Letter to the Internet

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Dearest Internetz,

I’m not entirely comfortable with where this relationship is headed. As much as I enjoy our time together, I feel like you are a less-than-positive influence on me.

Or perhaps it’s the other way around.

Let’s cool things down a bit, shall we? Especially with the Jesus memes. Because Google Drive only comes with five free gigs.

Intimately yours,
Teleute

’Nother Letter to teh Internetz

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Dear Internet,

Did you develop a speech impediment while I was away, or could the fault possibly lie with my iotaPhone (aka iPhone SE) and lack of Wi-Fi connection?

I await your response as eagerly as I would the download of an MP3 via Napster. Back in the days of dial-up. With AOL as the service provider.

Your Friend,

Teleute

Open Letter to My 4 1/2-Year-Old

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Dear Son,

I am sorry that you are sick.  If I had the power to experience the ickiness and unpleasant feelings on your behalf, I would do so in a heartbeat, if only because I’m confident I’d remember and unquestioningly obey the age-old aphorism, “If you’re gonna spew, spew into this.”

Yes, I realize how difficult it can be to direct one’s vomit when our little tummies aren’t feeling very well, and not everyone can make it to the bathroom every single time.  But when I’m holding a fucking bucket in front of your face, wouldn’t it be so much easier to just go with it instead of turning away and yelling “NO!” ?

After being forced to throw away my mattress this holiday season because you peed in my bed one morning and didn’t say anything until after 10 pm that evening (when I’d finally noticed the smell), I would appreciate a little consideration.  Seeing that I have yet to purchase a replacement mattress and am thus forced to sleep on the floor, I’d have expected you to show a bit more discretion as to where you choose to unload the contents of your stomach.

And while I applaud your instinct to get up and run to the bathroom, the fact that you changed course to vomit in my bedroom doorway suggests you should further explore these instincts.  In the future, if you are standing in my doorway as you begin to barf, please do not continue on into my bedroom — at least not so long as I am sleeping on the floor.

At one point (shortly before dawn), you did manage to make it over to the toilet.  Perhaps it was simply a lapse in communication which caused to you to aim directly in front of the toilet, spraying undigested grains of Uncle Ben’s Spanish Rice all over the side and base of the bowl and soiling approximately forty percent of my bathroom floor.  If so, I apologize for the confusion and would like to clarify that the purpose of running to the commode when one has to puke is so we may puke into the toilet, not all over it it.

Bottom line: Throwing up on the floor?  Bad.  Throwing up all over Mommy’s blankets and pillows?  Worse.  Spewing into the potty, bucket, trash can, or bathtub?  YES!!!

Thank you for your cooperation,

Housekeeping