Dear Butt Bones,

Girrrrrrls, we need to work this thing out. Every day when I button up my my work shirt, roll up my pants leg, don my generic BMX helmet and bust a move to work, I can't be afraid to sit on my bike seat. It is not the seat of doom, it's just a piece of metal covered in foam. Is the fancy gel seat covering not enough for you guys? What about the awesome cushion of the my big, round butt? Jeez!






















I'm gonna need you to toughen up, ladies, or I'm gonna have to stuff my pants with ice packs when I get to work. And I really don't want to have my lumpy, icy butt detract from my super-radical bike ridin' legs.



Just sayin'.

Love,
Lauren
PS- no more commute posts, I swear!!

Dear Drivers,

When you slow to 3 miles an hour to make right turns when I am late to work, you make me want to eat my steering wheel.

Oh, and just a little PSA, the speed limit on the street my work is on is 40 miles per hour. Not 30, not 25, but 40. Only one of the days I drive to work is Sunday, so I can't really understand why you seem to think it's acceptable to drive 25 miles an hour in little packs on a main thoroughfare through town.

I hate to break up your little Audi teaparties, but my beat up old minivan has places to go!

Trying to get through the daily grind without losing my mind,
Lauren

Dear Billie Joe,

I understand you may be going through an identity crisis. It happens to all of us. You're getting older-- I get it. You have to appeal to a young, hip audience to maintain your relevance in the mainstream. Of course we can all understand that. But christ on a cracker, what in the name of electroschock therapy are you doing with your hair?

You're a grown man now, with a family, not a 13 year old emo kid.

You are not Dr. Frankfurter, and no, his look cannot be updated for the new millenium.

You are not in The Cure. You're in a band that used to play pretty good pop-rock music, remember?

Combining Sid Vicious' hair with the wardrobe of a 40 year old who scams on 21 year old girls at night clubs does not give you a slightly updated retro-punk look.

Now, I realize this was all because you were just trying to cover up this terrible hair don't, but uh, two wrongs don't make a right, buddy.

I know you want to rectify this whole hair business as soon as possible to limit the number of photos of yourself that you will be cringing at in a matter of months, so I wanted to give an image to meditate on:

Can we please bring it back to the old school, at least a little? I'm not asking you to give up your acoustic guitar or radio friendly, I-make-deep-and-serious-grown-up-music-now-give-me-a-Grammy songs. I'm just asking that you not embarass yourself on the red carpet at those Grammys.

And hey, lose the tie. I mean really. Borrowing Avril Lavigne's circa 2004 style? You're killin' me.

Your hometown girl who's hoping you google yourself,
Lauren

Dear People Blogging About My Kid's School,

Do you really think you're helping anyone? "Oh hey Internets! My kid gots a letter says they gotta go to a school fulla poor black kids near the projects and I'm too good for that school! You hear me internet!? My kid is too good for that school! You better make that school have more white kids and shiny new stuff or I'm gonna send the district a manifesto! That's right, Internets. A manifesto! That'll teach everybody to have a school near my house my kid's too good for!"

Please.

Not impressed,

A person who actually works to make stuff better at that school.