Dear Mother Fucker,

Me and my Honda Civic thank you. We found it quite complementary and wonderful that you decided to run your car into us at some unknown hour. As I was sleeping, and my car was parked peacefully on the street, you must have decided to back and sideswipe the vehicle in the process. It was such a delightful gift on my Thursday morning to leave the house in a hurry and find that you ran into my car and didn't leave a note.

The new dents on her bumper, on her wheel cover, and the numerous white scratch marks are such a wonderful addition to her already wonderful appearance.

Cause the paint damage from the punks who egged my car randomly one night in Oakland is a little weak. I must admit. The entire left side of my car is not fucked up enough. Although, the egg damage (which oddly looks like the car was part of a mob shoot out) is now nicely complemented. Instead of the doors just being fucked up, you have completed the look with the front of the car. I just hope someone reams my end to make it the great work of fuckedupness it is so clearly destined to become.

And the dent in my hood from the random truck that backed into my hood at another unknown hour of the night as it was parked peacefully on the street, it looks far better now with the messy bumper. Now it is like a strange optical illusion. It almost looks like a game. A game of "count how many dents are on this Honda Civic."

I am sure just like the truck denter, the egg throwers, and the previous Mother Fucker who hit my parked car and took off my side view mirror, your failure to leave a note was just a way of being coy.

Oh, you tease you. I will think of you fondly, my random hit and runner, every morning as I go to my car and see those delightful new dents.

So thank you Mother Fucker. Actually, thank you all my Mother Fuckers for making my car so much more than ordinary.

Just like me, she is growing up to be an exceedingly beautiful marked woman.

Love,
-Angela and her Honda Civic

The most bitter horoscope ever...

A choice selection from my horoscope for this month:

"If you look over at the guy you're having dinner with and realize that he's just as rude, gassy and drunk as the idiot you divorced last year, excuse yourself, get a cab and go home. Pluto is all about learning from mistakes – not repeating them ad nauseam. The person that needs to make these inside out changes isn't the dumb date you chose – it's YOU! You may be better off alone. Ever thought about that? Your dog, cat or ferret might be a better companion – smarter and more loyal, too. It's time to make loads of peace with yourself – even if it means spending some time in the mountains in a private cabin. Actually, that sounds just about perfect."

Well, fuck April.