Dear Greg (if that is, indeed, your real name),
I, perhaps more than anyone, know about your inability to take advice or criticism from somebody other than yourself. Thus, there is nobody better suited for writing you this open letter than me. Why an open letter? Because I am well aware of your need for external validation. By addressing your shortcomings and character flaws publicly, I greatly increase the chances of you making a concerted effort to be less of a schmuck going forward.
Be warned; this letter will likely be painful for you to read — perhaps even more painful than it has been for me to write. Please don’t think me a masochist. You must know nobody wants you to succeed more than I do. However, you have been going about your life all wrong up to this point, and it’s...
Lifestyle
Dear Jerry Seinfeld,
I heard you on ESPN radio the other day. You were talking to Colin Cowherd about how you write jokes, where you like to perform and how much you love Colin Cowherd. I have to be honest, Jerry, you two were losing me until Colin broached the subject of political correctness and comedy. He asked you if the epidemic of PC millennials on college campuses hurts comedy, and thankfully, Jerry, you said yes.
As a recent college graduate who loves comedy and will do anything to save it, I’ve had it up to here with my peers and their stringent strides to be decent human beings.
You said they don’t understand what words like “racist,” “sexist” and “prejudice” mean, and I’m telling you, Jerry, it’s like they didn’t even go to college. Like you said, “they just want to use...
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Dear HR Manager,
After graduating with a double major from an acclaimed university where I juggled a schedule full of extracurriculars and internships, I am still on the job hunt one month later. There hasn’t been a single job listing that has made me say, “This is my dream career” –until I found the entry-level opening at your company.
Reading through the description of your ideal candidate only confirmed that this couldn’t be a more perfect position. Detail-oriented – Check, that’s me. Excellent communication and writing skills –double check: my major had me writing and presenting 4 papers a month. Creative problem-solver with an ability to work well under pressure–I mean, is this my life in a listing?
Then I got to the qualifications section: “Must have 2 or more years of experience...
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Hello, Ian.
I guess we knew this day was coming for a while now—although the two of you have been engaged for less than a year, it was pretty clear from the first conversation I had with Laura after her date with “the opera singer” that you’d be sticking around. And perhaps your knowledge of me did not come as soon as that first date, but now, after years and years of visits, and phone calls, and Facebook bantering, well, I’m sure you’ve resolved I’m probably here for the long haul, too.
So here we are.
Being that you and I are also entering into a life-long commitment together by proxy, I feel it’s only fair, in the interest of full disclosure, to tell you a few things that might have been left out in my and Parr’s stories of the glory days—maybe a few of the more explicit...
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J,
I know that you’re probably going to wish that I had talked to you before I decided to post this in such an open forum. I know that this is the sort of thing you’d prefer me say over coffee while sitting at your kitchen island, because it’s about me and you and your kid, and I generally agree that those are conversations that should be kept pretty close to the vest. The thing is, though, and I’m sure you won’t fault me this, when your best friend does this really incredible thing and you’re bursting with pride, you pretty much want the whole world to know. It’s times like this that I wish I had access to a megaphone and a mountaintop or the White House press corps or Oprah, because Lord knows that lady can get a message to scatter the globe. But since I don’t have access to any...
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Dear friend,
I want to take you back 20 years, to when I am thirteen years old.
I am a pastor’s kid standing in a hospital room with clumps of hair in my hand.
My nails are splintered, and you can see the outline of my braces through my cheeks.
I weigh sixty pounds.
The room smells like Lysol. Nurses say I’m dying.
I was brushing my hair when it started to fall, and I tried to catch all the falling pieces and put them back on my head.
Today I ate for the first time in four years — truly ate, everything on my plate, everything they put before me — because even though I still don’t think I have anorexia, I know this isn’t normal.
To be purple from hypothermia and unable to run or lift objects, and to have your friends cry when they see you. This is not normal.
It...
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Dear Madeline,
It has take a while for me to even put something into writing expressing how I have felt since you left for China. I know this is not permanent, I know we are only one click of a button or Facebook message apart but through electronics you have never felt further away.
It's kind of funny, we both seem to have been blessed with wandering feet and wandering minds, I know now how hard it was for you when I left to Germany. But even being on the travellers end, I still felt this insatiable sense of loneliness without you close to me.
Our friendship started mid way through High School which I think, surprised both of us. It was a time where we both thought we had established ourselves in our separate lives with separate friends and separate childhoods but oh how wrong we...
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To my beautiful Momma,
I look forward with anticipation to Mother’s Day each and every year. Perhaps it’s because every Mother’s Day marks yet another year that God saw fit to bless me with you.
As I sat down to write this letter I was filled with all kinds of thoughts, but yet I still felt that I had nothing to say.
Your joy, kindness, integrity, and faithfulness (among other things) leave me speechless. I truly feel that there are no words to describe the gratitude that I feel for you on this day.
I want to thank you for the sacrificial love that you show daily to accommodate my desires and wants not to even mention my needs. I want to thank you for the hours that you spend waiting on me whether it’s while I am aimlessly wandering around Kate Spade or whether it’s waiting...
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Dear Everyone,
I can only imagine the unglamorous manner of my death. Perhaps I’ve suffered the consequences of considering myself an expert at orienteering after viewing a single instructional YouTube video (which, it should be noted, I watched while stalking ex-boyfriends on Facebook). Perhaps I drank from a stream that contained the remains of a dead goat, which caused some kind of putrefying goat illness characterized by lethal, bowel-rupturing diarrhea. Or maybe I’ve been captured by mountain people and am currently living in the hills somewhere, birthing twelve-fingered babies and learning the banjo. If this is the case, then I’m not lost at all, merely transfiguring myself into the next Stockholm superstar with an over-used vagina. One day I will emerge from the woods with my...
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Dear Freddie B,
The titles that the family comes up with for you go from 0 to 100 real quick, yet Freddie B seems to stick pretty well. The most important title that will never change is Dad, daddy, or Father. Listen, let me be honest with you hear. I would have never thought that we would have such a strong bond and that you would be my best friend today. Yet the moment I was born you knew I was going to be your girl. How? I’m not really sure I guess you can call it a dad thing. When I was younger, yes you stayed home with me while mom worked during the day. You would take me in the mornings with you to the barber shop to get your hair cut then off to McDonald’s for our breakfast time and then from there you took me to my dance class. Heck you even made sure my shoes matched my...
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