Dear Pathetic Abandoned Cat-
I feel pity for you. I do. With your greasy matted fur, your skittishness that makes you unlovable, and your small, plaintive wail, you are a pathetic sight. I'm sorry your previous owner (we'll call her Little Heckasac) abandoned you and that other pushy, obese cat. I'm sorry she painted my room pink, too, but you don't hear me crying about it all day long. In fact, I have grown to like it and am trying to flow with the pink vibe. I may even buy a Hockney print to go with my tropical plant and try to have the ultimate California room. You should take a cue from my flexibility and try to build a new cat life, where you make new cat friends and, hopefully, find a new owner, one who will pet you and won't leave you behind when they move. That said, if you knock over another one of my plants I will fucking kill you. You're lucky I didn't kill you when you broke my three-piece ceramic weiner dog planter. At least the planter wasn't alive, though. When you kill one of my plants by breaking it or pushing it off the porch, I feel real sadness. More sadness than I feel for your misfortune. Sorry, that's just the way it is.
Dear Cafe Bernardo-
I noticed you have raised your prices. Again. Congratulations. You are now a total fucking rip-off. Why should I pay as much for an entree in your cafe as I would if I simply crossed the street to Biba? You have to admit that's ridiculous. And now that you've eliminated your spinach salad, there's no reason to go to you anyway. Why do you always get rid of your best menu items? Then you force me to be that asshole standing in front of the menu board who says to the counter girl, "oh, your spinach salad is gone" and she is forced to pretend that she cares. I probably won't be seeing you for awhile. Let me know if you bring that spinach salad back.