tuesday letters.

dear skin color, do you see this picture?  do you see how no one can tell the difference between your shoes and your legs?  please do something about that even if it requires that you sit outside for 61 hours a day.  yes, I just said 61 hours a day. not a joke.

dear self, you sure know how to pick the wrong seats in the library.  In the past two days, you sat next to mr. clear-my-throat-every-five-seconds, mr. sniffles, mrs. the-library-is-the-perfect-place-to-take-a-phone-call-every-three-minutes, mr. and mrs. madly-in-love-so-obviously-we-only-need-one-chair-as-we-look-lovingly-into-each-other's-eyes, and my personal favorite, mrs. play-video-games-that-require-you-to-click-a-mouse-continuously-for-over-an-hour. keep up the good work.

dear slang, congratulations to the words perf, supes, totes, litz, def, and prolls (and more) for become a part of my everyday language.  uncongratulations for being used when talking to professors.

dear next tuesday, you mark the day in which I will have successfully completed my first senior year of college.  too bad I have another one.  actually, I'm totes okay with it.

dear dad man, thanks for doing my taxes (maybe you got tired of me struggling and asking you questions on every step?). I'm excited to go buy a lifetime supply of bubblegum with the money I get--that's a reasonable way to spend it, right?

dear red sox, thank you for finally! winning a game yesterday.  i was starting to get pretty stressed out.

dear self, good day.