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Tuesday, August 11, 2009


Dear Ladies Who Were Sitting Behind Me On The Bus,

Yes, the bus driver was kind of a doofus, but he was nice and he meant well. You needn't have carried on in such a mean way just out of his earshot about how he was the town idiot. He drives your asses back and forth to Alewife so that you can save your gas money to spend on all those boxes of shoes that you kept prattling on about - the ones you buy one of each color and then hide them under your bed from your husband so he doesn't know you bought them. (I wasn't eavesdropping, you were freaking loud.) The bus driver spends his whole day combatting Boston drivers and shuttling all personality types, not speed-dialing QVC. I think he gets a freebie if he has to pause the bus before leaving the station so he can go back inside for two seconds to get his sunglasses - assuring that he can drive into the evening sun safely while taking us all to our destinations.

You should be kicked in the shins with those stupid pointy Jimmy Choos you were so proud to brag about.

So there.

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