An Open Letter to My Dogs

An Open Letter to My Dogs

Dear Snuggles and Clover:

Good gravy, what in the world did you two eat? Are you even aware that your farts can penetrate Kevlar? The next time I need to sandblast something I'll just bottle some of your abominable flatulence. You have a permanent fog hovering around you like Pigpen from Peanuts. I no longer have any nose hair. Your farts can peel varnish and dissolve acid. True story, I once saw a pit bull fart make Chuck Norris cry. The smell is so bad my eyes are watering and my nose is running. And by "my nose is running" I mean, like, my nose literally jumped off my face and ran away in fear and revulsion. It went into the Witness Protection Program and now I'll never find it. The fallout is truly heinous. The blast radius is the width of a city block. I now have a new theory for what killed off the dinosaurs.

With nothing but love for you (but not your gas),

Heather

Our bad.

An Open Letter To Edy's

Dear Edy's,

I recently had occasion to purchase your Pumpkin flavored ice cream. It seemed like a sure bet. Here are the factors that caused me to believe I was making a good choice:

#1. I like ice cream
#2. I like pumpkin pie
#3. I like seasonally available treats, such as egg nog and Cadbury Creme Eggs

But my delight turned to disdain when I arrived home, removed the lid, and took my first tentative bites. (I don't believe in bowls--they only take away from the purity of the ice cream eating experience.) The first problem was the color. I was expecting something light brown, like the pumpkin pie filling I've always loved. Instead, I was assaulted with a strange peach-like hue completely inappropriate for the flavor. The second problem was the consistency. I expected it to be more like, I don't know, ice cream. Instead, I swirled my spoon around a thick, dry paste not unlike mashed circus peanuts. That it was cold was really the only thing that met my expectations. The flavor was in the ballpark--just close enough to make me wish I was actually eating pumpkin pie instead of your product.

Be the Avis of your industry, Edy's. Try harder.

Thanks,
Shawn

CC: Dreyer's

An Open Letter To My Pretentious Neighbor

Dear Pretentious Neighbor,

Well hello there, how are you? Every time I see you in the parking lot, which is often as our cars are parked next to each other, I smile and say “hi.” I feel it’s the neighborly thing to do. I don’t want to be your friend, I’m not going to invite you over for dinner and I’m sure as shit not going to knock on your door to borrow a cup of sugar. But a little civility between individuals who inhabit the same building is nice. Isn’t that what separates man from beast?

Apparently, you do not feel the same way. You’ve consistently ignored me for a year. Even if you’re on the phone, which you always are because I guess you’re just soooo important, a head nod would be nice. Ya know, act like you’re acknowledging my presence on this earth.

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why you are such a snob. We pay the same amount of rent for Christ’s sake! It’s not like you’re whooping it up in the penthouse and I’m some lowly basement dweller. In fact, I live above you, bitch! Is it because you drive an expensive sports car? Um, nope. Don’t get me wrong, your BEIGE Diamante is awesome and all, but my Neon could kick it’s ass. BEIGE is quite an interesting choice for a single guy. I saw you washing it by hand the other day for THREE HOURS and that made perfect sense seeing as how there’s a goddamn car wash right across the street from us. And… you didn’t wash any of the BEIGE off.

I’ve also noticed that you like to grill out. You do look like a stud with your mini grill and bag chair. Oh, and when you had people over the other night and all six of you stopped talking when I got out of my car and walked to the door, well, that didn’t make me feel awkward at all. You and your friends suck. They looked like Abercrombie-wearing, former frat boy, date-raping, micro-brew drinking pieces of shit. Just like you.

Oh, and one more thing. Since you’ve lived here for a year, could you please get your out-of-state license plates changed already! Oh, what? Too good to live in Illinois?! Fuck you.

I hope you get drunk and burn your eyebrows off with your mini grill,

Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Tostitos Scoops

Dear Tostitos Scoops,

I apologize for the tardiness of my letter, as I realize you’ve been on the market for the last few years. But as I’m sitting here tonight, enjoying my friend’s homemade salsa, I’m wondering how the hell anyone ever ate salsa (or any dips) before you came along?

I know that flat tortilla chips are still made, but I shudder to think what kind of child-molesting cretin would even bother with those flat bitches? Flatties don’t hold a candle to your voluptuous curves that envelope a dip like an old lover in a tender embrace. You not only hold my salsa with confidence, but you ensure that every last bit of it makes it to my mouth and not my shirt. Your shape reminds me of the cradle used to hold the blessed baby Jesus. And when food resembles a religious figure, you know it’s going to be delicious. God bless the person who created you! There’s a special place in heaven for this tortilla chip saint.

Keep On Scooping,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter to That Guy at the Grocery Store

Dear Guy,

That ice cream you keep mentioning to your wife? The one that incorporates chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry into one convenient container? Well, that ice cream was never the Emperor of France. That ice cream never fought in the Battle of Waterloo and it was never exiled to the island of St. Helena. It never did any of these things, so stop calling it Napoleon Ice Cream! That's...that's not what it's called.

Pleased to help,
Shawn

An Open Letter to Blockbuster

Dear Blockbuster,

I just came across the instruction book for Megaman 2 for the NES, a game I rented in the late fall of 1989. In case you were wondering, it's not the original instruction book; it appears to have been lovingly copied and stapled together by an employee of your store. Most of the text is clear, save for some cut-off sentences near the back and a red stain on page 8 that could be from a cherry popsicle. While I understand that you probably don't rent this game anymore, I thought maybe you might want the book back. Or perhaps the employee who copied it wants it for posterity's sake.

Let me know,
Shawn

An Open Letter to My Friend Janie

Dear Janie,

Look, I understand. We've all let ourselves go at some point in our lives. We stop watching every little thing we eat and it winds up catching up with us. Perfectly normal.

That said, I feel like I have to intervene. Sweetie, you're getting really fat. I started noticing it a few months ago, probably before anyone else did. Just a very slight hump where there used to be a flat belly. Not a big deal, but I was concerned. But then it just continued to grow, like a mutant watermelon. I've even noticed that you've started wearing looser clothes to compensate. Sad, really. But what's sadder is the way you've seemingly embraced your newfound obesity. You almost seem proud of it!

Normally, I wouldn't say anything. You're my friend whether you're as skinny as a runway model or as big as a house. But it's not healthy to blow up as quickly as you have. The others won't tell you the truth. They seem amused by it, running up to feel your belly like you're the second coming of Buddha. They're enablers, but I can't stand idly by.

The thing is, you know I'm right. I noticed that you've even packed a "hospital bag". Clearly you're aware of the impact your quick weight gain has had on your heart and have simply resigned yourself to your upcoming coronary. I urge you to reconsider, Janie. It's not too late to get on a diet plan and return to your former glory.

With concern,
Shawn

P.S. What does your husband Jeff have to say about this? And why did I see him buying cigars the other day? Are you both trying to ruin your health as quickly as possible??

Open Letter to Zen Office Guy

Open Letter to Zen Office Guy


Dear Zen Office Guy,

While your office may provide you with a tranquil place to retreat to while at work, it is messing me all up. Consider someone other than yourself dude. Im sure that your (not one but TWO) trickling, gurgling, fountains relax you. Thats wonderful, really it is. The problem is that when you are not in your office (which is a great deal of the time) you leave your door open and the fountains on, which means when I walk by your office, I always feel like I have to pee. So, thanks for that.

Im sure that keeping your over head lights in you office off makes you feel at one with whatever,and that the soft lamp glow gives you the ambiance you desire. However, Im already tired when I come to work, and as the day progresses, I get more sleepy, so your office darkness is torture. AND that soft asian music? It doesnt help either. It makes me want some Chicken Sub Gum and hot tea BEFORE I nap.

Constantly peeing, wanting chinese food, and desiring a nap are not condusive to a productive work day. Its no wonder that you get NOTHING done, and that people are always complaining about your lack of progress.....you are TOO RELAXED.

Do no be surprised if after a hard day (my hard day, not yours), you find me in the middle of your office floor in the lotus position (or whatever the meditation position is called)....you kind of asked for it.

Sincerly,
the Classic Rock Blaring Office Girl.

(by Obladi Oblada)

An Open Letter to Jack Bauer

An Open Letter to Jack Bauer



Dear Agent Bauer:

What's up with that ridiculous loud whispering-repeating-everything thing? When you're sitting at the dinner table and you need the mashed potatoes from the other side of the table, do you do this?

[loud whisper] "Please pass the mashed potatoes. I repeat... please pass the mashed potatoes!

[then crazy gravelly yell] "Son-of-a-bitch! I spilled the gravy. Chloe, I need you on com! Send a chopper to my location with more gravy. I'm sending my GPS coordinates to your screen."


Also when are you going to figure out... there's always a mole working for the bad guy! I mean come on! How many seasons of the same plot devices and you haven't nailed this down yet?


Seriously, though, with nothing but love for ya,

Me




Related...


Dear Fox Network:


There are only so many terrorist and kidnapping plots that one man can foil whilst going "dark" but then eventually being commended by the President before it gets kiiiiiinda boring. I officially cancelled "24" from my DVR. No hard feelings, k? It's been a good run, really it has.


Sincerely,

Me


P.S. I understand censorship and the need to keep things clean for primetime television and everything, but seriously... Jack Bauer is routinely tortured, almost dies, and basically loses or alienates everyone in his life while in the course of saving the country/world from impending doom. Do you honestly expect me to believe that the strongest language he uses is "Dammit!" or "Son-of-a-bitch!"? If I was an undercover drug runner hooked on heroin torturing the love of my life shortly after finding out the other love of my life was a Moley McMolerson and I had a nuclear warhead following me around like that little thundercloud follows Daffy Duck, I'd probably at least utter some of these: #@*****$@#!!! or oidthadfgxxxxxxxxxx!!!!!1 or even asdfsemicolon!!!!! I'm just sayin'...

An Open Letter To Kate Gosselin's Weave

Dear Kate Gosselin’s Weave,

Run! Run for your dear life! I know you must be thinking you hit the jackpot by landing on a reality TV star’s head, but you have just reached the threshold to hell.

This bitch is broke and she has 20 kids ready to pull at you and get bubble gum stuck in you. She is going to be too busy caring for her child army to give you the time and attention you need to look your best. You deserve top of the line hair care products and I just know she’ll try to use some Suave shit on you. And her taste in men is not the best. You’ll have to deal with douchebags running their fingers through you and sweating on you during “adult time.”

Do yourself a favor and pick up a pair of scissors and end this nonsense right now before it’s too late.

I will be praying for you,

Brooke Amanda

Read my other letter to Kate at "Babbling Brooke."

An Open Letter To Martha Stewart

Dear God, Martha. Seriously. While this lobster baby would be tasty, I'm sure, with some melted garlic butter and horseradish, it's still a lobster stuffed with live baby at the end of the day. Jesus Christ.

<3, JuliaD
homemadehilarity.com

Dear Weight-Watchers

Dear Weight Watchers:

I have tried your low-fat cheesecake. I generally approve. I just have to ask: how is your low fat cheesecake lowfat? Isn't, like, the number one ingredient in cheesecake, like cheesecake? I just don't understand. On the other hand, though, your low-fat cheesecakes are seriously half crumble base. Which isn't cheesecake. It's crumble base. Which is very different. Still tasty, but very different. Just to let you know. I could make low-fat twinkies by selling half a twinky on a Saltine cracker base. But it wouldn't be a half-fat twinkie. Well, I guess it would, literally, be a half-fat twinkie, but it would be a suckie half-fat twinkie. Well, it would be a half twinkie with a saltine-cracker base. I guess my point is that it would suck. And your low-fat cheesecakes kinda suck. They're fine, really, but not exceptional. Just not exceptional. Just want you to know.

much love,
JuliaD
HomemadeHilarity.com

An Open Letter To Fiber One Bars

Dear Fiber One Bars,

Thank you for being truly delicious and making me have extremely satisfying poohs. If it weren't for your tasty little bars, I shudder to think how irregular I would be.

The Owner Of A Very Happy Colon,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter to the Kid at the Grocery Store

An Open Letter to the Kid at the Grocery Store



An Open Letter to the Kid at the Grocery Store that Bagged My Groceries [read: one tiny bottle of salad dressing] and When I Asked if You Could Help Me Carry It Out to My Car You Said "Sure!":

I was kidding.

Thanks, though.

Sincerely,

Heather Cherry

An Open Letter To Publix Supermarkets, Inc.

Dear Publix,

I write this letter with a heavy heart. For a long time, you've taken the strong lead when it comes to excellence in grocery, and I am proud to call you my favorite Florida supermarket. However, there is an issue I can no longer stand by and ignore.

Every time I purchase your ground beef, steaks, or pork chops, they go green and moldy within a single day of being in my pantry. Every time!

I've found myself forced to eat any such meats immediately upon returning home, leaving me with a situation where I am painfully full for one day, and then starving for the next six. I don't expect your meats to last forever, but I think they should be good for at least a few days, don't you agree?

Thinking of going to Piggly Wiggly,
Shawn

An Open Letter To Memorial Day

Dear Memorial Day,

Why do have ALWAYS have to be rainy and cold?! It never fails...the day before you will be gorgeous and I'm lulled into a false sense of security. "Maybe this year will be different. Maybe I'll grill out or lay by the pool." Then, I wake up to the sound of rain falling and my dreams of a nice day off have been dashed. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me thirty years in a row, shame on me. Next year, I will NOT get my hopes up.

Sitting Inside Watching Crappy TV Shows,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter to the Doctor in the House


Dear Doc:

I have been eating these mini-bags of buttered popcorn from a box at the back of my pantry for weeks now. I just now saw that the bags are imprinted with the following: "Best by February 2009."

Am I going to die?

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Heather

An Open Letter To Sam's Club

Holy shit! I just had the pleasure of being inside you for the first time tonight...and not in a dirty way. I was mesmerized by all your ginormous goods. Am I EVER going to eat a 30 pack of frozen turkey burgers? No, but it was only $8! If I had more room in my apartment, I would have bought the 50 pack of toilet paper, too.

And you don't just have food...I saw packs of grannie panties, swimwear, plants, furniture, books, movies...the list is endless. Families were eating in your food court. YOU HAVE A FOOD COURT! I could live in you and never want for anything again. If I could afford a $25 a month membership to you, I would sign up in a heartbeat.

Alas, I am not a member, so I don't know when I will grace you with my presence again. Hopefully sooner than later.

I miss you already,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Dunkin' Donuts

Dear Dunkin' Donuts,

First off, let me congratulate you on making a coffee that is so highly addictive, I would be scared to drink it while pregnant for fear my children will be low birth weight and go through withdrawls. But the real reason I'm writing this letter is to nominate your employee, Gene, for "Employee of The Month." Gene works the drive-thru window at my local Dunkin' Donuts and can recognize my voice instantly. That means either he has a really good ear, or I go to your establishment way too fucking much.
Our exchange every morning goes something like this:
Gene: "Welcome to Dunkin' Donuts. May I take your order?"
Me: "Yes, I'd like a large coffee with cream and sugar, please."
Gene: "And a ham, egg, and cheese on an English muffin?"
Me: "Yes, please." I don't have the heart to special order it because I haven't eaten pork since I was 14. I just don't want to ruin our banter. I throw the ham away when I get to work. Plus, I kind of like the hammy flavor it leaves.
Gene: "Okay Brooke. See you at the window."
It's like he knows my soul! What a phenomenal guy! On a side note, I have no idea what ethnicity Gene is. Maybe Filipino? He has a definite accent and an interesting look that I just can't place. And I highly doubt Gene is his real name. I'm sure he had to Americanize it for "the man" and I think that shows a great team spirit as well. He could be the manager someday! Gene is a definite keeper and I would promote him through the Dunkin' Donuts ranks as quickly as possible. Maybe he could even star in your next commercial. Just a thought.

Keep making your crack coffee,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Girl Scout Cookies

Dear Girl Scout Cookies,

Why are you so goddamn delicious? I think you are made with equal parts crack, puppies, and baby smell because all those things are awesome AND highly addictive. And I hate you for that. Just a handful of your scrumptiousness has more calories than a Thanksgiving meal with all the trimmings. How is that even possible? I know that every spring, you send out your little army of green sashed bitches to tug at my heart-strings and make me buy more boxes than a single girl could ever need. Oh, just freeze us and save us for later you say. NO! I want to eat you box by box in some Romanesque orgy fashion. I want to gorge on you until I am sick and ready to puke. Having a box in my house that hasn't been eaten yet is like a sex addict having a porn in the DVD player and trying not to watch it. IT CAN'T BE DONE!
I also have a bone to pick with you reguarding your recent name changes. Why are Samoa's now called Carmel De-Lites and Tag-A-Longs now called Peanut Butter Patties? I liked the old names. And what happened to the original Girl Scout Shortbread Cookie that was shaped like a Girl Scout's head? Did some Debbie Downer decide it was too morbid to eat a Girl Scout's head? I never liked them anyway, but it's still the principle of the matter. I like tradition. You show a box of them on your website, but they were nowhere to be found on the order form I filled out. Maybe you should look into that and consider bringing all the old stuff back. Don't worry, you could call your cookies "Nut Sack Sweat" and I would still eat them. I love you. I'll be seeing you next spring.

A former Brownie,
Shopgirl101