Dear Mr. Veen: sometimes when we're at a party I catch your eye across the room. This is one of the best feelings in the universe - I am convinced of it. Dear sink full of dirty dishes: you taunt me the moment I get out of bed. How can you be so very mean? Dear ladies of Bentleys: thanks for making Wednesday night the highlight of my week! You can thank me later for my smooth talking ways of getting us the special menu. Dear Self: since when do you smooth talk waiters anyway? Something about this late 30's gig is bringing out the tiger in you. Dear Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova: someone described this song as "like watching a feather float down from a tall building" = perfect. Dear Spring Break: I am both excited for and frightened of you. Be kind please. And last to Mr. Veen: you are the corned beef to my cabbage, the soda to my bread and the buzz to my beer. Over and out!