can i have a bite of your ice cream?

Dear city of Pittsburgh:

You know how, on I-279 South right there downtown, you’ve got the street signs attached to the bottom of the road overhead? Yeah? Well you can’t fucking read them until you’re directly under them. If the right lane automatically exits, maybe you should consider, oh, I don’t know, putting a sign that says “right lane exit only” before the fucking exit when it’s too fucking late to change lanes.

And dear everyone who thinks the moving sidewalks are airport-equivalents to amusement park rides:

God fucking damn fuckity ass shit fuck you.

And dear every adult woman who insists on traveling with a teddy bear like you’re a fucking three year old:

It’s not cute; it’s sad.

It’s sad, you’re fat, and you’re going to die alone.

And dear cute girl with the cleavage 10 or so people in front of me in the security screening line this morning:

Hi there.

And dear flight attendants who think I’m actually paying attention when you ask me if I’m willing to accept the duties and responsibilities that come with sitting in an exit row:

I really just wanted the extra leg-room. I don’t even know what you’re saying to me, because I’m still thinking about that girl’s cleavage. I’m totally tuning you out. The nodding is just so you’ll go away.