Dear fellow users of my toilet,

I understand that smells exist, even though I can't experience them, but surely they can't be worse than doing your business in sub-zero temperatures, which is what it feels like I'm doing when you've left the window in the toilet opened. Brrrr.

Regards, Sara.


*there is no * above, but I wish I could put one below where it says random shit, so I could then put a star that said literally.

Dear a certain facebook (soon to be ex) friend,

No, I will not like your photo for you on facebook. What you're encouraging is not a photography competition, it's a popularity contest. Stop filling my news feed and my inbox with crap.

Regards, Sara

Dear HP,

Please do not send me an email asking me if I would like to upgrade my laptop to a newer model, include in the info the words "Latest Touchsmart" and then not have anywhere at all on your actual website a new, or even for that matter, old, touchsmart for me to looks at. I do not want a pavilion, or even a mini, unless it has a touchscreen. Get one, email me back, we'll see how I'm feeling.

Regards, Sara.

Dear Blogger (It's me again),

You said you were gunna post that post I wrote last night. There I was thinking noone had commented cause I was being a grumpy bum and whinging about the medicines that make me breathe, and it turns out you never even posted it.

Next time, when you randomly schedule a post to post in 5 minutes time, I will check that it has actually posted.

The trust is gone.

I'm sorry it has to be this way.
Sara.

Dear Bigpond,

Why are you sucking so much arse tonight? I just want to check my usage so I can talk about it in my other blog, but instead, you're refusing to load so I'm having to post here instead.

Thanks for nothing, (Except all the mythbusters and the dozen or so movies I got last night)

Sara.