Archive | Hate Mail RSS feed for this section

It’s spring break.

25 Mar

You can tell because there’s a bunch of teenagers loitering on the street corners in my neighborhood, doing fist bumps and other gang signs and listening to that rap music. 



Dear Arcane Work Attire Rules

28 Oct

Dear Arcane Work Attire Rules,

Did you guys know that most hotels require their female employees to wear pantyhose? At all times? Including under their pants?


This isn’t some rule like, “skirts of an appropriate length,” or even “elbows must be covered.”

Also Disneyland. And Disneyworld. Full skirts, full jackets, pantyhose under the pants.

Are their bosses encouraged to check? “Let me just pinch this thigh here and see if I can snap it outward…Nope? That’s flesh? Ouch, that must’ve hurt. Well, into the punishment coat room with you!”

Hotels, Disneyland, and Disneyworld: tourist spots, Southern California, and Florida. Hot, hot, and Florida.

I’ve been following Kate Middleton’s fashion, you guys, and they even let her wear pants sometimes. You know, just pants. I mean, I guess the photographs don’t really show that stretchy, oppressively tight nude shimmer beneath her clothes…but you can usually tell if you look at the feet. Skin’s just not that shiny. It doesn’t catch light in that way. It’s sort of like R. Pattz on a cloudy vs. a sunny day.

Men apparently are allowed to wear socks with their pants. This is because men’s legs, when covered by fabric, are appropriate for public and considered what we call “family-friendly.” Women’s legs are just so DAMN SEXY that they need the force-field strength repellent of nude pantyhose to keep them from going full Jessica Rabbit.

Plus the “control top” really helps smooth out those unsightly womanly curves that come from having a womb.


PS— Pantyhose. under. pants.

PPS– When I was writing this, I kept typing “pantyhouse.” But that’s a whole different thing. It’s a lot sexier, probably.

Dear Flies

10 Jun

Dear Flies,

If you’re so evolved — and by that I mean clearly you will survive the apocalypse and you have an uncanny ability to escape our attempts to capture you or keep you from landing on our food–


Can’t you smell or see or something that would allow you to find fresh air?

Seriously. I mean, seriously.


Dear Girl Who Had a Long and Detailed Conversation About Techniques for Fake Tanning in the Library

21 Apr

Dear Girl Who Had a Long and Detailed Conversation About Techniques for Fake Tanning in the Library,


no love,


Dear Failed Dinner

6 Apr

Dear Failed Dinner,

On Monday night I failed at making dinner. I had a recipe. I followed the recipe. I can’t explain it. I’m pretty good at following instructions– scratch that, it’s one of my secret ninja skills, you should have seen me go in elementary school– and so I just don’t know.

Instead of a nice, golden, toasted top and bubbling chard gratin, I ended up with sawdust and wilty greens. I ate frozen beef tamales from Trader Joe’s instead.

They were good. But it was stupid.

Someone asked me what went wrong, and I couldn’t tell him. Then he asked why I have so much analysis pertaining to my relationships and none at all having to do with why my dinner failed. This is a matter I am now giving serious consideration to.

In the meantime, I hate chard. We’re broken up, and I do not wish him happiness, and I sought solace last night with roasted lemon creme fraiche chicken and it was SO GOOD. YOU HEAR THAT, CHARD? YEAH.

You’re probably feeling super bitter right now. Hell, you’re green with envy. Not my fault you wilt with pressure (cooking).

…You can go boil your stem.



%d bloggers like this: