Dear Entertainment Weekly,
You are my nerdy boyfriend.
You slay me with all things TV, movies, books, and music.
After years of mooching my Aunt's copy,
I've finally committed to you.
Knowing that you will be in my mail box every
week makes my heart sing.
Dear Big Bang Theory,
I love you.
That is all.
Will you let me into your club of Room Motherhood?
|Similar tutorial here|
I am totally and shamelessly addicted to you.
You make me want a better home, a better wardrobe, a better life.
However you keep me from a shame spiral by providing tidbits like this.
How do I adore thee?
Let me count the ways.
Ribbon, and felt, and glitter?
You are doing nothing for my Pinterest addiction.
Dare I say you are my dealer?
I've turned into an arts and crafts supplies hoarder.
PS: could you please hurry and stock some
burlap Christmas stockings?
Dear Pumpkin Spice Lattes,
I hear you are amazing.
I hear you are to die for.
I hear that you are the greatest thing since the "red cup".
Unfortunately, we shall never meet.
You are not on my diet of clean and allergen free eating.
So to make it seem like I'm enjoying you,
I made this.
In your honor.
And left without the printer ink.
It was worth it.
PS: Just a thought, could you please sell cookies at your food hut?
It would make bribing my kids out of all your Christmas stuff a lot easier.
I'm sure you'd have no problem selling them for a dollar each.
Heck, a desperate mom like me would buy them for five dollars a piece.
Dear Running Shoes,
We did it.
Who would have thought.
The whole monkey on my back is super cool.
Especially when I'm trying to blog.
Or do something productive.
This is your favorite place as of late.
Please for the love of all things holy,
don't get big.
Again, words allude me.
Just when I think I know you,
just when I think I have it down...
You throw me a curve.
I plan on hitting it out of the park.