Dear Mom and Dad,
The Mexican checker at my local grocery store asked me a question today and I'd like to relay it to you.
"How did a white girl like you end up being born in New Mexico?"
Instead of going into the lovely story of my parents relocating to New Mexico for my Dad's job so they could afford things like diapers and wipes for me, I gave him a look that said, "What is a Mexican like you doing out of Mexico." Oops. After I shot him a glare, he quickly apologized and said he was just giving me a hard time. I on the other did not apologize at all. I'm sure I added a couple fort nights of purgatory time to my sentence. What can I say, other than 'sorry I'm not sorry. Not even a little bit.' Maybe in conjunction with working on biting my tongue I should also perpetually wear sunglasses so as to not destroy a man's soul after he says something totally harmless that I take offense at.
Dear Mom and Dad,
If you're looking for me, I'll be in the confession line per yoo-zhoo-uh.
Love,
You're daughter who repeatedly keeps thinking, "Is Lent over yet? I can't keep striving for perfection under these near impossible conditions"
I just about died laughing. Please keep writing, your blog kills me (in a good way).
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