an open letter to her ladyship, karma

Dear Lady Karma,

First of all, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize in public for calling you a bitch. You remember that, right? Yeah, me too. It was wrong of me to call you that, even though everybody else calls you a bitch. And no, for the record, if everyone else was jumping off a bridge I wouldn't jump too.

I'm sorry. Honest I am.

But. Just for a minute, can we talk? You know, all woman-to-woman and stuff? Excellent. I really do appreciate you taking some time out of your busy schedule of paying people back to chat with me.

I can see how it might be just a teensy bit funny to you to play that little Mind Eraser Game with me, and help me to forget that I needs mah pillz and how, because yes, I did enjoy two and a half months of free pills (so did everybody around me).

But what did I do to deserve the flood of barf? Huh? Because seriously, if that was you, bitch, I will cut. you. with. mah. Wustoff. Because even without the ooooomlaut, that sucker is mean.

(For those of you who think I'm talking about my chef's knife? You're right. Everyone else, think I'm talking about my chef's knife.)

First, it was the effing cat. PROJECTILE. FELINE. VOMIT. On my superfab stripey SkipHop diaper bag. Yes, it's possible that is was *JUST* a hairball, but when liquid shit shoots from the mouth of an animal, I think I get a free pass to just go ahead and call it vomit.

Then? Karma? My HB. Barfing at somebody else's house. Which really, is fine with me, because the less barf at my house, the better. But it was in front of all the friends, and on the playroom rug, and their house still smells like HB Barf. And that seems a little unfair to everyone.

Also? Karma? My Wee Man. Barfing at the SAME SOMEBODY ELSE'S HOUSE. That was just not funny. Can you see why I'm leaning a little toward wondering if this was you, Karma? Can you see why I'm thinking you had a hand in this?

And to ice our already-vomit-encrusted cake? NINE HOURS OF BARF AT TEN MINUTE INTERVALS FROM HALF OF OUR CHILDREN. Nine hours. Was that really necessary? Really?

How and why other people call you "bitch" is becoming more and more clear to me. Not that I'm judging, Lady Karma, I'm not. But I would be interested in walking a mile in your shoes, and having a chance to spread a little of that Hot Lady Karma love around.

I'm doing my best here. And I'd really appreciate it if you could maybe get yourself a little Lex.a.pro and chill out.

Love and kisses,
Pamela