dear shania twain,

i hold you responsible for my lack of sleep as of late. you see, they [for reasons unbeknownst to me] play your music on the trailer tape at work. it seeps into my unconscious and it sits there until the wee hours of the morning and then i hear the horribly familiar strains of these "songs" you "sing" and i can't get them out of my head. i drift off to sleep and then it starts all over again. i hate you, lady. to quote one of your lyrics: "i'm gonna getcha." yeah. i'm gonna getcha and i'm gonna eatcha with my cheerios.

sincerely,

erin

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