An Open Letter to the State of Arizona

An Open Letter to the State of Arizona

Dear Arizona:


What the crap? Why are you exempt from Daylight Saving Time? That is so unfair, State of Arizona. I, for one, am not a happy camper. This business of springing forward, falling back, hopping sideways, and skipping in circles is getting a little frigging old. And I will be hating my alarm clock with that little bit of extra fervor come Sunday. But you, Arizona? You’ll be happy as a clam, secure in the knowledge that 8 AM is still 8 AM and all is right with the world. Except for the part of the world that is springing forward! Lame!


Totally jealous of you,


Heather
Oklahoma, USA


cc: Hawaii

An Open Letter to the Remote Control

An Open Letter to the Remote Control


Dear Remote Control:


Where are you? I'm tired of your little games. I know you're not in the couch cushions; I already checked there.

Show yourself.


Regards,

Heather

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 the "Home" Key on My Keyboard

An Open Letter to the "Home" Key on My Keyboard


Dear "Home" Key:

How come you don't work? I have pressed you several times this morning yet here at work I remain. You suck.

Warmest regards,

Heather

P.S. Maybe I should invest in a Ruby Slippers Button.

An Open Letter to the Dudes in the House

An Open Letter to the Dudes in the House

Dear Fellas:

What is the deal with the hitting on me when I'm at my worst thing? I can be a sweaty, dirty, unwashed mess in a sloppy t-shirt and baggy yoga pants and you pick this time to flirt with me? I run to the Home Depot in the middle of a home improvement project or I schlep into PetSmart covered in dog fur to get Snuggles' nails ground down and apparently my ungroomed appearance translates to "Please check me out." I just don't get it. Why not when I'm all dolled up in a dress and red lipstick and all that crap? I have polled some male friends to figure out this phenomenon and I still don't understand. Don't get me wrong. It's flattering and all but it's just that..., seriously what the crap?

Please. Enlighten me.

Thanks,

Heather

cc: All mah grrrrrrrrls in the house... does this happen to you, too???

An Open Letter to openletterblog.blogspot.com

An Open Letter to openletterblog.blogspot.com


Dear openletterblog.blogspot.com:

You were set up 4 years ago by this Sean Williams guy and there's been nothing done with you, save for a "test" post. Why do you exist? Just to taunt us? Since we didn't secure your domain name first? Not only that but your owner, Mr. Williams, also had to take up openlettersblog.blogspot.com, too? And do nothing with it either?

What gives?

Sincerely,

Heather



cc:

"Eric Simpson" at openletters.blogspot.com (one entry in 2001)
"Jason" at openletter.blogspot.com (not updated since 2002)

An Open Letter To Spring

Dear Spring,

Where the hell are you?! Maybe you've graced other parts of the country with your presence, but not Illinois. It's the end of April and I still have my electric blanket on my bed. How messed up is that? You teased all of us in March with a few nice days and even the beginning of the month was nice. I moved all my plants out to my balcony. Well, guess what? THEY'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD NOW!
I know what you're up to, Spring. You did this to us last year, too. You got lazy, probably started drinking again and you forgot to do your job. One day it was winter and the next it was 90 degrees. Yeah, that's right, we went straight into summer. I swear on all the is holy & pure that you better get your godamn act together and not pull this shit twice in a row. I want sunny, mid-70's weather pronto. I am still WAY to pale to rock out shorts yet.

Don't Make Me Hurt You,
Brooke Amanda

An Open Letter to Dust

An Open Letter to Dust


Dear Dust:

Where the heck do you come from? Seriously. What's your deal?

Thanks in advance for any information you might be able to provide,

Me

An Open Letter to LOST

An Open Letter to LOST

Dear Favoritest Show Ever:

It really isn't necessary for you to do a recap show every 3 weeks. Please air more actual episodes. Thanks in advance.

All my love,

Heather

An Open Letter to Inspector No. 84

An Open Letter to Inspector No. 84

Dear Inspector No. 84:

I found your little inspection sticker on my underpants. I just wanted to say, thank you for inspecting my underpants. That was really nice of you. Also, I was just curious… do you have a badge or a license or something? Because I bet you could get a lot of girls that way. Telling them you’re an Official Underpants Inspector. Girls love classy stuff like that.

Thanks again,

Heather

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

An Open Letter to My Eyebrows

An Open Letter to My Eyebrows

Dear Eyebrows:

Why is it that every time I pluck you, you just insist on coming back? I would think that you would take the hint eventually. I guess not, though. So, let me be blunt. You aren’t wanted here.

Thanks in advance,

Heather