Dear Door to Door Solicitors*,
I admit that I could easily pass for a teenager until I was 28 or so, but that is no longer the case. I now have gray hair and wrinkles and usually a semi-naked child attached to my hip, so asking if my mom is home really just pisses me off because it proves from the get-go that you are full of shit. Just a tip.
(As an aside, a fireman totally got flirty with me in the grocery store this morning, and I was way too busy trying to figure out which child was going to pee on me first to care. How did it come to this?)
*Solicitors, in this case, means salesmen, not prostitutes. I rarely get door to door prostitutes anymore.