Dear Alcohol,
Thanks a lot. Last night I dreamt I was a telemarketer again. Selling virtual sex acts to middle-class people of every race and sex. Over the phone. Thanks a lot.
And apparently in the dream, I’d been fired from this job before. Recently. However, call volume was irregularly high and vice versa. So they took me back. Tentatively.
On the computer screen was a huge panel of buttons, each one an audio sex-act recording of a hot woman doing it. For example, top left was the sound of her kissing and moaning. The next one played the sound of licking various body parts. And each progressed from there until eventually you cycled through hand jobs, blow jobs, all out doing it, then finally the really weird ones involving animals and urination. My occupation was to click the...
Lifestyle
Dear Elephant in the Ikea-Furnished Room,
You’re really screwing up our feng shui. Don’t feel bad, that spot you’ve chosen between the Akurum and the Flytta has always been a tricky one. We’ve both remarked how surprised we are that you even fit. The Bekväm didn’t! Neither did the Domsjö, even before we installed the Prägel. I know it’s a small kitchen with a vexing infestation of grocery bags (Rationell! Where are you when we need you?!), but can’t you find a different place to perch? Like on top of the Lämplig or along that odd wall space by the Ingo? All we’re asking for is a more direct view of the Ektorp and maybe a little good chi upon the Förby.
Thanks and keep up the good work!
Yours,
Chloe Bland
2,256
Dear Attractive Coworker,
You and I lifeguard together at the university pool twice a week. You are two years younger than I am, but I am not altogether sure if that really matters at this point in our fledgling lives. You hail from Long Island, and everything you say is prefaced with the slang term “Yo.” I can’t help but wonder if your slightly trashy accent is feigned, if perhaps you think it makes you more appealing. But Attractive Coworker, you already are totally appealing. Your intense blue eyes and extremely feminine dark eyelashes lend you a mysterious gaze. And sure, you look stoned all the time, but it could just be that you suffer from dry, irritated eyes. You go surfing in your free time, which borders on sickeningly appropriate considering the “Beach Party Ken” appearance...
3,102
Dear Dr. Cohen,
Thank you for my Pap smear. It was truly an enlightening experience. To answer your questions, though—no, no I have never had sex before. Yes, really. Yes, I’m a virgin. Yes, I really am. No, no I’m not Catholic. Yes, I am twenty-one. Nope. Nope. Never had sex before. I really haven’t. Really. Yes, I’m serious. Thank you, I like to think I’m attractive. Yes, I have had one boyfriend. No, no he didn’t break up with me. I broke up with him. No, no I haven’t had a boyfriend in two years. Yes, I guess that is quite a while. Yes, I do put myself out there. No, I don’t think my standards in relationships are too high. No, no I don’t think I’m too hard on boys my age.
Yes. Virgin. I’m a virgin. Virgin virgin virgin virgin virgin.
VIRGIN.
Frigidly yours,
Lindsay Katai
2,705
Dear Unemployment,
Nearly 15 years have passed since our last forced pairing. I treated you so unfairly. You received no respect, no regard for your identity. Wardrobe shopping continued, $8-per-pound flavored coffees were brewed, comic-book and electronic-gadget collections expanded. I didn’t even inconvenience myself to cancel HBO.
More time was spent emptying my savings and charging up my credit card than helping you gracefully transition away from my life. You were kept hidden, tucked away in my briefcase with outdated resumés, half-completed job applications, marked-up classified ads, and check stubs from the unemployment office. You humiliated me.
But now you are threatening to visit again. Your approach is fast enough to generate panic, slow enough to foster apathy. Your...
2,197
Dear Unemployment,
Nearly 15 years have passed since our last forced pairing. I treated you so unfairly. You received no respect, no regard for your identity. Wardrobe shopping continued, $8-per-pound flavored coffees were brewed, comic-book and electronic-gadget collections expanded. I didn’t even inconvenience myself to cancel HBO.
More time was spent emptying my savings and charging up my credit card than helping you gracefully transition away from my life. You were kept hidden, tucked away in my briefcase with outdated resumés, half-completed job applications, marked-up classified ads, and check stubs from the unemployment office. You humiliated me.
But now you are threatening to visit again. Your approach is fast enough to generate panic, slow enough to foster apathy. Your...
2,401
I am writing this letter as an individual who is tired of our culture's obsession with youthfulness.
For too long I have seen young people glorified over others who are deemed "too old". This has always been most noticeable when it comes down to women. We see the types of Madonna labelled as past it (which is unfair) and then we have to witness her efforts to stay culturally relevant by exposing more flesh than any of us would wish to see...which was the case when she intentionally exposed her bum on a red carpet recently.
This disregard for 'older women' is also pretty evident in films and television too. With plenty of successful models coming forward and stating their distaste with the film industry and the lack of leading roles for women over 30. But this doesn't look like it's...
2,452
Dear Mr. Miller,
I’m thrilled to be writing you. How admirable that you started a company that eventually created the first cubicle—in the early 1960s, no less. What a frontiersman! After all these years, I continue to be delighted by your decision to create a labyrinth of interconnected workspaces. Unlike the 93 percent of all workers who would prefer to work in another space, I’m one of the proud who hope to be working in a cubicle for my entire life. People should really stop and think about how pretty they can make their cubicles.
Before I address the beauty of the cubicle, I’d like to take a moment to imagine the thought process you underwent when designing it. Forgive me if the process is not exactly accurate: “What can I do to revolutionize the American workforce? Think....
2,466
Dear Whoever Broke Into My Car This Morning,
Hello, oh pirate of the back streets, and congratulations on your new possessions. After noting what was missing from my car this morning, I thought that perhaps we could talk a bit about the new things that you own.
First of all, nice job finding that CD player in the console. Only a true professional would know to dig underneath the York Peppermint Patties and fast-food napkins. But you, you put your heart and soul into your job and went the extra mile and I really respect that. The bad news, my friend, is that the CD player is broken. Not just needs new batteries or needs to be opened up and blown into or needs to be taken into the shop. For a while, if I set it on my knee while I was driving, and if I moved it all around, and if the...
2,378
Dear Couple,
Sorry about that. I was drunk, not that I think that makes it OK or anything. I did think I would grab the panties as I left, rather than leave them under the tree like that. I hope you can understand that we were in a hurry, having only the amount of time one would reasonably assume it would take us to go around the block on a bicycle. I guess that would be about 10 minutes, which really isn’t enough time at all, even when you skip the kissing, which we did. Anyway, people were waiting for us, and for the bike, so there wasn’t time for cleaning things up afterward. Also, even if I’d found the underwear in the dark (and I would have liked to, because they fit well and didn’t dig into my fleshy parts, making me feel fat), my skirt didn’t have any pockets. I couldn’t very...
2,757