November 15
Today I have some grievances and some apologies to make. I have changed their names to protect their privacy, but if you are reading this and the message applies to you, you know who you are:
“Shmlake Shmivley” — How can you be dating Ryan Reynolds already? You’re supposed to be having your rebound date with me. That’s what this banana peel from your trash assured me. See how the coffee grounds cling to it? That’s practically a legal contract. I’m calling my lawyer.
“Shmelmo” — I hate it when you leave the shower curtain open. It doesn’t air out, and it gets moldy. I know this is anal, but it makes me crazy on the inside. So crazy, I find myself dreaming up ways to kill you when I see the shower curtain open. Don’t worry, I’m not really going to kill you. And really, I do know it’s anal of me. And crazy. Yet, when I see that shower curtain open, getting all moldy and stinky and gross, kill is what I want to do.
“Shmoptimus Shrime” — I stole 75 cents from your change jar one time. I was hungry and I really wanted Pop Tarts. I love Pop Tarts. They drive me to passionate, crazed acts, such as stealing 75 cents from your change jar. Sorry.
“Shmiger Shmoods” — I think that I may have stopped rubbing my lucky Buddha for a minute while you were golfing tandem with Steve Stricker. I’m pretty sure that’s the reason why you didn’t win a hole and didn’t make a birdie in tying the Presidents Cup record for the worst loss ever and Adam Scott rolled in a 25-foot birdie putt on the 11th. I had been eating my kabillionth manwich at that point and I lost my focus. I am so, so sorry.