Dear Parking Lot Snacker,

The bones left scattered all around my car in the parking lot today... they are chicken bones, right? (I'd like to make that assumption, but I watch WAY too much TV for that.)

Someone should really introduce you to a sandwich. Easy to eat with no leftover parts. It's the perfect meal for a snacker on-the-go! Another option you may consider is boneless chicken wings - a modern marvel.

I think the main thing to remember here is that whatever you eat, throw your trash around your own car, you littering #*%&#!!!!

Watching you,

Lesley

Dear Chick-fil-A eating co-worker,

*achem* Hello there. This is a little awkward...

I know we haven't met, but I noticed that when I passed you in the lobby today you were carrying a Chick-fil-A bag. And the thing is, I love Chick-fil-A! I've only been working here a month, but I haven't found one anywhere near the office. So I was wondering... if it's not too much trouble... where is it? :)

Seriously - where is it? I must know. You can't just waltz through here with your sweet tea and waffle fries and expect no one to notice! I NOTICED. The fact that I somehow managed to summon the inhibition to keep myself from tackling you over the receptionist's desk this time does not mean you'll be so lucky next time. So c'mon! Give it up! Share the love!!

Jonesin',

Lesley

Dear someone at the CIA,

I'm a big fan of spies - HUGE fan. I think you guys are way super cool. I'm not a spy or anything myself, but... I know stuff. I mean, I've seen every episode of Alias at least twice and that stuff is educational. Which is why I feel it is my duty to inform you that there may be an enemy amongst us. Let me explain:

Yesterday when I ordered lunch at the drive through window, I asked for a Coke to drink. My order was confirmed, "one coke". At the window, I was handed a cup and told that it was my "coke". All seemed well. Until... about a block down the road I finally took a drink... "ACK! I'VE BEEN POISONED!!!", I thought to myself. What was this wretched liquid now invading my body and eroding my taste buds?!? Diet. Coke.

It turned out OK. I stopped into the next location, poured it out and re-filled my cup with something a little less disgusting. But the whole thing got me thinking... why would a foreign country want me dead? Except... I've seen every episode of Alias at least twice and that stuff is educational!

Hope this helps. If you need any further details, please feel free to pick me up in a super secret spy plane and take me to Minsk for a super secret spy meeting with my hot CIA Handler, Vaughn.

Ready and Waiting,

Lesley

Dear "Steve" the manicurist,

Look, I'm gonna cut right to the chase because I'm just not in the mood:

First of all, who do you think you're fooling? Your name is not "Steve". I have nothing against immigrants (I'm one myself!), but I somehow doubt that "Steve" made it into the 1960's edition of Most Popular Vietnamese Baby Names. You feel me?

Secondly... that nail file you're holding? It's meant to be a gentle instrument used in the calm and relaxing ritual of the manicure... not a lethal weapon. Despite what I'm sure has been your experience, people don't usually cry and grimace during manicures. This should be a red flag for you!

Worst manicure experience ever. It literally hurt me to leave that $3 tip - and not just because my fingers were bleeding.

Goodbye forever,

Lesley

Dear Physician's Assistant,

You must be one busy lady! I've been trying to speak to you for two days with no luck. I'm sorry that my body decided to have an allergic reaction to a prescription outwith normal business hours - next time I break out in hives, suffer extreme exhaustion and have trouble breathing, I'll make sure it's between 8:30am and 4:30pm.

If you care to respond to any of the messages I've left you, here a few things to bear in mind:
1. If I don't answer, it's most likely because I'm dead.
2. If I'm whispering, it's most likely because I'm at work (it is between 8:30 and 4:30, after all) and don't want the entire office hearing about my hives.
3. If I am rude, it's most likely because you deserve it. (Or perhaps mood swings are another side effect of the drugs?)

Itchily awaiting your call,

Lesley

Dear new yellow sticky notes,

Is it just me, or are you even yellow-er than before? Honestly! I can't stop looking at you. And the contrast between your new sunny hue and the dark cherry grain of my desk is really quite something.

But it's not just your color... if I didn't know any better, I would swear that you are stickier too! (C'mon, you can tell me: are you stickier?) I stuck you on my monitor 3 days ago and you are still holding strong with nary a corner curl to be seen.

The bottom line is, I think I'm falling for you. I don't care that some thoughtless shipping company printed their [hideous] logo on all four of your sides and I don't even care about the mini shipping pallet you're sitting on... I still think I'm going to take you with me when I quit my job on Friday. It will be our little secret...

Love,

Lesley

Dear Aquafina drinker,

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably already noticed the bottle of Aquafina missing from the office fridge – and I can explain. You see, I drink Nestle Pure Life and also keep my bottles in that fridge… the two look very similar, what with the blue labels and all. And what are the chances that we’d both select the 16.9 ouncer?

The thing is, the lights were off and it was dark in there. I didn’t turn the lights off, Darlene did it! She’s always going on about not working for the electric company or some such nonsense. If we need someone to blame – why not blame her? Had the lights been on I’m sure I would never have mistaken your water for mine, taken it from the refrigerator, emptied it and then hid the bottle under the papers in my trash can.

I proffer to you as a peace offering a bottle of my own water, nicely chilled and enhanced with minerals for taste. It is yours for the taking. And if you’re still angry with me, then… well… I’m pretty sure I heard Darlene calling you fat earlier.

On your side,

Lesley