Dear person sitting behind me at the U2 concert,

Please let me formally apologize for my behavior last night. I realize having a loud, redhead sitting in front of you who is alternately screaming at the top of her lungs while jumping up and down, and making out with her husband, was probably not the best time for you. And I fully admit my waving the Irish flag above my head for the duration of Sunday Bloody Sunday was excessive, and had I been in your shoes, I would have firmly tapped me on the shoulder and said, "You'll be using that as a sling soon if you don't knock it off." In my defense, I had consumed an entire bottle of wine by myself during tailgate after having only eaten a Lean Cuisine at lunch and gotten six hours of sleep the night before.

Let me assure you, I am getting my karmic retribution, as my children woke me after only four hours of sleep and are torturing me with requests for breakfast foods and their legal requirement to attend school with all the associated lunch-packing, hair-brushing, and lost-shoe-finding. And we have not one, but two, playdates at the house today.
Friday Bloody Friday.

Sincerely,
Mean Mommy