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Dear Meat
12394 Charles St.
La Plata MD, 20646


Dear Freckles,

I want to kiss you, and the boy you reside on. It’s been so long, and I think my heart would explode if I got the opportunity to do so. Please, bring him to my house so we can watch a movie and cuddle together. Maybe I can sneak in a smooch or two.

Hope to see you soon,

Eskimo Kisses

Dear One Year Ago,

I’m sorry I ever whined about you at the time. Don’t take it personally; I whine a lot. To be honest, things were perfect then. We were all excited about graduating & having fun together. It was one of those times I loved being a teenager. We were carefree & had time before we had to worry about splitting up for college. Senior picnics & parades & beach days & just loving ‘09! Then college came. I knew college would mess everything up for me. I was always scared of it. All my relationships were weakened. Everyone moved on to bigger & better things while I tried to hang on. And now it’s been a year & I feel left behind, like I’m still living last May, & everyone else got tired of it. I’d still like to thank you though, One Year Ago, for happening. You were wonderful & I’ll never forgot you. I just wish I could return to you & it would be the same.

Hangin’ on to ‘09

Dear Applebee’s,

First, I don’t really like you. Just want to get that out in the open. I think you’re inferior to Chile’s, Bennigan’s, TGI Friday’s… (and that’s without even branching out from the crazy-crap-on-the-walls chain restaurant category). Oh, I like Ruby Tuesday’s better too, but that’s just because of the salad bar.
But I write not to hate on you, Applebee’s. In fact, I really hope we can get along, considering that on weekdays you’re the only place in town that’s open after rehearsal. And those $3 Long Island’s you offer really aren’t too bad, though sometimes you go a little too heavy on the sour mix.  

To be honest, Applebee’s, I was a little touched to see that the big round booth in the corner, the one with all the local sports teams’ memorobilia on the walls, hadn’t changed since last summer. We had some good times in that booth, like the time rehearsal went long, and we got there just before last call and ordered like three drinks apiece.

Yes, the booth was the same, the drink specials and half-priced appetizers were just the way I remembered them, but something wasn’t quite right, and I think we both know what it was. 

What happened to the Vaguely Asian Sauce for the boneless wings? Forgive me for not being able to recall its exact name, but what I do recall was how well it complimented those fried balls of mostly-batter you call wings, and that it came with a wasabi-flavoured dipping sauce for the celery sticks that was also quite tasty. In fact, the only two things on the menu I have any desire to eat are Vaguely Asian Wings and the shrimp and spinach salad, which I can never actually get because you’re always out of shrimp by the time I arrive. Where does that leave me, Applebee’s?  

Hungry. And resentful. 

So, here’s how this is going to work. You bring back the Vaguely Asian Boneless Wings and I promise to stop unfavorably comparing you to The Ground Round. I’ll also, maybe, try to keep the other people in my party from loudly making obscene double-entendres, because even at 11:30 p.m., I know you’re a family restaurant. But they are actors, so I can’t promise anything. 

With Grudging Tolerance,
Kitty Pimms

P.S. You know what’s funny? You call yourself a “neighborhood bar and grill” but I have never once seen an Applebee’s anywhere that could be accurately described as a neighborhood. Perhaps you should consider replacing “neighborhood” with “strip mall” “just off the highway” or “office park,” for the sake of accuracy.

Dear Ocean,

Are you coming or going?
Stop being so damned asinine and decide, already.

Dear Ms. Heap,

My deepest thanks are yours for the show you performed on March 25th, in Melbourne Australia, which I attended. Your voice is an amazing instrument, and I am always astounded at the intricacies of your finely-crafted lyrics. I would have enjoyed nothing more than to stand there for 3 further hours and listened to anything you deigned to sing for me.

I was overjoyed to have my request for an instrumental in the key of A♭ honoured by you, and played for me on the spot; I was impressed once again with your mastery of the pianoforte.

Your cover of Tori Amos’ Cornflake Girl was nothing short of inspired, and a complete surprise. It was a highlight of the evening for me. There are not many artists I would trust with one of her pieces, but you handled it beautifully.

Your acoustic rendition of ‘Wait It Out’ brought tears to my eyes. It has been my favourite song these past 9 months, and I was deeply moved by the way you played it, and your soulful delivery of the melodies.

In short, my experience of your concert was completely captivating, and I was driven to the fervent use of expletives in my later attempts to describe it.

I will now proceed to the secondary reason for this letter.

You mentioned in passing, during one of your scintillating soliloquies between songs, that you find yourself currently in a close relationship with a man. You even went so far as to affectionately refer to him as your ‘boyfriend’.

Now, I am an understanding man, and my friends inform me that I have cultivated quite a broad sense of humour. I can assure you that I will take it all in stride if you tell me that this was a prank (an early April Fool’s, perhaps?), and that you are, in fact, still available for marriage. I can take a joke.

But holy crap, woman, THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE TRUE.

I have waited, like, 6 frikkin’ years for an opportunity to meet you in person and propose. And now, for some unfathomable reason I can only ascribe to the universe’s apparent hatred of me, I find myself pipped at the post by some unnamed and (I’m assuming) ill-mannered gold-digger of a good-for-nothing nobody. This is extremely… disconcerting.

Ah-hem. I beg your pardon for my outburst.

I am not sure that you have fully taken into your considerations the depth and sincerity of my love for you. You cannot have completely factored in my affection and endearment towards you, or you would not have so flippantly crushed my entire collection of dreams with your careless declaration.

I am a patient man, though. And I am perfectly happy to wait while you carefully extricate yourself from the misunderstanding this other man currently has with you, and will still welcome you back with open arms.

I will also understand if you need time to finish your world tour – and to get things sorted out and packed up back at your home in England – in preparation for your eventual flight and relocation to Melbourne, upon which happy day we will be married at the soonest opportunity.

As always, I am completely in love with everything about you. And in light of my revelations to you regarding my feelings on this matter, I await your reply at the earliest convenience.

I remain your greatest admirer (despite what that creep may have whispered to you over hot chocolates in Brighton coffee shops).


Dear Straight Girl

I wish you were gay and as in love with me as I am with you. Or at least, I wish you still talked to me.
I wish you well and happy times.
I wish I could get over you. It’s been over a year since I’ve known I have no chance.

I wish you knew.


Dear Dad

My world has changed since you left me. I’ve grown up from that kid who loved to play legos with you, and I’ve become something that I’m proud of. I know your watching me right now, as I am praying for you. I wish I could see your face one more time.
Your Son

dear girl who taps loudly at 3am,

i am an understanding and open-minded person, but it is hard for me to comprehend your actions. you regularly drum on your table in the early hours of the morning with what sounds like a pencil or a pen. it may even be two pens/a pen and pencil/two pencils, one for each hand. as you may or may not be aware, you drum incessantly on your table for an hour or more at a time. it is very loud. i don’t want to criticize but you also have no sense of rhythm, making it even more painful. i can only imagine what you are thinking while doing this. i don’t think you could be reading as your hands are not free. perhaps you are watching something each time, like a movie. if so you must have headphones on.

please could you keep still and not do this any more. it is one of the most annoying things ever. your singing is stupid too.

from, housemate

Dear Tory,

I miss you. You’re probably the pet that lasted the longest in our family, and to be honest, I think you would’ve lasted longer if my dad hadn’t set you free in the garden.

I don’t know where you are right now. Maybe you’re in hamster heaven. Maybe you’re under the pile of recyclable trash that somehow found their way from the kitchen table to that little corner behind the plants. Maybe you got eaten by Slasher, the cat we don’t officially own, but Dad and I like to say we do because she’s cute — although she’s not as cute as you. Wherever you are, I hope at the very least that you are with Terri, beating each other up like in the good old days, before you outlived her.

Dad bought me another hamster that looked like you, you know. We called him Velvet Killer, until he died two months later. After that, we just called him “Which Hamster? The Dead One.” No other hamster of ours lived as long as you, Tory, and for some reason, that makes me really happy. For your sake, I mean.

Someday, though, I wish I can own a pet that I’ll treasure as much as I did you.


Your owner

Dear College,

You’re the reason I drink.


dear katy perry

while i am usually a big fan of most anything California, being a native Californian and all, especially living so far away in Santiago and all and missing it and everything…but ive never really taken a liking to you. which is fine. because i like, dont know where youre from or anything, just like you have no idea what your style is, blue haired raver one day, sophisticated sailor the next. and while im all for chameleon antics, i just cant get behind it. 

your new song “california gurls” makes me want to die. is that what california is? i think someone already wrote that song. i was called “california girls” and it was by the beach boys. and it was much better. and having snoop drop on the tracks doesnt give you cred it just confuses his fans. and whats with the spelling error? was that because someone already wrote a song with that title or because youre trying to be edgy? riot gurrrls? 

you and miley should go “put your hands up” and have a party in the usa. this is rediculous.


this norcal GIRL

Dear Circumstances Beyond My Control

Make no mistake, I can handle whatever you dish out, I always have been able to, you know that. But it wouldn’t kill you to play nice every so often. You’re getting a bad rap around these parts.