To whom it may concern:

I’m stealing again, but who cares? It’s funny!

Dear Extra Queso Girl at Moe’s: Whatever you do, always get them to schedule you to work at Moe’s when I’m going to be there! (Generally Sundays after church and sometimes Friday nights!) You make my weekend when you make my Billy Barou nachos by pouring on all that scrumptious queso. I don’t even mind that I have to use a fork to eat my nachos.

Keep the queso coming, your biggest fan

——————————– Dear Fellowship Committee at work, I know that it’s for a good cause. I understand that we are raising money and toys for kids who won’t have much this Christmas. But holding a competition and calling it Turkey of the Year? And nominating me as a candidate? Gee, thanks. I can’t wait to see my face pasted onto a turkey body! I might reconsider my depression at this announcement if, by chance, a tiara was involved. And it can’t be shaped like any sort of fowl or made from aluminum foil. We’re talking sparkly rhinestones and BIG!

Turkey of the year candidate

—————————— Dear Baja Burrito, I love you with every ounce of my being. You are my favorite burrito joint in town. I’m especially in love with your tomatillo salsa. I’d take a bath in it if you would give me enough. But, please, PLEASE, stop staring at me and giving me the special smile when I order. I know that I’m probably “Cesar’s girl” in all your minds, and I appreciate the friendliness, large burritos, and occasional free food, but I also feel really self-conscious when you all look at me like that. I get all twitchy, embarrassed, and unable to think straight, and then Cesar talks to me and I can’t even process what he’s saying. And I end up saying that I’ll call him and have no idea how that happened.

Not feeling all that beautiful in Tennessee

——————————- New Neighbor John, Please, for the sake of my sanity, tell me what in the world your profession is. Your insane hours and weird comings and goings have me all creeped out and my imagination working overtime. I’m not trying to be nosy here, but what in the world do you do?

The girl that peers at you through the blinds, Mandy

____________________________________ Dear people I don’t know all that well, I am touchy about my personal space. I have my dance space; you have yours. Try your best to stay in it unless I invite you over to mine. Do not upon first meeting me decide to hug me or feel up my arm. If you’re my boss, don’t rub me on the back. It creeps me out. You’ll know when I know you well enough to let you in my personal space, but until then, HANDS OFF!

I’m not anti-social, I promise! Mandy

____________________________________ Dear Neil Patrick Harris, I’m am so upset that you decided to announce that you are, in fact, gay. I loved Doogie Howser, MD growing up. I’ve even watched Lifetime and Hallmark movies simply because you were in them. I’ve seen a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother and you were hilarious! But your announcement is disturbing to me. I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same again.

Mandy

_____________________________________ Dear Muffin, Do not, under any circumstances, try to bite the blinds at the bay window. I will beat you senseless if you do. Also, when you’re eating a treat or chewing on your feet (two of your favorite pastimes), please do so on the blanket I have placed on the new couch. Please! I’m trying to keep the furniture looking great for as long as possible and I need your cooperation in this matter.

P.S. Also, at night. . . if you could maybe sleep on your pillow instead of the middle of my bed and possibly move a little further away from me so that I don’t bump into you and make you mad in the middle of the night, that would be great. Also, drink more of your water that I’ve treated with that stuff for your breath. Please!

Your owner and person, Mandy