Dear Phish,
You are seriously rock stars. Thank you for two amazing shows.
With admiration,
No Longer a Phish Show Rookie.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear Phish Phans,
Thank you for offering so many drugs – it was nice, really. I actually felt bad turning you down. Thank you for being more entertaining than the band. I have never seen such crazy dancers, such hilarious costumes, or people eating (smoking takes too long?) pot. You are one of a kind.
All my love,
Highly Amused but Slightly Scared.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear Self,
Four shots of espresso and very little sleep was a bad idea. And hardly running since I ran that 10K? No good.
Ooops,
Ready to Crash.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
My Dearest Michael,
You are turning 29 in a mere two weeks. I have no idea what I’ll be getting you for your birthday at a time when neither of us are getting paychecks, we just went on three trips, and rent is still due.
Crap,
Your Wife Who Has No Foresight in Planning.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear United States,
I have seen 18 of you this summer. You are all fairly unique in your own ways, but I’m quite content in Cleveland for now. And ready to have some time to actually be in my new house.
Exhausted,
A Faithful Citizen.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear Etsy Shop,
Remember me? You may have though I forgot about you – but after my various traveling this summer, I’m ready to settle back in front of my sewing machine and whip up some fun. Oh, and check out your little sale section and new earrings. See? I didn’t TOTALLY neglect you.
Love always,
Joyful Star
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear New Job,
I do not get a paycheck until September!? What is this madness? If I didn’t think we’re going along swimmingly, I might just kick you in the shins for that.
Peace out,
Your #1 Fan.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hey Chicago,
You are a fun city. Perhaps my favorite big city in the US. I love how humble and Midwestern you are, but completely awesome and fun. Your Thai food, though? Doesn’t hold a flame to my favorite. Mmm. Massaman curry.
Happily,
A Girl Who Kinda Wants to Live There.
PS: Thank you for MegaBus. Five dollar tickets ROCK.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Lovely, Glorious Summer,
You are so sweet. Please never leave me. I’m quite attached to you and the flip flops you allow me to wear. Don’t go.
Xoxo,
Your Lover.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear Mice,
Get the heck out of my house. I hate you. Stop eating my food and pooping on my counters. GO AWAY. You creep me out and make me think I have the Hantavirus. And if you don’t leave? Don’t worry, I think you’ll get along perfectly with my parents’ cat.
(I’m sorry it has to be this way. I wish we could get along like Cinderella and her mice did, but I have a sore throat and now I’m all paranoid you diseased me. So, just leave. Or you’ll have to die. And no one wants that.)
Best of luck and hope there is a mouse heaven,
The REAL Inhabitants of the Downstairs Flat.
PS: I hear that for every one of you we see, there are twenty more in our house. We killed two and saw one. That means there are sixty? Gross. I beg you: LEAVE.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear Landlord,
How convenient that you included a “household pest” line in the lease. You’re not going to be much help, are you?
Bleh,
A Girl Who Doesn’t Want to See Mice in Her Home.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dear You,
Enter my contest. Last chance!
Love,
Me
Leave a Reply