Some thoughts not quite long enough to merit their own post.
Dear Electric Toothbrush:
Thank you. No – seriously: thank you. If not for you, I’m pretty positive that the dentist would have found about 398 cavities in my mouth last week. The hygienist even commented on my good “home care,” but I can’t take all the credit. You do all the heavy lifting while I just eat candy corn all day long. Basically, you are probably magical.
P.S. Also thanks to: Floss.
Dear Jessica – I think your name is Jessica – is it Jessica?
Remember me? You cut off all my hair a few weeks ago. You were really excited. You told everyone else in the Custom Cuts that you were cutting all my hair off. I had brought in pictures of Emma Watson and Alyssa Milano to show you, expecting you to laugh and say “Hahahahahahahahaha. I’m a hairstylist, not a magician!” But you did not laugh. Actually, I did not have to even show you the pictures. You just went to town. You said you were having fun. You did not even charge me for the “style” part of the “cut and style” because you were back behind my head, making merry with the pomade. A few years ago I got a decidedly heinous short haircut, and regretted it for months afterwards. This one is different. I don’t know what you did, but you went through three razors doing it and it’s fucking magical. Thank you, Jessica, if that’s your name.
I love you and you are awesome, but I’m not sure how to tell you this. You got me a gift card for Christmas, remember? And I opened it and you almost squealed, saying “I know how much you love that store!” You were pretty pleased with yourself, and I didn’t have it in my heart to explain your mistake. I mean, this is funny more than anything else, I’m not mad. Just amused. But not amused enough to correct you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to buy myself some stemware. Love, your only daughter