An Open Letter to "Mrs. Jeter"

Dear Mrs. Jeter,

Earlier I was driving behind you. I'm sure it was really you because your vanity plate said so. When I came home I looked you up on Facebook, there you were with a giant sign hanging around your neck "Mrs. Jeter",  an arrow pointing to you so there was no mistake. And when you refer to your self as "Mrs. Jeter" I believe you must be the wife of pretty boy Derek Jeter, Yankee shortshop and captain. Just out of curiosity does Derek know?  Is your doctor aware you have stopped taking your medication, because frankly "Mrs. Jeter" I'm worried about you.

Signed,
A Concerned Citizen

Meet "Mrs. Jeter"

CC as Opposed to BCC

Just a little lesson for the copied impaired. Today at work I sent an email, on which several people were copied so I could keep them in the "loop" as to the status of a project. The person replying apparently didn't understand the others copied for a reason. Because when you reply, I wanted those other people to see it. It saves me the effort of having to resend the same email. This is the proper use of CC aka Carbon Copy. The BCC aka Blind Carbon Copy, is when you don't want the whole world to know every one's email or everyone to reply. You know like when you send out those "funny" jokes that you think everyone wants to read. Oh and by the way...They are not even funny. Actually, I just delete them.

The Wisom of Solomon

This morning I faced an extremely complex problem but I faced it head on! For some time I contemplated back and forth which decision I should make. It was not easy. The difficult choices consisted of remaining on my big, comfy couch or venturing a few steps from the front door of my apartment to the gym. And as I continued to watch the roundup of Sunday morning news the answer struck me. Step away from the couch and go down to the gym. You see they had on disabled athelete's including a blind man who runs an eight minute mile, which is far faster than me.

Yes Virginia there is a stalker!

Apparently, stalkers do not discriminate. You think only the rich and famous suffer from the syndrome but no it effects all social classes. I know because I have one. Actually, it isn't my first. Who could blame them? I'm quite charming! I remember the first time the stalker called, it was well past the calling time slot I allocate to strangers. So I answered because to me calling someone at 1030 PM on a school night indicates something's amiss. When I answered I said what's wrong and the stalker said nothing I just called to chat, I thought I immediately learned my lesson! So now every time the stalker calls I sit and watch the phone ring. And every time I run into the stalker on the street I say "can't talk now on y way to the gym". Guess who goes to the gym now? I'll never learn!!!!

Attention NYC Tourists

Well, I've been meaning to have this little discussion with you for some time but haven't had the chance. First, thank you for visiting the greatest city on earth! Seriously I really do appreciate you spending your hard earned money in my city. But now some ground rules. That little parade formation you use when you walk down the street, you know 4 across so no harried NYer on their way can get by - its got to go. NYC has many things, however space is not one of them. So from now on when I see you its single file. Think of it more as a formation a Marine might take on a 20 mile run with a full pack and think of me as your drill sergeant. Oh you don't want to get separated from your group. Sew one of those little tags "if lost please return to" into you clothes. Next, is when you stop and stare at those giant buildings we possess. You stop dead in the middle of the street like a deer in the headlights(you know that look well). I'm walking by and see someone looking up and I think "oh shite we've got a jumper"! Move along little doggy, once again you are obstructing traffic. Also, you seriously should not be riding on the trains. Take a cab. You see every morning you leave your hotel and board my train it doesn't make me happy. You all get on and stand up, then you do a head count (Bobbie Sue are you on? Jimmy Dean hold on) and then while you are all in the process of becoming situated the train lurches forward and you tumble like Jenga. Of course you find this hysterical and laugh like there is no tomorrow - I groan because there is a tomorrow and for me it will be a repeat of today!

The Doorman

So I live in a "doorman" building. Which in effect means a person who opens the door when you come in or out. Luckily, I just have a regular door. In buildings with revolving doors, the "doorman" spins you around in there. Almost like one of those playground rides. But apparently my "doorman" didn't get the proper job description. When I come home and he is resting in his chair, text messaging he seems like I may have disturbed his conversation. He quickly tries to get up and act like he didn't see me but he is no match for my stealth and I am already at the mailbox. Game over I win. Since I live in a "doorman" building, I sought out why we have a chair in the lobby. Well, where do you want the "doorman" to sit I was asked. No where, I replied I want him to stand - he is the "doorman" not the "chairman" obviously a position he would prefer!

Dear Darwin...

Listen Charlie we need to talk - intellect to intellect. What's that crap you wrote about in 1869? Survival of the Fittest? Was that a typo? Did you mean to say "survival of the fattest"? By now I thought there would be a genius population of super hero's running the planet but no when I looked around the subway this morning it was a scene right out of the biggest loser.