Letter to Him

Hey.

I have been thinking about you a lot lately.

That is all.

Me

Letter to the MSM Girl

Dear Chubby Girl in the Plaid Uniform Skirt:

OK, skort, whatever. You still shouldn't sit that way in public. That is all I have to say about that.

Sincerely,
Fellow Library Patron

Letter to Spammers

OK guys, I have had the same email address for about 10 years, so I guess you feel like you know me. You don't. If you know me, you know that:

• There is absolutely no need for Viagra in this household. Other products possibly, but not that.
• I would not be surprised if the FBI had a file on me. I would be surprised if it was because you were offering me a job. Same to you Homeland Security and ICE. I am not interested in becoming a Border Patrol Agent.
• I am known to a number of African dignitaries. You should know by now that I have no money to spare. Call your local pirates.
• I do not want to participate in surveys or other "free" offers. If I truly want a timeshare in the Ozarks, whiter teeth, term life insurance or a fortune made on ebay, I know where to find you.
• I am also not interested in my daily horoscope or printing my own coupons.
• Ha ha ha, only a moron would offer me a line of credit.
• I Want to be Sedated by the Ramones is a great ringtone. I am not interested in any others, free or otherwise.
• You can quit searching for me. I am not lost. I have been in the same place for a while now, and am probably not going anywhere anytime soon.
• As for you, AARP and singles over 50, you not only don't know me, you are kind of starting to piss me off. If I am still at this address in another 10 years, you'll know where to find me.

Letter to a Ballsy Guy

I saw you today on the way to church. You were driving a flatbed truck with a small truckster on the back. There was nothing remarkable about you, or the truck, or the truckster. In fact, I barely registered your presence until one of my children asked what that red thing was.

You had a lovely pair of imitation testicles in bright red rubber dangling from the hitch of the truckster. I snickered to myself and glanced at my 10-year-old, who also had a knowing smirk on his face. I answered that yes, those were what they appeared to be, and no, I had no idea why men thought they were funny/cool/necessary.

As for the two three-year-olds at eye level with your set-up, I couldn't even begin to explain the situation to their satisfaction. Instead, I got to spend the rest of the drive trying to change the subject so that it would not be on their minds when we got to church.

So thanks for the laugh. I did appreciate the irony and the sly sense of humor. The evidence of your complex hanging in the face of two kids with a lot of curiosity and a still-developing sense of appropriate subject matter, not so much.

Signed,
A fellow driver with issues that are better left unexamined

P.S. I guess if you have to have them, red is better than blue!

Letter to Day Care

Dear Day Care -

I pay you a lot of money to take care of my children. In fact, I pay you more than I pay my mortgage company. That's OK, because they like you, and they seem to be learning everything the average three year-old should know. Every once in a while they learn something I don't think they should know. That's probably to be expected, since they spend more time with you in a day than they do with me.

When you call and tell me my child is misbehaving, I appreciate that you seem to want to work together to discipline him in a way that is both helpful and in keeping with what our family feels is appropriate. I do not appreciate it when the conversation ends up like this:

You: Can you talk to him about this at home tonight so it won't happen again?
Me: Absolutely
You: If he was my kid, he wouldn't be able to sit down for a few days, but that's up to you

Yes, it is up to me, and I don't like what you are suggesting. If we are going to give each other advice, then the next time you call me, expect the conversation to go more like this:

You: He sat there and pulled up a whole section of the carpet
Me: Wasn't someone watching him?
You: We asked him to stop, but he just got a hold of it and had it all pulled up before we could stop him
Me: If he pulled up a section of carpet that easy with someone watching him, then maybe you should have sprung for better carpet

It's probably a good idea if we just stick with our current business arrangement, and refrain from giving each other unwanted advice.

Signed,
The customer who pays the salaries of two people

Letter to Him

To My Favorite Rollercoaster Operator:

You tried to tell me that when the end came it should be short and sweet. In my typical fashion, I didn't really listen, except to the parts I wanted to hear. I will try to do better.

I didn't write before now because I wasn't sure what to say. I kept hoping that if I waited long enough, I might not have to say anything at all. Thing is, I am tired of waiting. I have spent too much time thinking "When X happens, then...", or "If Y happens, things will be different". That kind of thinking makes for an interesting conversation, but at the end I am always right back where I started. It works for a rollercoaster ride, but it doesn't work for real life. You know and I know that I will always be looking for something more.

As for you, I hope you find your version of happiness too. I really do. If you get bored waiting for it, I am currently staking out the vacant lot at the edge of town until the next carnival comes through. Seriously, if it turns out to be something you want to talk about, I'll be right here where I always am.

Until then, Mr. Rollercoaster Operator, thanks for the ride. It was fun while it lasted.

Still Your Friend if You Want,
Me

Letter to Her

Thanks for your concern, and for your generosity in giving him a choice. Whether he chooses you, I have no idea. I just know he didn't choose me, which actually makes life easier.

I do know that I went into our "relationship" with no expectations and that's how I'm leaving it. We made one agreement and one promise. We agreed that even though we couldn't explain what was going on between us exactly, we were willing to keep exploring it until it didn't make sense anymore. It quit making sense about the time you got involved, which is to be expected. We made a promise that we wouldn't bail on each other without saying a proper goodbye this time.

You say you can't be with somebody who loves someone else. Again, I have no idea about that. But I know that I don't want to be with somebody who would back out on a promise that easily, as if I wouldn't have understood.

So since I didn't get to say it to him, I'll say it to you - Goodbye.

Thanks again for the offer, but he's all yours, because he was never mine.

Your Friend,
Only for as long as it takes to change my identity

To the Big Guy on the Little Bike

To the Big Guy on the Little Bike:

OK, true, I could stop right there and it would be funny enough, but the truth is you were not being funny at all.

First, you were driving way too fast, which is your own business. You were driving recklessly, which makes it mine. Bright blue shirt notwithstanding, bikers are harder to see in traffic, even when drivers are watching for you. But when you come flying around people, cutting in and out of traffic, you are a danger to yourself and to others. You give responsible bikers a bad rep, and make drivers less willing to share the road you.

Second, you need to learn to ride before you get out on the road. (You may have been in front of me, but I still saw you choke it in the intersection.) Then, when you learn to drive that little bitty bike, you can get a bigger bike that will actually carry your fat ass and do 90 without whining.

Your Skinnier, Bike-riding Friend

To the Lady in the Grocery Store

To the Lady in the Grocery Store:

Yeah, you. You know who I am because you gave me a crazy look every time we passed each other. I probably gave you a crazy look too, but only because I couldn't believe you were really wearing that outfit in public.

You didn't look like somebody who wanted advice, but here it is anyway.

There's no need to be ashamed of your poochy belly.  Many post-menopausal women have that little bump out front. But for the love of chocolate, please do not wear stretch pants. All the stretch in the world wasn't gonna stretch far enough to cover that thing up. And your jacket was lovely. It caught my attention right away. Then it pointed right at your belly. And it wasn't pretty enough to make up for that, or for the cranky look on your face.

I know late-night shopping is more laid back than during regular hours, but seriously, that outfit would make anybody cranky.

Your Late-night Shopping Friend

To the Husband of...

To the husband of the lady driving the burgundy Tahoe:

If your wife offers to help you get dressed, RUN AWAY.  If she zips your pants in any way like she zips the metaphorical zipper of merging onto the interstate during rush hour traffic, she is going to seriously injure you.

I know you don't know me, but trust me, I am just looking out for you and the boys. 

Your Concerned Anonymous Friend

To the girl in the white Grand Cherokee

To the girl in the white Grand Cherokee:

My first suggestion, if you do not know how a four-way stop works, is to stay off of the street.  My second suggestion, for the obvious solution, would be to learn how it works.

For future reference, the first vehicle to approach the four-way stop has the right of way, aka the right to go first.  If two vehicles arrive at the exact same time, the car on the right has the ROW.  If two vehicles arrive at the exact same time, facing each other, both can go.  If one is turning, the car going straight has the ROW.

If it is "rush hour" in a small town, it is possible that vehicles will approach from all directions, some going straight, some planning to turn.  In this case, drivers tend to alternate turns: eastbound/westbound drivers going straight or turning right, followed by eastbound/westbound drivers turning left; repeat for northbound/southbound drivers; continue alternating as described until said "rush" is over.

A good rule of thumb: if it seems like everyone besides you is getting a turn, you may have missed your turn.  You can either figure out when it is your turn and go, or you can continue to sit there like an idiot until the drivers of the other cars let you know that it is your turn.  In this case, my third suggestion would be to not be surprised or upset if the advice was less than patient or polite.  If you are offended by this advice, then my fourth suggestion would be to go back to the original suggestion and stay the hell off the street.

Your Helpful Friend