Thank you notes

I've been threatening to start this blog for some time now, but until tonight all it has been is a threat. No more. Its time to rant and rave.

Dear landlord,
thanks so much for ghetto-rigging the back gate. I can't tell you how much it excites me to take out the trash and unlock the stick that holds everything so firmly in place. Perhaps it was due to the sporadic moisture this winter, but it seems the gate latch no longer wishes to open even after being "unlocked". This evening while taking out the trash this became a glaringly obvious problem. I tried my hardest to pry it open with my fingertips, but alas, I only made the problem greater when I managed to smash my middle finger between the metal latch and the wooden gate. It was such a tight fit that rather than just hurt like the dickens, It actually popped the tip of my finger open. I apologize for bleeding on the gate like that.

love,
your loyal tenant


Dear impatient coffeehouse customer,

You really made my day today. Not only was I busy trying to run the front of house and the drive-thru at the same time today, but I also had a machine go down at the most inopportune time. I was ecstatic when you responded with a gruff "Good." when I assured you I would be right with you. I was so happy when you glared down at me while I followed correct cash control procedures while making change for my till, so I could actually take your money. I was pleased as punch when you ordered 3 venti coffees when I knew my last customer had emptied out what I had brewed. But I've got to tell you ma'am, I laughed inside as I set the machine to brew more coffee and assured you it would only be 4 more minutes. I only wish I could have slipped you decaf. Next time try an espresso drink, delivering swift justice for your poor manners is easier for me that way. Have a great day!

Love,
your favorite barista


Dear "wildman",

that is what you originally told me your name was anyway. Thank you for coming in to my coffeehouse every day. Honestly, your smiling face brightens my day every time. Nevermind the fact that flirting shamelessly with you is a favorite pastime for me. Thanks for coming to my store instead of the one across town.

Sincerely,
your secret admirer


Dear Hollister,

I visited your store a few weeks ago and the residual effects still plague me. Thanks so much for ridding me of any good self esteem I may have built up lately. I entered your store in search of a cute green top to wear out for Saint Patricks Day, and left only green with envy over sickeningly skinny girls. I searched through piles of shirts for a medium (my typical size), only to discover that your medium could easily be equated to a womens x-small. Naturally, I began to search for a large, but that was mostly in vain. I managed to find 2 larges (still awfully tiny) in different styles, and headed for your dressing room. Here is where the story gets ugly (and fat). Your dressing room is amazingly dark, with the exception of the blaring spotlights positioned above each full-length mirror. Nothing highlights flabby sides and a pudgy stomach quite like a spotlight in a dark room. Even better, your shirts were so tight against my chest that I could hardly move, let alone breathe. Of course you don't make an XL, popular girls aren't fat. Apparently they don't have chests either. I can't thank you enough for doing what the mean girls in high school never could accomplish-- I actually considered throwing up my lunch that day and making it a habit. I've felt like a real cow ever since. I can't wait to be skin and bones and come back and spend hundreds of dollars in your store!

Sincerely,
your most satisfied customer, Ever!


Thats it for tonight, my busted finger is throbbing after typing...but I'm sure there'll be more to say soon!