Letters - This Needs To Be Said

EDIT: Watch out! There's swearing in the depths below, yarrr! But it's better smelling than Davey Jones' Locker! (I think).

Now I feel slightly copy-ish and cheaty, since I have seen other blogs do this. I first read many of Allie Brosh's at Hyperbole & A Half, and then some of Barb's over at Two Beans or Not Two Beans.


But I feel a burning need to do this, because I do this in my head mentally on a daily basis, and a lot of this isn't enough to make a post of, on its own. So here goes. Thank you for the idea, ladies, I hope you don't think I am a good-idea-thief.

Dear Noisy Comforter:

We bought you as a 'nice' addition to our room... to appear more grown up and coordinate with our brown and green scheme. You are fucking noisy as hell and I hate you. Washing in hot water and drying with fabric softener sheets have done nothing to muffle your incessant need to be heard whenever BF or I toss and/or turn in our sleep.

You are cloth. How the hell can you produce noises at the volume you do, betwixt two sleeping bodies? Seriously??... Reeeally?..... Seriously? You ruined my weekend sleep-in mornings and I hate you. Your expensive, noisy ass is being relegated to another room. We will happily go back to our ghetto-pilled-up-unmatchy comforter.


p.s. I am tired. Fuck you.

-S

Dear Driver Ahead of Me Who Drives Really Slow Until The Stoplight Turns Yellow, Then Guns It To Get Through The Light While Laughing at Me, Stuck At The Red Light:

Is there a congregation of you folk? Is it your life's purpose to drive around all day like this and just annoy the shit out of late people like myself who really really wanted to get through that light? Is your standard driving speed really somewhere between 35-45 km/hr? How is it that you seem to be able to consistently plant yourself in front of me on the days I am the most late for work?


You incite the most unhealthy levels of road rage in me. I want your licence revoked. Twice over. Bitch.


-S

Dear Puppy With Oversized Worm Belly, Razor Sharp Teeth, and Beloved Puppy Breath:

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

I love you. I wish I could eat you up in a vegan-appropriate way. You are so freakin' cute it hurts.


-S

Dear Fruit Flies In My Purse:

Listen, I have bad days and limited food options. I also like a good deal when I find one. If I buy local baskets of peaches (you know, to support local farmers, but mostly because they are yummy and on sale), I will undoubtedly toss one or two in my purse.


Now, fruit flies, I am also a forgetful person at times. I get this from THE MOTHER I think. When I either:

a) forget that I ALREADY placed two peaches in aforementioned purse or
b) believe I have eaten all peaches in my purse but turn out to be wrong

Please take some pity on me and do not find said peach(es) in an advanced state of decomposition in purse and feast like there is no tomorrow.


How can you even get into a sealed purse? You have skills beyond my earthly ones. (Like my impressive ability to ascertain whiplash consecutively). Please, please just stay in my purse until I make the awful discovery. Flying out, plumped up to nearly the size of a mosquito, in front of family and co-workers makes me look really gross(er). And by then, when I kill you, you actually have enough blood to splatter.

Please fruit flies. I promise to try to eat all fruit assigned to my purse. Should I slip, please just feast and remain in said purse until I can free you via purse contents emptied onto a patio table, letting you fly away happily and satisfied into the night.


-S

Dear Schultz:

Please do not head straight for people's crotches when they walk in our door [sidenote: Schultz is our dog, I am not referring to BF]. You never do this to mommy or daddy. Is it that we have uninteresting genitals? You already know us well enough? You think this is appropriate "getting to know you" behaviour with our human guests?

Criticize me? But... but MO-OM! I'm so cute... Don't make fun... *sad face*

Also, kindly refrain from enthusiastically "cleansing" both your penis and your anus for minutes on end. Especially in front of company. [sidenote: the poor boy does have something wrong with his bum, but we are scheduling him surgery and we are super-concerned.. but he has always 'enjoyed' this preening before problems arose.... I can only assume].

I know it's hard. I'm sure your flexibility and canine status make it practically expected of you, but still.


Finally - we love you very much, are worried about you, want you to be better, hope that you are happy here, but also request that you do not attempt to make contact with our faces/hands/surfaces immediately after you have "cleansed". At least get a drink of water or something. Please? I may be lying when I tell you that you have fresh breath. I just don't want to hurt your feelings, Schlutzy-pants.


-Love, Mom

Dear Winamp & All My MP3 Files:

When BF has (male, 30-45ish) poker company over and I offer to play music from my computer, please don't make me look like such a douche. I know, I know, I can make these things called "Play Lists" but I don't have itunes and shit isn't labelled properly by genre or year, making it really hard for me to scroll through ALL the songs and organize the way I should.

I promise to look into theses tech-savvy assistants to help streamline my choice of music, however until I master this, kindly cease selecting classic ditties such as:

• "Bangles - Eternal Flame"
• anything old Britney Spears
• 50s hits my father would enjoy (Pallisades Park, for example, including all other reminiscent-only downloads)
• slow/folk-y Sarah Harmer songs
• 90s house music such as "A Little Bit of Ecstasy - Remix" or "Berri - Sunshine After The Rain (Thunderpuss 2000 Mix)" (even I don't like remixes)
• anything from "The Bodyguard" soundtrack, or
• "Hot Chocolate - You Sexy Thing".

There are more, but neither BF nor myself can remember (probably because the embarrassment has forced us to block out the memories).


Also, please get in touch with all of my empty CD cases with decent music inside the house, ask them to contact the CD booklet in my car, tell them to come inside and next time we can avoid this SNAFU altogether by circumventing digital with some classic Tragically Hip or Pearl Jam CDs.


Thanks.... for nothin'!


-S

Dear Vampire Bill on True Blood:

I love it when you say Sookie. Sookie Sookie Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse.


I will miss you until Season 4.

p.s. This video is wayyyy too long, but you'll get the idea after a minute or so...


-Eagerly anticipating your return, S



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