Dear Karen F. Owens...

I gotta say, your Duke F@%K List has caused quite the stir.  Girl, if you're gonna put all your business out there, be prepared for the fallout.  Still, I have to admit, that was ONE entertaining read!  I laughed...it reminds me of the conversations I have (in private, mind you) with my girlfriends.

Couple things I find confusing:

How is it that with all the brew-ha-ha about the "Subjects" you go into detail describing, YOU haven't gotten much flack for being such a floozy!  I mean, c'mon! You slept with the entire team(s), practically.

Also, I gotta say, I was surprised to find that you're not that even that pretty!  And some of those guys were pretty hot.  Well, you did mention that most of them were under extreme alcohol-influence.  (this is not one of your best pictures, BTW)

In any case, you go girl...get yourself some...though I doubt you'll be welcomed back to Duke for homecoming any time soon...

PS - just in case you forgot what you put out there, here's a link to it (Duke F List)..drill down to the "document in full" section for the whole shabang!  Enjoy! (oh and if you're curious enough (as I just so happened to be), you can google this thing and find copies of the doc w/ the faces of the guys NOT blurred out...just sayin')

Love,
Me

Dear iPad...

I think I'm in love with you.

I want to touch you.  I want to get to know everything about you and how you can best serve me in my life.  You make things easy for me.  And even though you're a lot smaller than the others I've had, you please me...like they say: size doesn't matter if you know what to do with it.  And you do, iPad, yes, you do.

I love that you can so easily change positions for me...any way I like it.  You impress my parents and my family and I'm sure once my friends get to know you, they'll love you too.  So what if you lack certain traits.  Nobody's perfect. You rock in all the important stuff.  And you're pretty...god, you're pretty.  I feel important when we're together. People take notice and ask me about you.  They're jealous...they want you too.

I don't know how long this infatuation will last.  But, for now, you and me are going everywhere together.

*sigh*...

xoxo,
Me

Dear 23 year old suitor...

Shame on you. Let's make this clear, I am not quite ready yet to enter Cougarville.  Yet your charm and so-obviously-too-young-for-me good looks keep beckoning me towards there.  However, just when I thought that maybe I'd throw caution and all common-sense to the wind and possibly "hang out", your perfectly cliche youth and immaturity kicked me in the gut...thanks for the favor and the slap awake to reality.

With that said, I'd like to share some tidbits to help you in your future with women.  Consider it my "Mrs. Robinson" moment, only not rated R.

• Girls don't want to hear you urinate while on the phone with them.  So, as much as I appreciate you giving me notice that you "have to piss" or "take a leak", I don't want to hear the actual act.  Not hot.
• So, like, I get that you have to like, tell me a story, but like, I want to pull out like every eyelash every time I like hear you say "like".  Like, ok?
• I can appreciate being a student (yes, he's a student...ack) and not having any money.  But, the whole "you can be my Sugar Mama" thing is a major turn off.  Show some ambition, get a job during your summer break (yes, he's on summer break...ack)
• And while you're at it, I don't want to hear about how you had cereal every meal for 2 days and then had peanut butter on a tortilla because you didn't have bread.  Just makes me sad, really.
• Telling me how you haven't changed your sheets in "like, maybe a year" makes me want to vomit. 
• Describing your room as "so not a 23 year old's room" yet displaying a Bob Marley poster and a big black bean bag in the corner says differently.  Oh yeah, and that Japanese army poster you're so proud of...well, study some history...I'm Korean.
• If I was 25, maybe the "Asian girls are so fucking hot" compliment would make my heart warm, but really...that much enthusiasm kinda annoys me now.
• Anything more than 10 years is no longer counted in years, but rather generations.  Take note.

Bless your heart for trying.  I'm sorry girls your age don't "appreciate you".  Keep pluggin', kid.  Me: I'm too old, cranky, tired, and set in my ways to "chill" with you and "just have some fun".  I think I need to find the closest retirement community, approach it as my dating pool, and see if I can't find me a "mature man" to return the favor and teach me a thing or two...

Love, 

Me

Dear Devil's Henchman (aka The Dentist)...

There is a reason people do NOT want to go see you and put it off for as long as possible.  There is absolutely nothing pleasant about these visits.

Last November, I bit the bullet and allowed you to shove your hands into my stretched-to-the-max mouth and very painfully poke, prod, chisel, and shove a new crown on my molar.  I didn't appreciate that for the several months following, anything hot, cold, sweet, crunchy, or salty triggered an increasingly sensitive and painful reaction on that same tooth.

Now, you make me come back only to find that I need to consult with a root canal specialist?  Are you serious?

F' you.  You suck.  I hate you.  I sometimes think the hillbillies are on to something by just letting all their teeth fall out.  At least then they don't have to pay you to do it for them!  Bah!

Love,

Me

Dear C-SPAN

Due to my more-than-moderate interest in the voting for health care reform, I chose to spend a good portion of my day (willingly) watching you for the first time...pretty much ever.  Not bad.  Interesting.  Entertaining, at times. Ridiculous even.  But what I found most amazing is how we've managed to put some of the weirdest looking people in all of America into Congress.  I mean, yes, we've got the obvious ones:  Boehner, Pelosi, Lieberman... but man, some of those no-namers are just plain odd-looking.  I guess every tv show has to have its villains and monsters.  Well done, C-SPAN...you cast 'em perfectly. 

His tan is freakish...oh, and he's an ass...

Her superpower lies in those eyes...they scare you into submission...

Don't let the Bilbo-Baggins smile fool you...he's the bad guy...

You're all nuts.

Love, 

Me

Dear Driver Who Cut Me Off Today

Dear Driver of the SUV who cut me off today,

I try not to complain too much about traffic. Afterall when you live in LA, traffic (and bad driving) is just a part of life. Complaining about it just puts me in a negative mood. However, your lack of respect for your safety and mine on the road has taken discourtesy to new heights. There is a reason that your car comes with a blinker. It is not an accessory, it is a safety device used to warn other drivers that you intend to change lanes. Otherwise, we are left to try and read your mind. And as much as I would love to have that gift, I don't. Furthermore, were you aware that is now against the law to talk on the cell phone without a hands-free device? Clearly, the law was intended for people like you whose driving is severely impaired by being on the phone. My greatest wish for you is that a) you do not end up harming another person with your reckless driving and that b) you should experience some of the same frustration that you laid upon me today.

With great affection,
Me

Dear Lost Wallet...

I'll miss you.

I'll miss the drivers license I've had since I was 20 and the picture that made me look thin and made my false weight almost believable.

I'll miss my Sports Authority receipt that was going to allow me to return the extra pair of goggles, gloves, and hat that I never ended up using...and the $100+ dollars that would have been credited back to my Amex.

I'll miss my $10 Starbucks card that I had tucked away in there.

I'll miss the $40 cash.

I'll miss how the Coach billfold was the perfect size for me to carry around even in the ultra-small clutches I'd take on nights out.

I'll miss the 10+ hours it will take me to cancel my credit cards, go to the DMV to get a new drivers license, and try and convince the TSA to allow me fly domestically the next two weeks for the business and pleasure trips I have planned (the new DL will take up to 6 weeks and no, I don't have a passport)

Quite the pain and inconvenience you've caused by getting lost.

Thanks.

Love,
Me

Dear Twitter.com

I don't understand you. You remind me of the matrix; just page after page of meaningless and unending data that scrolls on forever.  What am I supposed to do with you?  I can't even find people I know because people don't use their real names.  I finally find someone that I know, and the longest message I can send them is about 3 words long.  Everyone includes a link to even more information whenever they type something, and what am I supposed to do, click on each one of those individual links?  I don't have time for you.  I'll keep my account, but only to pester Susan with it.

Lovingly Yours,
Me

Dear Shakira...

Your voice is weird.  If I were you, I'd stay away from ballads.  But your hip roll is money...stick with it...


Love,
Me

Dear Disgusting Growth on My Face...

So I noticed how you started small, basically just irritating the left corner of my mouth.  How the hell did you turn into this monsterous, red, crusty flesh-eating-virus-thingy?  Look, I admit I have been uber-stressed, working way too hard, eating like shit, and not sleeping...and yeah, PMS'ing.  But, I thought the whole point of getting older and dealing with (minor) laugh lines and crows feet was a trade off for not having a disgusting break out of acne!  

Seeing you tonight, I cannot believe the wrath, the big F'you, you're saying to my face.  Are you really a cluster of small zits...or are you actually something worse?  Is this going to turn into some District 9 nightmare?  Whatever you are...go away.  No matter how I try to cover you up with concealer, I see people's eyes wander in your direction when they're talking to me.  I'm starting to get self-conscious...and no boys will want to kiss me (at least that's today's excuse...).  

And you're making it hard to eat.  I can't open my mouth wide enough to take bites.  Its like Snookie after she got decked by that guy and had the fat lip and couldn't really eat the steak and lobster.  And believe you me, I kinda hate being likened to Snookie in any way.  

So, I'll ask nicely...heal thyself.

Thanks.

Love, 

Me

PS - I just noticed how when I frown, you kinda look like a comma hanging off my mouth.  Interesting.