dear Imagine Dragons Pandora station,
you're my new favorite station. I may or may not have crazy danced while listening to your songs more than once at work today. Keep being you, in all of your Vampire Weekend-y, MGMT-y, Imagine Dragon-y, dance party-y wonderfulness.
You told me I would be getting out of work by 10:15 at the latest this morning... I DIDN'T GET OUT UNTIL 11. I'll get you. And your little bullseyed dog, too.
dear Mr. Sylvester Canon,
dude, you're taking some bangin' pictures as of late. We make a good team. I'll forgive you for dying yesterday. Just don't let it happen again.
dear Barbra Streisand,
you're so money. Especially in Funny Girl. Which is in my top five fave movies.
HEEEEYYY MR. ARNSTEIN, HEEEEREEE IIII AAAMMMM!
It's never a wrong time to watch you. But now I'm totally ready for winter. I want scarves, mittens, and ice skating...now please!
don't read the above letter. You're my faaaaave. Hurry up, already!
I think we're kind of getting a little better at singing, yeah?! I'll credit all of those hours of singing (shouting?) show tunes to my dog.
WHY ARE YOU SO OUT OF TUNE? This is not okay. We
will not have a repeat of last year, where I was trying to tune you and
you slapped me in the face with one of your strings. Nope. Not happening.
thank you for being kind to me while I was in Las Vegas. The lack of sunburning is much appreciated.