Dear Mother at Kwik Trip

Dear Mother at Kwik Trip,

I was waiting to check out with a few items, noticed you and your daughter walk in. With excitement in her voice your daughter exclaimed:


To which you replied:

Yeah, because that is just what you need, another egg roll. Why don’t you ask for a banana?

I was not the only person taken aback by this. Numerous people turned in your direction with disgust written all over their faces.

Obviously, your daughter’s choice of words like another would imply that you have bought her numerous egg rolls in the past, making her question completely relevant. Instead of saying, “How about you get a more healthy snack like a banana?” you made the decision to cut her down, and make her feel 2 inches tall in front of a store full of people.

Your daughter is overweight. That is your fault. Not every obese child’s parents are to blame – sometimes there are other reasons -. in this instance, however, I blame you. Not only does your daughter need to deal with the struggles of being overweight in everyday life, but even her own mother says hurtful things to her.

You are supposed to lift your children up. Make them believe they can conquer anything standing in their way. You are supposed to make sure she lives a long healthy life. You are supposed to make sure she enjoys her childhood.

Real question: what the hello is wrong with you?

You’re a bully and you disgust me.


J. Boggs

Dear Crazy Driver…

Dear Crazy Driver,

I’m aware I do not own a massive, expensive SUV such as yours, but if I did, I’d be more concerned with it’s well being. You on the other hand, clearly do not care about my not so luxurious vehicle, or yours.

You cut me off in the round-about. I know I know…those round-abouts are tricky. So, I let that one slide without getting terribly agitated.

When I passed you in the right-hand lane, I don’t think you saw me.  That rush you were in whilst zipping around that circular confusing roadway must have subsided, as you were driving approximately 20 MPH in a 35 MPH zone. Yeah…Those speed limits can also be tricky. Sometimes 25, sometimes 35 – I let that one slide also. I was doing everything in my power to give you benefit of the doubt.

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I do have a breaking point.

It was reached when you made a switch in speeds (again) and decided our vehicles were in a romantic relationship. Your fancy bumper might as well latch onto my simple, not so lavish one. Would you prefer if I just pulled you to your destination? I was tempted to give my brake a little tap, but then fear overcame me as I pictured your obnoxiously enormous automobile sending me to the heavens.

I’m curious, how many accidents have you been in? You must be very wealthy. Do you drop cash for new fancy modes of transportation regularly? Does the dealership (and auto mechanic) (and traffic cops) know you by name? Do you slow ‘er down in school zones?

So many questions.

Ultimately, I don’t know how you are alive, some people have all the luck. I wish you would take your money and hire a personal driver. Seriously.

In the interest of everyone,
The Girl in the Crappy Malibu.