Dear Soccer Mom,
First off, let me compliment you on your choice of car. When I am stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic there is nothing that I like to stare at more than the rusted out bumper of a 1997 Dodge Caravan in the same shade of beige as the walls of a mental institution. Of course, you improved on this magnificent chariot by plastering it with support ribbon magnets and stickers promoting which soccer team little Timmy is contractually obligated to play on.
But let's get to the meat of this letter and that would be your inability to TEXT AND DRIVE AT THE SAME TIME.
Holy cow woman. (And I can say "holy cow" because you had a Cubs sticker in addition to all the other crap on the back of your car.) I know it takes a lot of motor skills to text, but how about applying those skills to maneuvering the 2 ton piece of machinery? I could see that you were really concentrating on texting because YOUR EYES WERE NEVER ON THE ROAD!
Oh, and the best part - the fact that you left a good four car lengths in between you and the car in front of you, allowing numerous cars to slide in, thus making my commute a good 15 minutes longer.
I hope you were late to pick up Timmy from soccer practice and he was abducted by a cult*.
~ The Office Scribe
* Okay, not like a mean cult, but one of those cults that are more like hippie compounds. So in 15 years Soccer Mom would see a homeless pot smoking hippie playing the bongos and singing about the wonders of hemp and go "Oh my god it's Timmy". Kind of like a Hallmark movie.