Letters to Detroit (1)

Dear Detroit,

It's not you it's me. But no really, it's really you. All your pointless traffic for no discernible reason that I can see. It's like LA, but worse because we're in Detroit. You know, the city that is dying before our very eyes... Seriously, it's not like anybody out here has a job. So why does it take 45 minutes to go 11 miles? It's one of the mysteries of the modern universe. I have to say I'm really disappointed in you. Also, Woodward, you're fired! Seriously, go to hell. You're supposed to make traveling to the belly of hell faster, but you suck at life. You have 4 lanes going in either direction, but the speed limit is 45mph, and the timing of the lights is all cattywampus and ill timed. Also, the roads in Detroit as terrible! I'd rather ride in a 1948 jalopy down a dirt road at speed than be in a brand new fully equipped Chevy Malibu, (complete with leather reclining seats,) going down the Stephenson highway.

That Moment...

If there is one overused, hackneyed phrase it's 'that moment.' As in, "That moment when you realize that you're out of cheerios, which like re-ally sucks because I really wanted a bowl." Or, "That moment when you realize that your car is out of gas." Actually that last one kind of works, because, in that moment you do realize something crucial. But my point still stands. Please for the love of all that is holy stop! You don't sound ironic you sound pathetic. Somebody who really isn't at all creative pretending to be so a bunch of people will like their Facebook status update.

The next time I see a status including that phrase I'm going to hunt you down and punch you in the face. Seriously, by the time I've finished this I've already punched myself in the face four and half times.

Balaclava

Mind equals blown! I first heard this word used in a Harry Potter book. Something about Hagrid moving Christmas trees and removing his "balaclava." I just assumed it was a scarf with a fancy name. Fast forward til yesterday. I kept hearing people, in this book I was listening to, making references to Mother F-ing balaclavas. Like seriously call it a GD scarf already!!!! It sounds like a Greek dessert, or flaky crusted pastry. The answer is D, none of the above. It's a face mask. Secretly, I feel that I have two options, to feel like an imbecilic for being such an ignoramus, or if I should go on strike against the word and have it eradicated from the language. Either way, I'm not planning on ever wearing one.