To Steam Heat:
I live on the 7th (top) floor of an apartment building. We have steam heat. Heat in general rises. We have all our radiators turned off and it was still over 80 degrees in my home office one day this week. We have climate zones in the apartment. Arctic in the bedroom, tropical in my home office and temperate in the living room/dining room. HA keeps a rack of videotapes near the (turned off) radiator in his home office. He discovered today that 3 boxes had melted together. The tapes are fine, but the boxes are now permanently attached to each other thinks to the heat ascending from the 6 floors below.
Living in an apartment building greatly reduces my carbon footprint, but you, Steam Heat, are wasting energy by overheating my apartment, while making living here more than a bit unpleasant at times.
You have pissed me off for the last time, steam heat. 81 fucking degrees in January? The next time we move, and every time after that, it will NOT be to a place with steam heat. Good day to you sir. I said good day.
To people whose blogs start playing music automatically when you open the page:
Yours is not the only blog I visit. Firefox has these awesome things called tabs which let me open several blogs at once so I can read one while waiting for another to open. I've been checking out the blogs that are doing the One World One Heart Giveaway (and I suggest you do the same, reader). I opened 5 blogs at once. Four of them were playing music automatically. You can imagine how that sounded.
I'm not just visiting these blogs to enter the giveaways. I'm also looking for new blogs to subscribe to. I have this thing called iTunes that plays music for me, such as when I'm reading blogs. If you feel the need to bombard me with music while I'm already listening to music, I'm not coming back. If I were still working in an office, and visited your blog at work, you'd probably get an angry email at me about the embarrassment and trouble you caused me.
To the lemon reek:
I have vanquished thee, sir. With one of those big, honking three-wicked candles. Your chemicals are probably still burning holes in my brain, but at least you're not giving me migraines anymore.
To the outgoing President and his administration:
Feel free to let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.