Dear Ms. Manners,

Someone's using their cell phone in the stall next to me in a public restroom and I flush. Which one of us is being rude?

Sincerely,
Kayla Bradshaw

P.S. Everyone, I have a new blog over at http://kaylabradshaw.wordpress.com. I'm not all the way done formatting it and I haven't really gotten a feel for wordpress yet, but there are a couple posts up and if you feel like reading still, you should update your blogroll. XO

Dear Everyone,

I take that back. I do know one thing and that is that Michael Phelps has the hottest body of anyone ever.

No picture for you.

Dreamily,
Kayla

Dear Everyone,

Please don't ask me any questions about the Olympics. I don't even know what you are talking about.

Thanks,
Kayla

Dear Rev. Jesse Jackson,

Just in case you didn't catch Jay Leno (of all people) handing your nuts to you on tv last night, I've copied and pasted the transcript below:

Jesse said he thought Barack Obama was talking down to black people by lecturing them on things like fatherhood and being a responsible husband. Jesse thought it was insulting, not only to him but to his former mistress and their love child.

Zing!
Kayla

Dear Becks,

You're the only one in this picture who wishes they still looked like this. (With the possible exception of Nick Carter.)

Sucks,

Kayla

Dear Ramona Quimby,

I signed a twelve-month lease on my apartment today; by far the most grown-up thing I have ever, ever done. It made me think of you because, well, we sort of grew up together and I haven't heard from you in a while and I was wondering what you're up to these days. If you've joined the Grown Up Revolution or not. I imagine that you'd be with me... one of the reluctant ones.

I mean it's been since like, before middle school, dude, so I don't even know what you did for college. I thought about looking you up on facebook, but I'm not a big fan of "the poke" and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't remember me by name/profile picture only and I definitely don't want to make my profile public so, you know... whatever.

Anyway, signing the lease made me kind of sad and miss the days of waking up whenever I felt like it every day of June, July and most of August, recess, actually using my library card and not just reading summaries and interpretations on Wikipedia. I've done all that I can to maintain my carefree 8-year-old existance, making minor allowances for things like a piece-of-crap car, a couple "jobs" that allow me to feel "creative," and not wearing my shirts tied in a knot that rests above the left side pocket of my jeans. Gotta keep the line short of offspring and a 9-5 to maintain what's left of my integrity. Not that I don't want to have kids, because I do... desperately... so much so that it's almost embarrassing. It's just that I'd rather rewind to 17 and do that for the next ten years and then repopulate the earth. (No offense, of course, if you're a wife or a mother or a career woman or corporate or anything like that.) I just really miss corn dogs and flavor-ice popsicle afternoons and asking permission to leave the house.

I miss you, too. Look me up on facebook if you're not too grown up for one.

Your friend,
Kayla

Dear Yoga,

Look, I've been an idiot. The short story is that I'm sorry and I miss you. I realize now that I don't like myself when I'm not with you.

You're everything I never knew I always wanted.

It still isn't over.

You complete me.

I'm back, baby.

xoxo,
Kayla