not allow it. She says he’s “trench mouth” and eats his own poo. I yell, “THE HEART WANTS WHAT IT WANTS!” But it falls on deaf ears. I am afraid I’m destined to live without French kissing my one true love.
Our causes are one and the same. So keep fighting, my fabulous friends!
Jesus said “love”, bitches,
Dear Persons with Disabilities:
Hello to your families! Please, do not return the sentiment. My family is the WORST. Sure, all of my limbs work, and even more importantly, so does my brain. I’m healthy; my doctor says I’m “perfect.” Ha. I don’t FEEL perfect. I FEEL bored. And I’m bored because my Mommy says that I need to nap or play in my Exersaucer or with my boring, safe toys for 15 whole minutes so she can work from home. She says that if she doesn’t get this work done, we’re going to end up homeless and hungry. I mean, how bad can homeless and hungry be, really? It can’t be worse than being bored.
Anyway, why am I even telling you? Unlike my Mommy, you know that the worst thing in the world is being bored! Am I right?
Warm and full and BORED,
I am writing this post in secret from my crib. I have been awake since 6 this morning and am perfectly happy about that. I strongly believe that I am not sleepy. I do not want to nap. And I have made this perfectly clear. Yet my Mommy (the WORST!) has locked me up in this baby cage, forcing this inhumane treatment upon me despite my pleas. I have fought. I have screamed. I have begged. Regrettably, I told state secrets. They say everyone talks; I hope this is true and I’m not that weak. I have resisted as long as I can. This is minute 4 of my imprisonment, and I’m just not sure I’m going to make it much longer. If I do not survive this ordeal, I wish you all the best. To my dog (whose ears I love to chew), I leave my most favorite possession with which I’m allowed to play - my blue ring. To my Mommy (the WORST!) I leave nothing.
Lost to this world,
Dear polar bears:
I’m sorry to hear that your homes are melting. I totally understand. I hate getting my diaper changed. Every time my Mommy (the WORST!) puts me on the changing table, I ALMOST die. Just like you! But I don’t. Good thing you love to swim!
Wet and happy about it (you should try to be too!),
I hope this letter finds you well. Things here are not ideal. Sure, I have enough food and clean water. When I get sick, I have access to some of the best medical care in the world. I am warm and dry.
But get this. My mommy won’t let me chew on this electrical cable! I mean, the injustice is overwhelming!
Anyway, good luck with the starving!
Dear Women in Pakistan:
How’s the weather? You will not believe what I have to endure here. Sure, when I grow up, I’ll be allowed to vote. My Mommy tells me I already have a college fund, and that I can be anything I want when I grow up. I’m going to get to choose the man - or maybe even woman! - that I get to marry, or I could choose to not marry at all.
But, get this, my Mommy won’t let me chew on the dog’s ears! All I want to do is chew on the dog’s ears, and maybe poke his eye out. Can you believe it?? It’s almost too much to bare.
Anyway .. wait. Can you even read? (LOL!)