Dear Mr. Joe,
DUDE! WHEN THE HELL ARE YOU OPENING UP IN AUSTIN, HUH?!?!
Excuse me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. Let me regain my composure.
I’m just really really anxious about your impending arrival in our fair city.
Last year, you teased us with the news of your future opening in Austin like a laser pointer being aimed straight above a cat’s face.
YOU, SIR, ARE THE STUPID LASER POINTER AND WE ARE THE CATS!
YOU LEFT US AIMLESSLY PAWING AT THE FRIGGIN’ WALLS, oops, sorry, I mean, you left us aimlessly pawing at the walls, hoping, praying that we will somehow feel your physical presence.
Your establishment is a big deal to us Austinites since at one point or another we’ve experienced you in another city.
We got to try your fine $2.99 libations and magical cookie butter and the luscious tastes have never left our trembling lips.
You left an impression on us, sir. We dream about you often, in tropical Technicolor of reds, yellows and blues.