Dear Male Cleaners,

While I truly appreciate effort on behalf of the shopping centre management to at least put up the illusion of their amenities being hygienic with the strategic obvious yet inconvenient dis(placement) of mops, buckets, spray bottles and other cleaning paraphernalia (including real people from time to time), I have to say I find it somewhat disconcerting to be using the facilities in the female toilets when I suddenly hear the sound of a decidedly male voice.

After a reassuring review of the absence of urinals in the memory of the scene as I entered the room and thereby confirming that I am not the one in the wrong place, one is then moved to contemplate why a male cleaner would feel it necessary or in any way appropriate to be holding a conversation in the ladies room.

Please, just slide your mop and bucket ineffectually around the floor then pack your 'cleaning in progress' sign (which is obviously not to be understood as being in any way literal) under your arm and leave as quickly as possible - or at least put on a high pitched voice in the event that you do have to say something so as not to upset the correctly gendered patrons.

Sincerely,
Someone who is prepared to wait in the cubicle until she is sure you are gone in order to avoid the uncomfortable confrontation of eye contact between both parties.

Dear Shoppers,

Please know that as you are walking through the shopping centre and you are overcome by an urge to stop suddenly and without warning in the middle of the thoroughfare, top of the escalators or, my favourite, two steps inside a doorway, it is very difficult for me to stop my heavily laden trolley with the cracked handle that is pinching my fingers, dinted frame and dodgy wheel quickly enough so it is more than likely that I will *accidentally* ram you, possibly several times, through no fault of my own.

Seriously, have a think about it. You are NOT the only person in the universe and there really is a social and cultural necessity to be aware of others in your immediate vicinity and take necessary precautions to move to an appropriate space out of the flow of traffic before you stop. Really, it's not rocket science.

Sincerly,
Publicly Unliable

Dear Checkout Chicky,

Please note that it is not necessary to comment on all of my purchases. You kinda freak me out a bit when you do that. We are not friends. This is a business transaction. I do not want your opinion on my salad dressing, your assumptions about my need for Berocca or your commentary on such and such a new product that you had seen and had been wondering about whether it was any good or not. And, while I smile and nod, I really have no intention of reporting back to you on whether the product met our shared expectations.

Sincerly,
Anonymous

Dear Zuma Blitz,

I love you.

No, I hate you.

No, I love you.

I hate you.

I love you.

I hate you.

Arrrrrrggg, I can't live without yoooooouuuuuu!!!!!

Sincerly,
One of your many pathetically addicted fans who have a million and one other things to do (including sleeping) yet who still finds themselves playing Zuma Blitz until all hours and getting nothing else done each day.

P.S. Love the new board ♥

Dear receipts printed on thermal paper,

You know you're meant to last for seven years without fading for taxation purposes, don't you?

I don't need your help getting in trouble from the taxation department.

Sincerly,
Someone with increasingly failing eyesight from having to squint to work out the numbers on the thermal dockets

Dear P-Plater who sat in the right lane on the freeway all the way from the Central Coast to Newcastle,

Just wondering if you've ever noticed those big signs on the freeway that say "KEEP LEFT UNLESS OVERTAKING". No, I didn't think so.

Also, the speed limit for Green P-Platers is 100km/h, not an inconsistent variation between 90 and 130.

Sincerly,
One of the fifty or so other drivers who had to overtake you via the left lane but one of the few who were able to resist the urge to drive 3 metres from the back of your car in the vain hope that you would get the hint and get the fuck out of the right hand lane.

Dear middle-aged guy at the park who is going bald, is slightly tubby and who has decided to walk around without a shirt on,

Your nipple ring is scaring the children.

Sincerely,
Some who also shouldn't be seen in public topless but who actually makes the choice NOT to

Dear Yahoo

I've never heard anyone say, "I don't know. Let's Yahoo! it".

Just saying...

Sincerely,
Google

(NOTE: This Dear So and So was received as an email FW)

Why I'm Here

Generally I try to keep the things that I say and write positive but this results in a hell of a lot of wasted sarcasm lying dormant within me and poisoning my system.

So, to help me maintain the chaos side of the balance equation, this blog will contain the outpourings of the more vehement side of me but in the structured design of the Dear So and So letter.

There are some great Dear So and So's around so I reserve the right to post (naturally giving credit to appropriate source) rants that are not my own.

So, buckle yourself in and hold onto your hats - it's going to be a wild ride but you can earn yourself a T-Shirt at the other end, and that's just gotta make everything all worthwhile.