Open Letter

Dear people who wait with me in Dr. office waiting rooms,

I have a few requests:

Bro, You should change out of your sweats and put on real pants before leaving your house. You respect yourself, right? You didn't accidentally show up in the middle of a jog, right? Even Rocky wouldn't rock sweatpants to the doctor. The only excuse I can think of is that you have a horrible rash that itches if anything touches your skin and the only pants you're comfortable lining/coating with balm are your stained, gray sweats.

Young dude, I don't care about your gameboy. I don't want to hear the play-by-play of your sweet baseball game. I don't want to hear you insult the digital pitcher. Put on some headphones and talk trash to yourself- inaudibly. I also have a problem with the fact that you're SUPER into your game but you keep asking your brother what things like ERA and OBP mean.

Sweatpants guy, if your baby is wailing you should know by now that it wants a bottle. You know other random things about him that you shared with us. Seems like you should have the bottle thing down by this point. Taking 15 minutes to remember that almost seems like abuse. I also don't enjoy you chiming in the crying chorus with baby talk.

Old lady, young dude, sweatpants guy, discussing your opinions about the front office decisions made by our local professional sports teams seems pointless. Especially when one of you think sweatpants are appropriate. If you want to complain about Dusty Baker do it at home with your friends and family. They may even be alright with the sweats.

Sincerely,

Bitter Diabetic