Dear Porcelain Face on Thompson Street,
Just because you carry a Vogue under your arm, doesn’t mean you are Vogue. So please pull that oak tree out of your ass and attempt to smile. There’s no need strike a pose every other minute, no one is taking a picture.
Sincerely,
The girl sitting in the coffee shop next to the window with her view being obstructed.
______________________
Dear Davenport,
I didn’t know there were black people in Iowa.
Thanks for setting me straight.
White girl from Midwest suburbia
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MY PERSONAL FAVORITE:
Dear Overly Righteous Sierra Club Credit Card Holder,
The next time to you come into my restaurant if you could refrain from the following things I’d really appreciate it.
- Letting your children run around the restaurant barefoot. I have swinging hips and on more then one occasion have knocked a six year old to the ground with them.
- Acting like syliac disease is going to kill you. You making me paranoid and non-trusting of the gluten-free menu that was created especially for your kind.
- Feeling entitled (PERIOD)
- Signing credit card slips with crayons – those are for you kids…OH WAIT – your kids aren’t using them because they’re peeing on chairs on the other side of the restaurant
- After your asshole of a child pees, don’t say you spilled something Dad because Mom just told my piss-soaked busser that it’s urine dripping from her towel, not apple juice.
Lastly, if you could just accomplish the difficult task of ordering correctly that would be great. I know it’s hard, but waiting until you get the bill to recognize that what is in your stomach is not what you wanted, rather it’s what you said you wanted is rude. So yes, we’d be happy to take that off the bill for you.
That’s all. Thanks for having a party larger than six so I could add in gratuity
Your Waitress
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