Category Archives: Open Letter

Would You Rather Wednesday #4

There’s no question today, folks.

Say no SOPA! Yes to hot soup.

In protest to the Stop Online Piracy Act and the Protect IP Address act, many websites are participating in a blackout.
View a short list of websites that don’t exist for the day here.

The powerful shadows of government have realized that the extent of their rule ends short of the internet. SOPA and PIPA are two acts that will allow US enforcement to work its way on the internet for reasons they deem necessary. Read about it here and come to your own opinions about these two potentially harmful acts. SOPA and PIPA threaten the meaning of the internet, as well as businesses, innovation, internet growth, and more. SOPA and PIPA are a way for the government to get their foot in the door and make a move towards a controlled web.

I believe freedom extends to our fingertips, and allowing this to pass will certainly cause more harm than good.

Do something about it. Sign a petition: or find your representatives through Wikipedia’s quick and easy helpful finder:

Exercise your right as an American because the leaders and the led are two groups that should work in tandem.

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Pa-Pa-Pa Poke Her Face

One of the more useless functions on Facebook is the “poke” feature. What exactly does this do, besides annoy the living crap out of people? “Teehee, I virtually poked you.”

No, you didn’t.

I’m sitting at my desk right now, completely poke-free. I don’t know you who think you poked, but it wasn’t me. I have no splitting pain in my side and unless you’re some invisible entity, you sure as hell didn’t poke me.

There’s a higher chance that I poked myself.

And the poking wars! Well, I hate having notifications stuck in the upper right hand corner of my homepage, so of course I unintentionally encourage this idiotic behavior. Until someone finally forgets, the pokes are generally endless.

I’m damn tired of it. Next time you poke me, I’m camping outside your house in the nearest bush and waiting for you to step out. I’m going to tackle you to the ground, Facebook Poker, and finally give you all the pokes you deserve.

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Dear Dude

Dear Dude from High School I had a crush on who decided I wasn’t good enough,

I saw you the other day working at Film Depot. You looked good! For a balding 25 year old. Yeah… I saw that. Funny how you tried to hide it by letting your hair get long. How you could have possibly come up with that solution is beyond me. Oh, and the beat up 1984 Volkswagen golf? Classic touch. Real.. retro… Ugh, sorry, excuse me. I almost barfed writing that line.

Hey! I was wondering about that Alternative Rock band you had been trying to put together. Yeah, how’s that going? Oh, still in its Garage band phase? Oh, totally, I know how that goes. It hasn’t really taken off. Still trying to find your sound after all these years. Dude, that’s rough.

Wait a sec! How’s that babe you totally ignored me for? Remember the one with the rockin’ body? Man, she was hot! Oh, she’s a porn star now? She left you because she didn’t get your music? Harsh, bro. Was it the inquisitive artist’s soul that confused her, or just the fact that you started working at a movie stop right after high school after promising her she’d get to star in your ‘way awesome’ music video? Man, women. They just don’t get the life of a poor musician. Of course it’s not all rockin’ out and partyin’ on. It was her, huh? She stopped the creative flow. Good thing you got rid of her.

But I bet you’ve got your own place now, yeah? Living in a cool bachelor pad with a bitchin’ view? Oh, at your mom’s house? She’s making you sleep on the couch!? What the hell, man? Doesn’t she understand that a grown man has to have his own room? She shouldn’t just expect you to get out when family members are around! How embarrassing, dude. Not cool.

Well, I’ll let you get back to stocking those totally awesome movies. Good luck with ‘Flying High’. Oh, you changed the name of your band? Now it’s ‘Just Get Drunk’? Oh, dude, please, you’re totally going to go places.

Peace out,
That girl who “just wasn’t what you were looking for”

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An Open Letter to the Girl Wearing Short Shorts in the Winter

I saw you. Sitting alone at the bus stop, tapping your foot along to whatever inane music was blasting through your earphones. Or tapping your foot in an attempt to disguise your shivering.  Yeah, I knew. Everyone knows. You’re not fooling anyone in your black NYU hoodie and itty-bitty jean shorts. When you woke up this morning, what possessed you to put those on? Did you think, for a second, that maybe you woke up in Hawaii? All right, fine. I’ll give it you. Maybe you were pressed for time. But jeans? Really?

Jeans get cold. Quick.

I’m not going to pretend I can’t see the goose bumps on your legs from all the way over here. I mean, every small gust of wind is like a punch to my face, and I love the winter! Wonder what it’s doing to you. But, honestly, why?

Did you think it was fashionable to walk around on icicles? Is the top half of your body that only half that counts? Someone wrote in your 8th grade science textbook that gangrene only extends to your upper limbs and that was the only thing you ever retained from your childhood after the hard drugs and liquor took over your brain?

Yeah, I’m going to assume you must be smokin’ some good stuff to be walking around in 50 degree weather with a pair of jean shorts, flip-flops, and a hoodie. A part of me, albeit a small part, just wanted to run up to you and shove you into my pocket as an act of kindness.

Maybe this one can be saved.

No, there will be more. One winter, they’ll adorn every Christmas clothing ad and end up a huge fad. People everywhere will freeze to death in an attempt to emulate you, short shorts girl, you and your indelible fashion sense.

Just tell me why. Why do you do this? Is it a trial into adulthood? A mating ritual? New way to skip exercise and shake all the fat away? And how, how do you do it? How do you manage to sit on those cold, bare metal benches with half of your ass exposed and your poor thighs truckin’ through it?

I want to know what you know.

You’re one crazy sonnababetch, but you know what, short shorts girl? Props. Major props for keeping a straight face all day long.

Mad jelly,


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Live from the Porcelain City

Come on. You know you do it. I know you know you do it. For sure, I’m not the only one in the world who performs such an unspeakable evil. Even your own mother does it, most likely. And if your grandmother could, well she would too!

Frowned upon by anyone, practiced by everyone…I’m talking about…

Laptops in the bathroom. Don’t! Don’t give me that look! The comfort, the practicality of it all! And in the winter, it warms your tush. It’s your own personal heater and entertainment system all in one. Oh, you say you take a paper or magazine? Probably some popular name that, no doubt, can be found on the internet.

Don’t you lie to me!

Hey, listen. I’m not gonna judge you. I’m one of you, man. Chillax. Feel the plastic underneath your skin, recline against that porcelain wall. Type your little heart away. I feel ya.

No,no. Shh. I’m not gonna tell anyone. You and I, we’re bros now. There’s no turning back. In fact, we’re laptop-in-the-bathroom bros. Or hoes. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure if a hoe has a laptop, she uses it there. I don’t discriminate.

Brown, black, purple, caterpillar: I don’t care what you look like. You use your laptop in the bathroom. Admit it! How many times do you find yourself at a friend’s house, looking longingly down the hall and into the bathroom? Time is limited. Bowels don’t wait. Calculations are made. Can I make it there and back with my laptop and have no one notice?

We can’t keep living in the shadows like this! Life’s too short to be sitting on the can without your laptop anywhere from five to fifteen minutes! Oh, my  god. I’ve got it.

We should make a petition. Or broadcast from our bathrooms! Yeah! That’s ingenious. Embrace your primitive side! You take your dump and message your friends on Facebook at the same time! Let the whole world know you won’t stand for this anymore.

I use my laptop in the bathroom, and you like it. That’s your new mantra.

Learn it.

Live it.

Love it.

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Open Letters #3: Glitter Clouds

Dear Glitter Dust Cloud,

Oh, glitter dust cloud that hangs in front of my register as people pile thousands upon thousands of ornaments and knickknacks along the table, how I loathe you.
I’m not sure how many of you little multicolored specks I have inhaled and choked upon. I don’t know how many times I’ve gone into a coughing fit, eyes watering, face red, as my customers just continue along, filling my space with more and more dots of doom.
Whoever said the sign of a good Christmas meant for you to fill your home to the brim with little particles of shine has probably never stood in front of countless people rushing with glitter infused things.
It also doesn’t help that all the registers are by the doors, so when one opens, a tumultuous hurricane rises up and attacks my face with a force that leaves me washing large amounts of glitter from my hair for four days straight.
“Is there glitter on my face?” has become the regular custom for the cashiers to say after a particularly large crowd of people.
“You have glitter on you, ahahaha, you look like a Christmas ornament yourself!” Is the OH SO FUNNY joke that our customers constantly say, as if no one in the world could have possibly thought of that joke from looking at me. As if I’m supposed to laugh uproariously at the mere idea that I look a fairy puff princess.
But I digress. It’s not my customers I abhor. It’s you. You, glittery cloud. You fine mess of teeny-tiny little circles of pure childish gleam.

I despise you…

With much hate and passive aggression,

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Open Letters #2: Save my Skin

Dear Winter,


I know you think you’re cool and all that, but I’m here to tell you that your coolness is touching me the wrong way. Literally. Now, I love breezy mornings as much as the next person, but what I don’t love is this:

Imagine waking up in a freezing room. You remove the covers and make a sleepy shuffle to the bathroom. Eyes still partially closed, you slip off any undergarments and take a seat. The surprise that follows is shocking; your ass is now temporarily frozen by the icicle of a toilet seat underneath you. You realize that you’ve already sat down and there’s no going back. So you brace it. You sit there, goosebumped, half-naked, and vulnerable to the elements, just trying to get your day started.

That’s messed up, Winter. What kind of prank is that? How would you like it if I came to your house and, for 2-4 months, consistently melted your ass every morning? I don’t know about you, but attempting to hover over Lake Eisurassof for 30-55 seconds every morning is messing with my head.  I just don’t have that kind of strength in the mornings!

Haven’t even had a slice of toast yet.

You don’t even get this, do you? You’re not even listening! I love you, I do. I really, really do. I just want you to leave the toilet seat and my warm thighs out of this. Or go to the neighbor’s house. I always hear them talking shit about you.

You’re not gonna do anything, huh? Well, at least my clothes won’t melt onto my skin (Yeah, I’m talking about you Summer. You’re next, you frilly piece of…).


Well, see you in the morning,


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Open Letters #1: Department Store Drama

An Open Letter to the Lady That Came into my Department Store…

Dear lady that came into my department store the other day to bitch about prices,

Your purchase was a seasonal item. A Christmas ornament that was 50% off. It was on sale. Already had a discount. 50%…. off of a 3 dollar item. A three dollar item. Three.
You cannot possibly tell me you had the right to bitch because your coupon was only for regular priced items. A coupon that I might add was another 50% off.
Do you just expect to have things for free?
Did you come here thinking that you were just going to waltz in and we’d say “Here! Oh look! The Coupon Queen! Have all of our Christmas items at whatever price you want!”
This world does not revolve around you.
THEN you had the gall to complain because we wouldn’t let you use multiple coupons on your purchase.
50% off the entire purchase… and then another 40% off entire purchase. Do you just take us for idiots?
I cannot fathom what goes through your mind when you come into our store. My brain just cannot wrap itself around your method of thinking.
As if the fact that you say, “I got this from the email you sent me” is going to have any effect on the fact that our policy says only one coupon per transaction.
“But that’s ridiculous!” You say.

Have a nice day, ma’am. And Merry Christmas.

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