Little girls are cute and brimming with unbridled love, but a 15-minute road trip with two chatty young ladies shouldn’t leave the driver wishing he were waterboarded. Jesus Christ on a cracker stop talking for three seconds. Yes yes yes! The answer is yes! Or no no no! The answer is no! Whichever answer will stop you rambling like the pilot episode of The View played at 78 rpm. If you begin one more sentence with the word “Daddy” my head is going to pop off my spine and parabola into a ditch gritting its teeth like an electrocuted inmate who received a hair less voltage than required to mercifully end his life. Grant us the humanity of silence for the seven seconds while we’re on the phone with the boss or the client or the *&^#$ telemarketer. Yes, you’ve lowered us to someone who requests a nanosecond of peace for the sales guy who doesn’t respect the don’t-call list because we count it as adult interaction. We love you but stop talking. In the name of everything that is holy, the below signed ask that you take a *&^#$ breath.

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