Archive | April, 2010

Dear Crutches

29 Apr

Dear Crutches,

Oh man, when I was younger, I thought you were so cool. Just so freakin’ bad ass.  A kid would come to school with crutches, and something inside me would just curl up and whimper with jealousy.

I had visions of being stoic and silently suffering such great pain…of cheerily swinging along on my crutches, saying oh this? boring story really…fell off a mountain / horse / slipped while climbing across a waterfall to save a drowning puppy.

Probably this all was the result of reading, when I was pretty young, Midnight in the Dollhouse by Marjorie Stover, in which a girl falls while climbing a tree, breaks her hip, is bedridden for like the longest time ever (maybe nine whole months), and spends that time playing with this beautiful dollhouse, where the dolls come alive at night and want to help her because she is just so sad and suffering and yet also cheerful and forbearing, but of course she doesn’t know they’re alive and can hear her and talk about her and that they go on adventures and such.

Also the result of reading, when I was about fifteen, an absurd number of Dick Francis books.  In which jockeys are always falling off the horses during career-making races (usually due to foul play) and sustaining terrible injuries, but of course they refuse hard plaster casts, because pain they can deal with, and soft wraps heal faster and straighter, and being bedridden is intolerable to these (tough yet intellectual) men of action. Of course some thug usually comes along and thumps on the still-swollen yet rapidly healing ankle to excruciating results, but that’s not the point.

Now, whenever I see someone on crutches, I think about how sore their armpits must be and what a freakin’ pain in the ass grocery shopping is when you’re not fully mobile.

Still, crutches, I thought you were really desirable for something like 17 years of my life, and probably pretty not desirable at all (are-you-kidding-me-obviously-what-was-I-thinking) for a much shorter period of time (albeit more recent), so this one’s staying in the fan mail pile. Ha. How’s that for logic.

MM

PS– Plus, casts really itch.  And itching might be the worst sensation on earth.  Maybe.  Just saying.  Except for vomiting. And coughing.  Maybe being in labor; I don’t know.

Dear Kirsten Dunst

27 Apr

Dear Kirsten Dunst,

Meh.

I hated Marie Antoinette, think I remember you being great in The Virgin Suicides, and am embarrassed to admit I saw Wimbledon (I was sick ok and my roommate owned it so back off). Let’s be honest, I loved Bring It On.  And it’s hard to argue with you in Interview with a Vampire, but that was so long ago I’m not sure it’s allowed as evidence anymore.

You wear unflattering clothes. You might secretly be a brilliant actress. Or you might not be. But you might want to prove that, either way, before we forget who you are.

Bravo for wearing pants when you go out in public, though.  That seems to be a problem for some people (Lindsay. Rihanna. Gaga. I’m thinking of you.)

Carry on, I suppose.

MM

PS– Despite my aforementioned threat of you fading into obscurity, please don’t marry Tom Cruise.

Dear Padres

21 Apr

Dear Padres,

So the truth of the matter is, I could never get that into the Mariners because I hate being cold.

And let’s be honest, watching baseball on tv…meh. There are just so many other choices at any given moment!

But here!  Here, with the Padres!  Mentally, I was all go Padres! And baseball games! In the sunshine! What a novel concept! Let’s do it!

And then last night, I went ahead and fulfilled that dream. I even took the trolley, which made no geographical or transportation sense. I went to happy hour Mexican food, and then I ate a hot dog. Sounds like the dream, right?

It turned out that I ate my hot dog huddled behind the wall of the stadium watching a tv monitor because it was raining and the wind was blowing and yes, I was wearing jeans and a fur-lined sweatshirt and shoes and socks and everything and I was still cold.

So Padres?!?!? You’ve got a lot of making up to do.

I didn’t even get to have garlic fries.

MM

Dear Family Guy

14 Apr

Dear Family Guy,

I haven’t watched you in a while, and then I was like, oh Family Guy is funny! I like watching Family Guy. Why am I not watching Family Guy?  So then I did last night, and there was a joke about hitting your wife and one about avoiding/ignoring your family when the world is ending in favor of doing anything else and one about lying to your best friend/cheating with his wife and one about how black people will “respect” you if you shout the n-word in their neighborhood.

You weren’t very funny.

MM

Dear Half & Half

13 Apr

Dear Half & Half,

First of all, how funny is your name? It’s like those law firms that are called “Brooks, Brooks, and Brooks.” I mean, seriously? How necessary is that? Couldn’t you just call it “Nepotism Inc”?

Also, somebody once tried to convince me that you are made up of half heavy cream and half water.  That is disgusting.  Also it’s not true.  You are, more logically, half cream and half milk.  Now, curiously enough, when we Americans say, “I take cream in my coffee”– we actually mean half  & half.  And not just the cream half. Being a liquid, that’d be rather hard to separate out.  It’s also a very specific colloquial use of the word “take”…but we won’t get into that.

Instead, I’d like to thank you.  You are approximately “half” of what makes my morning coffee so delectable, so delightful, so soul-inspiring.  The other halves being the caffeine, the coffee, the sugar, the warm mug, the smell, the ritual…

Having milk in my coffee makes me sad.  The color of my coffee becomes more dirty snow on the sidewalk in March and less chocolate, the texture more dirt runoff than warm melted caramel…having no sort of dairy in my coffee usually results in tears and continual unhappy faces like a ten year-old choking down vegetables.

(Give me a latte with whole milk and I’m pretty sure there won’t be wars anymore.)

So, half & half (why don’t we have a real name for you?!?), thank you for easing me into each day.

Bless,

MM

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