Welcome back - here's some cray-cray!

My dear readers! I am back! I have survived a very large work thing and I am here to entertain you once again with pithy witticisms and making fun of celebrity outfits. I was trying to figure out what to write as a welcome back post...something about how we define family, maybe? Something about what happens when an average-sized woman drinks a Big Gulp-sized hurricane in New Orleans? (Spoiler alert: NOTHING GOOD COMES OF THAT.) Something about peplums and how I am sewing them into all of my skirts so I can eat pizza with immunity? All of these could be entertaining, but none are as entertaining as the brilliant piece of writing I just found via Facebook - Werner Herzog's letter to his cleaning lady, Rosalina. Or, as he begins, "Rosalina. Woman."

I know, it's long. But it is SO worth it. SO chock full of amazing turns of phrase and absolute fury over the "caked debris haunting that small plastic soap hammock in the smaller of the bathrooms." I must insist you read it. Here are my favorite selections:

Tell me, what was there before you were born? What do you remember? That is nature. Nature is a void. An emptiness. A vacuum. And speaking of vacuum, I am not sure you’re using the retractable nozzle correctly or applying the ‘full weft’ setting when attending to the lush carpets of the den. I found some dander there.

The poetic ease with which he goes from nature to the dander in carpets is truly art.

I have only listened to two songs in my entire life. One was an aria by Wagner that I played compulsively from the ages of 19 to 27 at least 60 times a day [...] The other was Dido. Both appalled me to the point of paralysis.

This is meant to explain why he cannot tolerate Rosalina listening to pop music while she cleans.

The situation regarding spoons remains unchanged. If I see one, I will kill it.

WERNER HERZOG WILL KILL A SPOON IF HE SEES IT.

Do not fail to think that you are not the finest woman I have ever met. You are. [...] Thank you for listening and sorry if parts of this note were smudged. I have been weeping. Your money is under the guillotine.

We're all in agreement that all currency transactions will now be concluded with the phrase, "Your money is under the guillotine," right?

I am deeply, deeply in love with this letter because I think it is hilarious, completely sincere, and so very threatening. I would challenge us all to write similar letters to people who have done us a very small injustice such as not dusting behind the DVDs, but I don't think we'll ever be able to live up to this standard. Stay gold, Werner.