Intentional Lack of Picture
Dear John Wayne Gacy,
Thanks for ruining clowns for me.
No, seriously, I would normally write more than this, but I’m just thinking about the whole murderous clown thing and ya know what? It’s not goin’ great.
So thanks for making children’s parties a particular sore spot for me, even in my mid-20s.
Dear Creepy Old Dude in Caribou Who Keeps Staring At My Legs,
Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered.
It’s nice to know that people still think of me that way, but… well, I’ve never been one of those people who subscribed to “types”, but for lack of a better term, you’re not my type.
People who can enjoy solid foods.
People who didn’t serve in the great war with my grandfather.
Even people who weren’t around when I Love Lucy ran on anything other than Nick at Nite.
Those are my types.
Instead, you’re just making me kinda sad… and a little uncomfortable.
Okay, I might wanna switch that order. I’m mainly uncomfortable.
Still, thank you for the attention, but please return your gaze to your bran muffin.
Flattered But Not Interested