Yarr.

Sorry. Feeling Pirate-y.

So, in between resume bombs, beading, and cleaning I've been doing a bit of baking. And a bit of Daytime TV watching. (and a lot of fervent praying, and sacrifices to Elvis, but there is only so much that a peanut-butter and banana sandwich [fried in bacon fat] can do) So I present my random open letters du jour.

Dear AMC,

I believe it actually is a crime to show a movie like The Third Man with commercials in it. Yes, an actual crime, not one of those faux "crimes" that fancypants movie critics throw about when they want to sound all smart and stuff. If it's illegal for women in Minnesota to sleep in chemises without their husband's permission*, it's illegal to pan and scan, and interrupt one of the neatest Orson Welles performances ever. I believe it becomes a death-penalty case if one interrupts the subterranean chase scene for a Levitra ad, but I could be mistaken.

Sincerely,

Sauce

*Or not Minnesota. It's somewhere. I read it the other day, (and not on the internets, so it must be true).

Dear Duncan Hines,

Your carrot cake mix sucks. I've eaten more substantive (and tasty) cotton balls from the tops of aspirin bottles. The cupcakes I made by following your directions were a confounding combination of o-cell-o sponge, and Grandma. Please do not allow me to start on about your "cake decorating gels". I was able to pipe tiny carrots onto 18 of my cupcakes, before the tube expired. Certainly no-one would be a ble to decorate a complete cake with one of these tubes.

I do hope I can get my family and friends liquored up enough that they won't realize these cupcakes taste like crap.

Sincerely,

Sauce

Dear Creepy Old Guy in my Driveway,

The pile of windows at the end of the drive, next to the road, with a "FREE" sign is there for withdrawals only. You cannot deposit your own creepy crap there, nor can you swap your creepy shit for ours. It looks rednecky enough down there with the windows, the floater*, the extra pickup truck, and assorted other construction stuff. Stick your crap in your own yard, and make your own "FREE" sign out of OSB and spraypaint.

Sincerely,

Sauce

*The floater is my dad's brown rowboaty looking boat. Yes, that's it's name. Maa was being clever.

Dear Driveway-sharing neighbor,

Really, truly. The entire neighborhood doesn't want to know your business. Perhaps you are afflicted with Voice Immodulation Disorder. In which case you have my sympathies. However, something tells me you're just uncouth. Permit me to explain the concept of "indoor" and "outdoor" voices.

An "indoor" voice is one that you use in court. You should use your "court/indoor" voice everywhere. Even when you're not in court, inside your own house, and even (though it sounds contradictory), outside.

An "outside" voice is one you use when your children are about to dart into oncoming traffic, and get hit by a tour bus. This is the only time you should use your "outdoor" voice.

And if your voice is so loud that I can hear it through your closed windows, across our driveway, in through my closed window, and over the television set? I will come over and tear your voicebox out.

Here, have a cupcake.

Sauce