Dear Monthly Girly Thing (thanks Talia): I HATE YOU. I hate the way you make me hurt and all I want to do is curl up in a fetal position, even though I'm already taking two types of medication for you. I might add a third. And, after the 29th, some booze.

Dear Rash-Causing Conditioner (which is pretty much every conditioner on the market): I HATE YOU TOO. Why must I pay such a price for having nice, well-moisturized hair?

Dear Blind Melon: "No Rain" is the best song in the world. Thank you.

Last night I had a dream that I was running in a race. How timely, since the Chicago Marathon was this morning.

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