Friday, October 5, 2007

Dear....

.... Co-Worker... no, I don't care about your dog's anal something or other problem. If I don't tell you about my kid's diaper, you don't tell me about your dog's butt. Deal?

.... Cheap Editor... if you are going to pay writers pitiful teeny tiny little 'stipends' then please don't act as though you are The New Yorker. Although I understand you are so used to dealing with writers that are simply sooooo grateful to see their name in print that they'd probably pay YOU... PROFESSIONAL writers spell gratitude this way: Name on Check.

.... Members of Unnammed Organization ... I'm so tired of the politics. Can we please move on? It's not like we're saving lives or raising funds for underpriviledged kids or stopping the genocide in Rwanda. Lighten up.

.... Old Guard Member of Unnammed Organization ... I get it, you don't think they listen to you. But your choice to pick up your toys and leave the playground just means that we'll move on without you. Nothing more. But your sour-grapes Dear John letter said more about you than the organization.

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