Dear Easter Grass,

You are like that obnoxious relative that I have to invite every year. Nobody really likes you, but everyone is too polite to say so. You stay too long, drink too much, talk too loudly, and tell embarassing stories.

Really.

It is April 27th, and you are still lurking around in my guest room. I know you're unemployed and all, but really...Go look for work or something. I'm tired of you hanging around my house.

If you keep this up, you won't be invited back next year. I mean it.