open letters

Dear Blogger:

I really don't want to move to Typepad.
Are you going to make me move to Typepad?
I was never all rah-rah about you, Blogger, but I did quietly support the use of you.
You taunt me with invitations to Beta and then tell me my ass is too fat (um, or my archives are too large, or something).
You do not support my friend Flickr, and I cannot abide by that.
I am getting upset with you and I expect you to do something about it.


Sincerely (and I mean that),
Blackbird



Dear C0-Worker of K's:

I know you all had a very good time at the merger cocktail party last night.
Really.
K seemed to have had an awfully fun time!
And he was very tired when he got home last night.
And he went to sleep, because that's what people do after a fun night out.
I would have thought that you would have gone to sleep too, after all, you have a good long commute and though you seem to have 'called in sick' today, I'm sure you needed your sleep.
So, I was wondering...why did you call last night at 11:27pm? Twice?
I know it was only on his cell phone, the call, and that it is always set on vibrate, but it woke me up - and then I woke him up, and then we were both forced to listen to you speaking loudly about something that really didn't make any sense.
And THEN, as you now know, K didn't really make any sense either, did he.
So, yeah, calling my house after 11pm is usually going to land you in incoherentville.
With an aggravated wife.
Try not to let it happen again, kay?

best,
etc.




Dear New And Very Important Pediatric Pulmonary Specialist,

Wow.
Your picture is on the internet.
And it looks like it was big news when you were made chief of the blahdeeblah department.
But I'm a little puzzled (I'm A Little Teapot!).
Why, if you only see children with pulmonary problems, do you only have office hours during school hours?
I'm only saying.

Yours Truly,
Mother of Youngest, who, I guess, is going to be home from school on the 25th with an 11:30 'could be somewhat lengthy' appointment.






Dear Wacky Neighbor Of My Mother's In The Coffee Shop,

Hey!
Hey, you wacky wacky lady!
I know! Your dog goes EVERYWHERE with you!
I don't like dogs, but that's a different letter.
The thing is, and I think I've made this kind of thing clear in my archives, so you can go check if you want, THE THING IS: the coffee shop is not your boudoir!
I have seen, on many occasions, that you wear lots of gold eyeshadow, and that kicky turban thing, and that nice Cleopatra kohl around your eyes.
You have now confirmed that it is indeed pressed powder that you spackle with.
And the lipstick! It is applied with a brush!
My problem is that I don't want to watch you 'put on your face' whilst having my coffee.
If I did, you'd find me sitting on your toilet each morning in anticipation of the wonderful show I just saw over my baguette.
I know where you live.
And your little DOG too!

Yours Truly.





Dear New Nextdoor Neighbor With The Quirky 9 Year Old And The Adorable Twins (15 months),

Your kids are SO cute.
Really.
I know, the girl is just a scootch odd, but I like that in a kid.
Yes, carrying around a tiny dressed mouse doll is kinda funny, but, hey, my 12 year old is totally attached to that Ugly Doll (tm).
And those babies!
Gad, there is nothing cuter than watching them stumble around on the lawn while they try to run into the street and stuff.
And, boy oh boy, they are early risers!
5:30, huh?
Sheesh.
And we're doing the CIO, are we?
Wow.
How many days/weeks does that take?
Did you know we got some calls from K's co-worker after 11 last night?
No?
oh.

Hey, I'll see you on the block,

bb