To Whom It May Concern - The "Where Have You Been 'Young' Lady?" - Edition

January -
Dear Funky Mammogram, what a great way to start off the year!  But thanks for being there for me.

March -
Dear Needle Biopsy, you are not nearly as painful as your name would suggest.  I am so glad you turned out to be a negative guy.  Positive can be such a downer sometimes, y'know?

April -
Dear Gremlin, we made it!  You're five years old.  I know it was touch and go for a while there - especially during those terrible twos (and threes) but here we are!  Thank you, I love you.

May -
Welcome acquiring company!  Thank you for asking! I'd love a large Blue Cross Blue Shield with a PPO and a side of dental.  What's that?  You've just got New Coke, circa 1985.  Oh, I guess that'll be almost as good.  Thanks.

June -
Dear company that strung us along for the past six months with promises of the ideal job only to go with nepotism in the end.  This is me, pointing two fingers up to my eyes then pointing them toward you, then pointing two fingers up to my eyes then pointing them toward you. Understood?

July -
Dear Andy, have fun at the trial in Texas.  Sorry you had to miss our Cape vacation.  With your family. And our anniversary.  I mean our 10th anniversary.

September -
Dear Birthday,  beginning in 2011, you will take place sometime in May. I hope this change isn't too inconvenient to you but I think you'll agree that a time not coinciding with the first week of school will allow us some more time to enjoy one another's company.

November -
Dear Former Company, Pfffft!
Dear Lymphoma, just like a coward, you bring a knife to a gun fight.  Back the eff away from my friend.  Good boy. Now stay...staaay...

Dear 2010,
Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

Dear 2011,
Welcome, my year of health, prosperity, happiness, new job, and new house!  Treat me right and I'll recommend you to all my friends.  Treat me wrong and I'll make you wish you were 2001.

To Whom It May Concern - Volume (I don't know and I can't be bothered to look it up)

Dear USA Olympic Spectator: The giant, red, foam, USA cowboy hat? Bold fashion choice. Way to represent! Rube.

Dear Guy at Foxwoods sitting next to me at the slots: You really did look like a Butch-y woman. Didn't mean it as an insult when I called you "she". Peace out.

Dear Discountfloor.com: $676.10 for 8 boxes of clearance carpet tiles really doesn't feel like a discount. And $80.00 for shipping?  This is for our basement.  Thanks but no thanks.

Dear Ants climbing the pipes into my bathroom:  It's February!   We can do battle in the spring. Go night-nights fer chrissake!

Dear Barry Manilow:  I'm so happy I found your Ultimate Manilow CD when we  moved the fridge this week.  I must say, however that listening to it while driving around on a cold and dreary day makes me want to drive into a bridge abutment.  I hope you're happier than you were back in the 70s.

Dear NPR:  I understand that the ethics of force feeding hunger strikers is an important topic but do you think you could schedule the discussion for a time when I am not trying to shovel down a not-so-savory Healthy  Choice meal? Not good.

Dear Me:  Oh, looky!  Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits!  Into the car it goes!

Dear Me (2):  Find a current radio station.  Listen to it.  You're getting a little pathetic.

Every Day I Write the Book

1. The shrew on the AT&T Wireless commercial with the roll-over minutes fetish. Do they think this will make me say "Gee, I wanna be like her. Think I'll dump Verizon." or worse, that all moms are like this? Either way, you piss me off. You're on the list

2. The pretentious bitch on the Glade commercial. I see that now they're trying to make more likable. And a recurring character. Ad Agency Fail.

3. The fact that I now have to sign in prior to taking my yoga class. Apparently, my gym is now offering a cheaper membership that does not include classes. Let me get this straight; I pay more so I'm inconvenienced. Brilliant marketing strategy. Fail.

4. Every Kenmore appliance that I own. We bought the house in need of all new appliances. We were house poor. Kenmore was cheap. We got what we paid for. Two more visits by the appliance repair guys and we will have paid more to fix our stove than we did to purchase it.

5. My town's decision *not* to do a 'clean sweep' of all the leaves due to budget restraints. And then? We we all rake up eleventy-gazzillion leaves? Make sure you don't actually do a yard waste collection on they day you were supposed to. Because the leaf bags in front of my house (a) look fab and (b) get really, really (really) heavy after a day of soaking rain.


Head over to my friend, Sue's for more ungratitude. What's pissing you off today?

To Whom It May Concern

Dear Heinz/Hellmans/French's:
I'm sick of your upside-down bottles. They're awkwardly sized and you really waste a lot when you get to the bottom (err, top?). I'm a big girl; I can handle flipping it over and shaking it a little. What ever happened to anticipation anyway?

Dear ESPN:
Your announcers suck. It's not just that they are biased against the Red Sox but they don't even announce the game. Rather, they wander off on semi-relevant tangents and come back from commercial in the middle of play. I recognize this last complaint is not the announcers' fault but I just wanted to demonstrate my own tangent-ability.

Dear Mom at Stop and Shop:
Thanks so much for bringing your tweens shopping with you. Next time, might I suggest they skip the Heelys and you keep them in the same vicinity as you? Bet you'd be the first person to sue if the children were to wipe out in the frozen foods aisle.

Dear Heelys:
Your website is as obnoxious as your product. Good luck with that.

Dear Museum of Science:
Even if charging one adult and two children $54.00 for a few hours at the museum does not preclude you from being able to call yourself "not-for-profit", charging $24.00 for a plate of mac n cheese, chicken fingers, and a salad does. PS, those Bakugans in the gift shop you're charging $19.99 for? Sell for $7.99 at Target.

Dear XM:
If you're going to have an entire station dedicated to The First Wave/early 80s, go the extra mile and assume that your listeners would like to hear the extended version of of Bullet the Blue Sky.

You are forgiven for this oversight because you played Save a Prayer right after The Cure.

Dear Me:
Awesome decision to go with the sunroof and XM. Driving down the highway just past dusk on a not-too-hot August night, listening to Duran Duran with the volume turned up is one of life's great pleasures.

To Whom It May Concern - Volume 3

Dear Valerie Bertinelli:
You look fabulous, you really do! Congratulations on the bikini bod. You obviously worked hard and it's paid off. But could you do me a favor and dial it back a little? You're really giving some husbands out there higher hopes than you should. And it's giving those of us who are also trying to commit to a weight loss/fitness regimen unrealistic expectations to live up to. You seem genuinely nice. So I know you'll cut a sister a break. Please. Go eat a doughnut.

Dear Honda CR-V:
I looooove you. You are adorable, drive like a dream, and have far more interior room than the Trailblazer could ever dream of. I promise to drive you ever so gently into the ground and take wonderful care of you every mile of the way.

Dear Driver in the Buick LeSabre:
Today, when you were merging into my lane as we both eeked past the roadwork on Rte 93? I was actually occupying that space. Your car bumped my beautiful bronze baby (see above). I have your license plate number, your car's description, and your personal description plugged into my cell phone. Luckily, when I stopped, I couldn't find a scratch. But it was pouring rain. Rest assured, if I do discover so much as a smudge on my right front quarter panel in the next two years, your ass is mine.

Dear Mean Dad:
Sometimes people are just trying to do a nice thing. Like yesterday at the movie theater? When I asked you if you were going to see Monsters vs. Aliens? I wasn't taking a survey, I wasn't going to ask you for anything. We had purchased tickets online and had an extra ticket after my 4 year old opted out. I asked because you had an appropriately aged little boy and I thought it would commit a random act of kindness and give you a free ticket. Instead, you dismissed me and told me you were in a hurry. I hope you felt small afterward. You should.

Dear Oral B Stages Toothpaste:
In what universe is bubble gum flavor fluorescent blue? My kids don't like regular minty toothpaste so I've got to get you. But really? My sink, floor, grout, and towels are chronically electric blue. I know if you really set your minds to it, you could make a slightly less garish (and permanent) shade.

Dear Boys:
You're both very smart, fairly coordinated children. What is it about toothpaste that makes you smear it all over the bathroom? Clean up your acts! Please.
PS - thanks for no longer making tooth brushing a full contact sport.

Dear Liquid Plumber Professional Strength:
FAIL.

To Whom It May Concern:

Dear Person-who-walked-in-front-of-the-car-in-front-of-the-car-in-front-of-me:
Please look both ways before you cross. That three SUV collision you caused is sure to increase my insurance premiums.

Dear SUV in front of me:
Bumpers don't bump even at low speeds if one leaves her trailer hitch on. Can you say "significant front end damage"?

Dear USAA:
Mea culpa on the Et Tu thing. You guys have been awesome throughout the unfortunate rear-ending incident. (Latin with Latin = clever!)

Dear Enterprise Rent-a-Car:
Nissan Altima? "Premium" vehicle? Really?

Dear Nissan:
The button thing? What's wrong with starting a car with keys?
Ps - One week, 250+ miles, half a tank of gas = Four cylinders rock!

Dear Squirrels tunneling in through the wood near the gutter:
We are not your winter home. Don't make me go all Over the Hedge on your asses.

Dear Family:
Hey look! The dishwasher is right there! Next. to. the. sink!

Dear Toontown.com:
What a rip off. Thanks for making my son cry.

Dear Microsoft Word 2007:
If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Now it's broke.

Dear DirectTV:
Your commercial with the poor, dead, little Carol-Ann from Poltergeist is just creepy.

Dear Craig T. Nelson:
You should be ashamed of yourself.

Dear Starbucks:
Smooches. I remain your bitch.

Sincerely,

Christine