Thirteen Open Letters I Need to Sit Down And Write
To: The Guy Who Sat Behind Me Last Saturday Night at The Detroit Symphony Concert:
Subject: Get Your Nasty Shoes off the Top of the Seat in Front of You Which Happens to be Two Inches from My Head
Because if I really wanted to smell your nasty rubber soles, I would have lain on the sidewalk outside of Orchestra Hall and had you walk on my face.
To: Cellphone Girl in the Stairwell
Subject: You Were Close
Although you get props for taking your call outside, however, unless you're The Lincoln Memorial, you, your laptop, your frappaccino, your bagel with cream cheese and your cell phone conversation about last night's kegger aren't important enough to hog an entire flight of stairs, making it impossible for me to go home.
Subject: Enough, Already
Wind. Rain. Snow. Please stop with the horrible, horizontal weather. I mean, really. It blows. Too hard.
To: The Lady Working at McDonald's
Subject: We Weren't Drunk. We Were Just Really, Really Tired
I know you get all kinds. Especially on a Saturday night. But when GramTuna and I burst into a fit of hysterical laughter when you said there would be a wait on the chicken nuggets, it wasn't because we were drunk. We were just really tired and hungry and hoped our chickens would transmigrate a little faster.
I really do like the name Fred, don't you?
To: My Minister
Subject: The Folly of Episcopal Optimism
You'd think with all the church aerobics we do every week (Stand-Sit-Kneel Lather-Rinse-Repeat) we'd be good at ecclesiastical movement. Problem is, we cannot do anything on the fly, especially if it involves leaving OUR OWN PEW and going anyplace other than the Communion rail, Coffee Hour or Brunch. I was worried we wouldn't break our Palm Sunday processional bottleneck before happy hour.
To: Charla (Amazing Race) and Michelle (Survivor)
Because people falling down on reality shows are funny.
Really, Really Funny.
To: The Cats
I don't suppose it would do me any good to kindly ask that you save the Kitty Big Time Wrestling Smackdown for hours OTHER than midnight to 6am.
To: The Family Sitting Next to Me In The Detroit Airport
Subject: Things I Didn't Need to Know
I didn't need to know how fast you make matzah balls (11 in 9 minutes). I didn't need to know the details of your dinner party. I didn't need to know your wife REALLY wanted to bring macaroons, because she must have mentioned it 25 times while you were making plans ON YOUR CELL PHONE SO EVERYONE COULD HEAR. I didn't need to know your kid must have drunk a case of Red Bull because all he did was bounce on the seat, which made all the seats in the row bounce because they were connected. But then again, maybe you didn't know this because you were so busy TALKING ON YOUR CELL PHONE SO EVERYONE COULD HEAR.
Subject: Throw Another Log on the HellFire
Thanks YouTube. After laughing over these, I have no doubt that I'll be the toastiest Tuna in the afterlife.
Now it's time for me to tell you all what you've done wrong since I last saw you.
What in the Name of Me is Going On Here?
To: Herman Munster
Subject: I love you
Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you
To: Chocolate Peeps
Subject: Chocolate Peeps
You know, I could go with Peep Pumpkins, and Peep Valentine Hearts, Bunny Peeps and Chick Peeps in Pink, Yellow and (new) Green. But now there are chocolate peeps, and I'm sorry, but if Chocolate Peeps haven't jumped the shark, they've surely at least crossed the line..
Subject: My Bad
Sorry I was such an idiot last week and spent over an hour looking for a Palm Sunday song under the wrong title. I suppose though, if you had been in Calgary (what I was looking for) instead of Calvary (what I should have been looking for), things might have turned out a little differently, eh?
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