Archive | October, 2008

Dear Halloween

31 Oct

Dear Halloween,

There are great band names out there. Like looking through today’s paper I found The Panda Conspiracy and Pig Heart Transplant and Velella Velella. And the Beatles.  A random query to a friend turned up Montessori Kids Love Sparkles and from her husband, Sexy Tooth. There are great names for other things, too, but I started this letter thinking of the band named Husbands Love Your Wives.  Every band name I come up with either sucks (Albacore Choir– actually, that’s not as bad as it could be) or is completely plagiarized (albeit with my own twist): Parents Watch Your Children On Halloween Because It’s Dark Out And They Are Wearing Dark Costumes And Not Paying Attention Because They Are Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh On Sugar And The Street Lights Seem Dimmer Than Usual And It Is Always Raining.

The other name I came up with tonight is The Spot I Spit-Shined:  inspiration here! (It’s worth it.)

I hope somebody is That Moment for Halloween.  She could carry around a baby doll and when people ask who she is, schluuuuuup.




Dear Oprah

30 Oct

Dear Oprah,

The thing is, I’m not sure I like you. The yo-yo diets and some of the things you focus on during your show—remember when you had Brad Pitt as a guest right as Troy was being released? You didn’t ask about the movie, his career, his hobbies, his troubled marriage, his sudden interest in being a Good Samaritan. All you talked about was his butt. You talked about how it looked in the clip you showed, you made him stand up and chanted until he bowed, you said butt so many times he looked embarrassed there was a crowd (you see that? I rhymed, that’s how much this annoys me and it was four years ago).

You’re on the cover of your own magazine every month, looking younger and slimmer and wearing more eye-makeup every single time—but I have to admire your bold use of color and jewelry, and hey, I understand that you are why thousands of middle-aged women all across the country buy it every time they are about to board a plane (as evidenced by my mother).

And I do love a good make-over, and you had perhaps the best transformation and rise to the top since Norma Jean Baker changed her name.

Also in the pro column, you’re a smart, savvy businesswoman and possibly the most influential Black woman in the public eye. You get millions of people to read—thank you and congratulations. But I hated She’s Come Undone, I felt like I was unraveling with the main character, and I haven’t read an Oprah’s Book Club Book since, and I could not stop laughing when Michael Cunningham refused to have your seal on The Hours. You give away cars to your audience fairly regularly as determined by the number of times I’ve heard about it, which I don’t know if I think is a point for Column A or Column B. Though I do have the feeling I would feel more positively about it were I to be in the audience. Then again, if I was there on a day when you gave out CDs or a scented candle, I would be pissed. How much does it suck to be those people?

And, unlike Martha Stewart, who I’m pretty convinced would sway me in person in under a minute, I don’t think that hanging out with you would necessarily help me make up my mind. I think it might be kind of scary, in a I-can’t-tell-what-you’re-thinking sort of sense. Whereas with Martha, I would talk cupcakes and how I keep overcooking fried chicken and admire the creepy way inanimate objects seem to put themselves in place whenever her fingers come towards them. Perhaps I’m not talking to my flowers sternly enough? Should I make an example of a miscarved pumpkin? I’ve got the scooping down, but the curves always get me and the entire concept of bridge work for the small pieces lives someplace I will never visit.

Oprah, congratulations on your success. Please send more information so I can determine how I feel about you. I want you to be as amazing as your magazine says I can be. But I’m just not on the Oprah train yet. This is your opportunity to sell me a ticket.

I look forward to seeing you on 30 Rock. Maybe it’ll tip my canoe.

With mixed feelings,


Dear Economic Downturn

30 Oct

The following is by a guest contributor:

Dear Economic Downturn,

Everyone deserves a chance to shine. Fair enough. But did you really have to pick such an inconvenient time to make your debut?

I mean, geezus. What’s an overeducated, white liberal 20something to do? Right when I get up the courage to venture outside the gilded towers of academe, you have to step in and hog the spotlight. Now, instead of showering me with unsolicited job offers, everyone is moaning and groaning about YOU. I thought the world revolved around me…?!

I’m willing to concede that you have as much a right to exist as I do, but geez. Next time can you send out a little memo that says, “Okay kids, pick up some marketable skills!” or “You might have to suck it up and apply for a job for which you are (gasp) overqualified?” or “Shut up and start making my latte?”

Enjoy your 15 minutes of fame and please– don’t overstay your welcome.


Disgruntled in Seattle

Dear People Who Ride Bikes Without Helmets

29 Oct
London Mayor Boris Johnson

London Mayor Boris Johnson, courtesy of Daniel Jones from the

Dear People Who Ride Bikes Without Helmets,

Please stop it. It’s dangerous.

It makes me want to yell out my car window at you but I’m afraid I’ll cause an accident. And then you will die because you will not be wearing a helmet.



PS— Tim, even though you want to look cute riding your vintage bike with your asymmetrical hair, and you do, this applies to you too.

Dear Friends Who Stop Calling Friends Back

29 Oct

Dear Friends Who Stop Calling Friends Back,

How are you? It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you. I know you’re busy with your new boyfriend, weekly kickball game, baby, decade-specific cover band, celebrity gossip addiction, and/or family drama wherein your brother created a viral youtube video and your grandmother saw him smoking pot in it. But. I would appreciate it if you would call me back anyway.

Also, if you are at the point where you are not calling me because it has been so long since you called that you are scared I will be mad, that’s just ridiculous. I mean, probably true, but that’s no way to go through life. Plus, it will be more awkward when you run into me at the grocery store and you’re buying Us Weekly and Febreze to spray on your brother for the family Thanksgiving dinner.



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