An Open Letter To March

Dear March,

So this is how you’re going to play it, huh? Beautiful, sunny and 65 degrees one day, then frigid, snowing and 30 degrees the very next day. What the hell?! You’re such a little cocktease. Do I need to bust out my capris and sandals or stick to winter coats and boots?

I know you’re supposed to come in like a lion and out like a lamb, but starting off like a lamb and then flipping the script is NOT COOL. Not cool at all. Don’t make me start to hate you more than I already hate February because, trust me, you don’t want that kind of wrath coming down on you full-force.

All this back-and-forth with Mother Nature has got me in a very pissy mood. If you two could possibly reach a decision within the next couple of days to, ya know, maybe make the next few weeks sunny with moderate temps that would be just fabulous. I know everyone in Illinois would thank you from the bottom of our warmth-deprived hearts.

Waiting patiently for some nice weather,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Mike Myers

Dear Mike Myers,

It’s getting to be that time of year again! Halloween is only a couple weeks away. Damn, you’re probably exhausted from decades of murdering helpless victims all over Haddonfield, IL. You must be well into your 60’s by now and I was just curious…are you going to retire soon? I saw in your last film what I thought to be signs of arthritis in your right hand. Something about the way you were holding the ax while decapitating your latest victim just didn’t look right. Since your twilight years are upon you, I would like to extend an invitation to be your retirement life coach!

I know you’re probably thinking, “What the hell am I going to do if I retire? What does an ex-psycho, ax murdering killer have to offer the world?” Don’t get down on yourself, Mikey! There are plenty of things you could do to pass the time. Have you ever thought about hitting the lecture circuit? I’m sure there are lots of aspiring serial killers out there who would love to learn the tricks of the trade! You could even partner up with Jason and Freddy and have a three-for-one deal. I know, I know…you’re horrible shy (hence the William Shatner mask), so public speaking may not be the best choice.

Some other great options would be knitting (but don’t even think about using the needles as a weapon!), basket weaving, square dancing, antiquing, painting…the list is really endless. I also STRONGLY urge you to write your memoirs. Since literacy isn’t really your thing, I would be more than happy to ghost write them for you. Just let me know a time and date when we can sit down together and brainstorm an outline. I KNOW your book would be a bestseller!

Good luck with everything this Halloween, as I really feel it will be your last one before you hang up your ax. Have fun and make it your best killing spree yet! I expect to see you on the news on November 1st, ha ha!

Best Wishes With The Murdering,
Brooke

An Open Letter To Courtney Cox

Dear Courtney Botox,

What the hell did you do to your face? When watching the season premiere of “Cougartown” last week, I actually gasped at how mask-like your face has become. Your forehead and eyes have gone totally Christopher Reeves on you and one would think the inability to move your face would really be a hindrance to an actress. Your lips are plumped to within an inch of their life and I feel tempted to stick a pin in them just to see if they’ll pop!

Here’s the thing, Courtney…WE ALL GET OLDER! It’s going to happen. Just go with it. No one expects you to look the way you did on “Family Ties” or “Friends.” However, we do expect you to look like a human being. Fine lines and wrinkles are OKAY because real people acquire them as they get older. Please, stop fucking with your looks and lay off all the fillers, plumpers, nips and tucks. You don’t need them. Just look like the beautiful, 40-something woman that you are. You are dangerously close to looking like The Joker, so if I were you, I’d take this warning very seriously.

Oh, and one last thing. Can you make your character on “Cougartown” a smidge less whiney/needy?

Thanks,
Brooke Amanda

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 Taylor Swift

Dear Taylor Swift,

Let’s have a chat. You are one of the few young singers today who doesn’t make my ears explode when I hear one of your songs. You are a genuinely talented singer/songwriter/musician and on top of that, you seem like a really sweet girl. So why, why, why are you starting to hang around one of the biggest pieces of shit walking the earth right now?!

I just saw a picture of you and colossal dick worm, John Mayer, cozying up to one another the other night in Nashville. NOOOOOO! Taylor, do you not read any of his press?! He is a self-absorbed, narcissistic prick. He is TROUBLE with a capital Douche! He will take your good girl virginal ass and tear you up! By all accounts, he likes to come in through the back door and leave you with a golden shower…if you know what I mean.

SPRINT away from this dick worm as fast as you can and do not look back. Your mother should be throwing a chastity belt on your ass ASAP and taking you into the witness protection program for a while until he finds his next victim. I will be holding a candle light vigil in your honor tonight in the hopes you come out of all this still pure and unscathed.

Keep those legs crossed,

Brooke Amanda

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 The Woman Standing Behind Me At The Post Office

Dear Woman Standing Behind Me At The Post Office,

Wow, from listening to your phone conversation it sounds like your family is going through some really hard times. Why is your mom such a bitch? And why was she SO MEAN to Katherine the other night at dinner? I mean, all Kat did was make a simple joke about her beer and your mom flipped out! How does your father put up with her?!

And now I'm wondering why they can't just make up their mind about their anniversary next year. I think going on a cruise sounds fabulous! And like you told Kat, it's a big boat so you two won't have to put up with your mother the whole time, ha ha.

Oh, and by the way...I CAN HEAR YOU! The person in front of me can hear you. The person behind you can hear you. You are standing 5 inches away from me. You are not in an invisible phone booth. Some conversations need take place in the privacy of your own home. I mean, what would your mother think!

Stop Airing Your Dirty Laundry In Public,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Charlie Sheen

Dear Charlie,

Hey man, how’s it going? I’m guessing not well based on the fact you got your ass arrested and thrown in jail on Christmas for allegedly holding a knife to your wife’s throat and threatening to kill her. Ouch. I understand that your baby momma was legally drunk at 8:30 in the morning (CLASSY) and probably had it coming, but still… this is getting embarrassing.

Charlie, I think you just need to stop getting married and stop procreating. Do you really need to be populating the planet with your crazy genes?! You already had THREE kids by two previous women and you really felt the need to have twins with this crazy bitch, who by the way has my same name? Don’t think for a second I’m not pissed that Brooke Mueller is desecrating the name Brooke for all of us!

Why don’t you just concentrate on your acting career, which right now consists solely of “Two And A Half Men,” and help that kid who plays your nephew slim down the chunk because he is getting FAAAAT. Maybe help your dad, Martin, do some political stuff or help your brother, Emilio, find ANY sort of an acting role since I don’t think I’ve seen him on film since “The Mighty Ducks.” I know you can do it , Charlie! I have faith in you!

Stay Away From Those Crazy Bitches,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To The Idiot Who Almost Ran Into Me In The Mall Parking Lot

Dear Idiot Who Almost Ran Into Me In The Mall Parking Lot,

Do you see those bright yellow arrows on the cement? They indicate which way you can turn into the parking lanes. You CANNOT drive the wrong way or you will cause a head-on collision...like the one you almost caused tonight by going the wrong way, full speed ahead, then looking angrily at me like I was the one at fault. I hope someone totals your car. Merry f**king Christmas, dickworm!

You are a shitty driver,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Shawn & Heather

Dear Shawn & Heather,

Where the hell are you guys?! I'm seriously thinking of hiring a David Addison/Maddie Hayes type PI team to find your whereabouts. Shark Tank hasn't posted in over an month now and Heather Cherry is right behind him. Julia, do you know where our missing authors are at? Seriously, I can't write this blog by myself! I have two other blogs to write!

Hope everything is okay,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Scarlett Johansson

Dear ScarJo,

You can quit trying to be a singer anytime now. Seriously, you're not very good at it. On a sidenote, your husband is hot. Just thought I'd throw that in there.

Please Stick To Acting,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To The Geek Squad

Dear Geek Squad,

Thanks for taking THREE weeks to fix my computer. I probably could have figured out how to repair it in that amount of time. Oh, and thanks for NOT calling me to tell me it was ready to pick up. Awesome, awesome job guys. Do any of you EVER get laid? Just wondering.

F**k You All,

Brooke Amanda

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 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 John Mayer

Dear John Mayer,

You are a COMPLETE DOUCHE!

Just wanted to let you know,
Shopgirl101

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 My Parakeets

Dear Sonny & Cher,

Please stop staring at me and play with your damn toys already! I spent a butt-ton of money on various colorful, wooden, hangy-things for your pimped-out cage and do you two appreciate them? No! All you do is sit on your perch and preen each other. I'm over it. If you don't start ringing the bell soon, I'm going to have to separate you. Oh, and eat the veggies I put in your seed bowl...they're good for you.

Just trying to be a good mom,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Kate Gosling

Dear Kate,

Girl, looks like your man, John, has gone astray. I'm sooo shocked by this news, seeing as how having eight children must not be stressful to a marriage whatsoever. And the fact that they're all the same age must make it even easier on you two. I'm sure potty training a gaggle of toddlers was super fun! Oh, and the fact that you act like an uber-bitch 99% of the time must give ol' Johnny Boy an instant erection.

Don't get me wrong, I would probably have permanent PMS, too, if I was in your position. But why don't you try dialing down the whole "emasculating ball & chain thing" and see how that goes. Maybe take a day off from screaming orders at him every once in a while, 'cause I don't know too many men in the market for a single mom with eight kids, if you know what I mean.

Just trying to be helpful,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter To Funky Facts

Dear Funky Facts,

Stop going around giving me and my blogging posse frownie faces on Humor-Blogs.com. Since you're only 17 years old, I'll be nice because MAYBE you don't realize how this whole blogging thing works. First of all, if you want people to read your blog (and in case you didn't know, 99% of people who read blogs are your fellow bloggers) you need to create a postive relationship with us. Which means, you DO NOT give frownie faces to blog posts that are actually very funny. If you don't like them, just don't do anything...it's that simple. But don't be a douche and give a frownie face because that actually deducts point from a post. This is your warning...trust me, you don't want me to sic my blogging bitch Queenie on you. I'm pretty sure she makes grown men cry and would make you shit yourself. So...just stop what you're doing and we'll be cool, kepeesh?

Don't Be A Dick,
Brooke Amanda