James Cameron

Dear James Cameron,

Fuck. Yes.

Love,
Kate

Dear Management

Dear Management,

Thanks for the festive $5 Starbucks gift card. Given that I have worked something like 80 to 100 hours of overtime in the last four weeks, that means you value my time at approximately 5¢ per hour. Except that I'm pretty sure the people who can't do a damn thing right and leave the office at 3pm got the same thing. So I guess that pretty much reduces your perceived value of my time to 0.

Good to know.

Regards,
Kate

Dear Jay Cutler

Dear Jay Cutler,

I think maybe you could get your depth perception checked. How is it that even when you have enough of a pocket to get off a decent pass (which I'll grant you isn't all that often), you still overthrow your receiver by, like, five feet? Also, maybe you could look at Olsen a little more in the next six minutes? Like maybe a nice game-winning TD pass? Just an idea.

Love,
Kate

Dear Chasing Amy

Dear Chasing Amy,

Thank you for the exteriors of Prown's and Jack's. They provided a welcome respite from the rest. The rest? Stilted dialogue that just sounds *written*; crass scenes that don't advance the story, but are just crass for the sake of crassness; and yes I'll say it, a star who should have sucked down one fewer helium balloon before delivering her lines. I'm finishing watching you because (a) I made a deal, and (b) my beloved husband thinks you're awesome, but oy vey.

Love,
Kate

Sated

You know how, when you eat too much, your stomach hurts because it is so full? Well, if you will indulge me for a moment on this overly sappy and wildly cliché observation from tonight....

I got home from work after the kids were in bed tonight. They were still awake, though, so I went in to say good night to each of them, and when Elder Child said he loved me and missed me, and Younger Child asked me to sit with him for a few minutes, my heart was so full that it hurt.

Yeah, yeah, I know--far from the most original thought on earth, but I just wanted to capture the feeling for posterity. So there you have it. Being a mom is like having indigestion.

Performance Evaluation

Dear Performance Evaluation,

I hate you. Your only purpose in life is to give management an "official" reason for divvying up the raises however they have already decided to divvy them. I know how I'm doing, my boss knows how I'm doing, and I know what she thinks of how I'm doing. If any of that weren't the case, there would be a much bigger issue than could be solved by my rating myself from 1 to 5 on a bunch of random qualities. I know you are here to stay, but that doesn't mean I have to like you, especially when I have to stay two hours late to finish you.

Bitterly yours,
Kate

Dear Blog Readers

Dear Blog Readers (if there are any of you out there),

I am going to make an attempt to revive my blog in the format of the "Dear So-and-So" letters that have dominated my Facebook statuses for the last few weeks. We'll see how long this lasts.

Love,
Kate