Dear Cubicle,

How come you are not as cool as my stoop? How come when I drink coffee sitting in you I feel like stabbing a pen in my eye, not writing the world's greatest book of letters to random things? And how come you kept all of my work contained for the week i was off? You couldn't find anyone else to take care of this nonsense?

~Arual

Dear New Sandals,

Thanks for being kind to my feet today and not insisting that you need to be gently broken in. I really appreciate it. It makes being back to work somewhat okay.

~Arual

Dear Dolly Iris,

I am starting to get really worried. You better have some awesome adventurous tale to share when you show up

~Arual

Dear Stampede,

You intrigue me with your "sneak-a-peek" promo tonight BUT I am going to hold off until I can get in free due to donating my time for entry. I missed you last year, Stampede. No, you are not as glamorous as an Eastern European trip to a country that I often have to explain the reason why I travelled to. But you are real. Maybe not as real as the people in the country I visited last year with their real problems and real struggles. But you offer this city the opportunity to party for ten days straight, no questions asked. Except I do have questions Stampede. Firstly, what is this "leave your ring at the door" thing I hear happening at bars? Stampede, are you turning my conservative province into a liberal orgy-fest?

~Arual

Dear 4:00,

What took you so long?

~Arual