Box Full of Letters (the new letters thread)

[milesofsparks]

dear volunteer fire fighters of Blue Point,

your BBQ was fucking awesome.  thanks and good luck with the fire fighting.

MoS

[Anne the Man]

Dear Brain of mine,

Send out more endorphins. You're slacking off badly. Fuck you.

Miserably yours (unfortunately),
Anne

[theartlessmonster]

Dear Mary,

Good luck on your pursuit of the black magic,

M

Dear M,

Uuuh yeah so I prefer to call it off-white to beige magic or maybe gray...but never black. And, well I had the charm all ready to go and I didn't do it, the last of off white spells I put on this guy well caused him to get his apartment broken into.  I don't want the karmic retribution. So I'm laying off. BUT he better STOP bugging me or I can't be held responsible.

- M

PS - it was a deliciously off white spell though, i'll tell you that and with the full moon it would have been PERFECT, but i took pity on the poor bastard.

[clare]

Dear Mental Health,

Please get your shit together. This is getting annoying.
 
Thankyou,

C.


==========================

Dear son,
Please wake up soon, my boobs hurt.
I love you,
Mummy.

[DanielBurns11]

Dear Nostalgia,

How come you insist on making me cry through half of fucking Jagged Little Pill?

- You know who

[sassymcassface]

dear bones,

please stop with the pain. i'd like to enjoy the stuff i have planned this weekend, and if my left leg hurts i can't drive fun cars.  please rectify this situation post-haste.

sincerely yours,
owner of your jerkselves

[diesel_powered]

Dear Office,

Sending me emails about keys still in my possession does not frighten me and enticing me with promises of cash influences me even less. I never put down a deposit on those keys and I'm still working here, so you'll get them when you pry them out of my cold, dead hands. Guess what? I'm getting an ID lanyard with an endorsement from the Museum next! What then? I'll be able to talk to my superiors in the office without having to be buzzed in! HOW BOUT THEM APPLES?!

Sincerely,

Eta Dikk

[theartlessmonster]

dear diesel,

i don't know your sitch. but i have a friend that works at a hospital and if she loses her keys they take it out of her check. just make sure they dont take the key amount out of your paycheck.

best
m

[diesel_powered]

Dear Mary,

Check adjustments of any kind are immediately punishable by rains of pain and hails of hurt.

 ,

M

P.S. And anyway, what am I supposed to do on the job without keys? I need keys!

[diesel_powered]

Dear Holiday Market,

When I stood in front of your deli case, eyeing up the citrus jicama slaw, I expected a generous portion of jicama with mandarin oranges and maybe a dash of juice or rice vinegar. What I did not expect was a generous portion of jicama soaking in canola oil. Canola oil that is now soaking my grocery bag as the person behind the counter did not think to put said offending "citrus jicama slaw" in a plastic container rather than a paper container.

FAIL,

M

[coldforge]

Don't use 'FAIL' as an interjection, or a valediction. It's unbecoming.

[diesel_powered]

Unbecoming words for an unbecoming slaw.

[El_Josharino]

If I was on you I'd unbecoming too.

[Maaik]

Aaaaalley-OOP.

[diesel_powered]

He scores!

[silentsigh89]

Dear Guy that caught me singing and dancing to "Get Back" today in the middle of Schnecksville,

You could have made me feel really bad! Thanks for giving me the double thumbs up instead. You don't have to get back, motherfucker.

Thinking about brawling 'til you all start bawling,

Beth

[guanajuato]

dear world,

i am writing you to request a fat wry sidekick. sunshine, and shatter, please allow me to befriend a pudgy world-cellmate. he will be my straight man in social situations. i will make a joke and he will laugh along with me, and we will crush it all, the sky and everything. earth, please listen.

thanks

mb

[coldforge]

Dear Apple lady:

I'm sorry that I cussed at you and hurt your feelings. But you people are incompetent and potentially and insane, and you took from me over an hour of my life. It's not even my computer.

[jebreject]

mb:

request granted.

sincerely,

the world.

[theartlessmonster]

dear portabellos,

get off me! you are making me sponge-like

thanks,
m

dear oracle convention goer from ny i'll never see again,

thanks making me laugh, for being funny and for creating an imaginary cruise ship with me for our imaginary friends. oh and the two key lime martinis.



thanks,
m

[sassymcassface]

dear transportation devices i will be riding tomorrow,

please don't fuck up.  i need you to work.

love,
angela


dear body,

please be okay with waking up at 4 am. i know, we hate the morning, especially the early morning, but you will be rewarded with sweet sweet coffee and oatmeal if you do this.

love,
your partner in meat-sacking

[alistarr*]

Dear waste/radiohead,

I already spent £40 on this album - loved every penny of it, too. But I'm not about to install a program like itunes on my computer just to pay you more money for something I'll probably never use.

Make these files available through somewhere other than itunes and I know at least one person who will be more likely to want to get hold of them. Have you for example heard of Boomkat.com? It's a rather nice music retail website which has somehow and almost inexplicably found a way to sell digital music without demanding a program install beforehand.

I write in good faith and hope you'll understand that my frustration is directed first and foremost at itunes. My frustration at wanting to pay for this release is a secondary emotion.

All the best,

alistair

[Greg Nog]

Dear tall man,

A little over a decade ago, maybe around 1996, you donated one of your old suit jackets to Salvation Army.  A nice warm brown blazer -- warm in both the temperature and color sense.  Perfect for brisk autumn weather.  Why you gave it up, I dunno.  The thing was in perfect condition.  Chocolate brown, simple brushed brazen buttons, no visible holes or tears.  Maybe you got too fat for it or something, or maybe you decided that brown didn't look so good on you.

Sometime after you donated the jacket, I wandered into the Salvation Army thrift store on Elm Street, and I bought it.  It was on sale for only fifty cents, and I thought, "Fifty-cent suit coat?  Yeah, why not get a suit coat?  Ha ha, sure.  Fifty cents, what the hell."  It fit pretty well -- a little long, especially in the sleeves, but a good width all over my torso, which had only recently gotten narrower due to a year of depression.  The jacket cost the price of one round of the X-Men video game at the local arcade.  Which was fine, since watching friends play the game was actually just as entertaining as playing it myself, especially since Mike's a tard at that and never remembers that using his mutant power depletes his life and then he dies and he's like "What happened?"  And we're like, "You used your mutant power too much, Mike."  And he's like, "But I was surrounded by guys."  And Artie's like, "I was surrounded by guys, too, but I'm still alive."  And Mike's like, "Yeah, but you've got Wolverine, it's easier with Wolverine."  And Artie's like, "You want Wolverine?" and Mike's like, "No, I like Colossus."  And Artie throws his hands into the air and says, "WELL?"

So I bought the jacket, and a few days later, I wore it to school.  I happened to run into Maddie Medeiros at some point near the end of the day, and she remarked, "Greg, you were made for blazers."  Her eyes twinkled in that lovely way they did, and I said thanks, and of course I wore that jacket kind of a lot after that.  'Cause hell and damn, Maddie's wicked cute.

In the last eleven or so years, I've kept the jacket, and it's held up remarkably well.  Owning one led to buying a few more for variety's sake, all at the same Salvation-Army-level prices, and suit jackets led to ties and full suits, eventually forming a pretty sizable chunk of my wardrobe.  I found they were remarkably cheap when bought second-hand, which means I didn't even really need to be overly concerned with caring for them, which means that in general, they enter and exit my wardrobe as easily as t-shirts or socks.  But that brown jacket's been surprisingly resistant to wear.  Salvation Army moved off Elm Street as Manchester's economy picked up and Elm turned into a bunch of fancy boutiques and restaurants, and the arcade moved all the way out to Candia, and Maddie got married to some dude she met in college.  But I've still got the jacket.

So although most of the jacket's held up, there are little problems here and there -- the too-long sleeves are all worn down at the cuffs, and one of the pockets is ripped, and some of the lining's gotten a bit torn.  Yesterday, I brought it to the tailor, and they said they could fix all the problems for about fifty bucks.  That's a hundred times more than I paid for the jacket.  I agreed to pay, I gave 'em the jacket, and they said it'll be ready for me by Friday.  Sweet.

Someday, tall man, the jacket will wear through entirely, on the elbows or someplace else without a seam, someplace that can't be inconspicuously patched.  Maybe it'll get some big bleach stain, maybe it'll catch fire.  On that day, the jacket will be too old to keep wearing, and I'll be sad about it, but impermanence is sorta the nature of the game, so what can you do.  For now, though, the jacket is still wearable, making it the longest-worn article of clothing I own.

Tall man, there are very few physical objects I own that I can point to and say, "That thing right there?  That is a memory."  The shifting of my personality has happened slowly over the years, without a lot of great euphemisms or conscious self-reinventions, and it's rare that any of the myriad tiny shifts between adolescence and my adult life have been marked by tangible items.  But that jacket?  That was a piece of my growth from boyhood to manhood.  That is a memory.

Thanks, tall man, for donating that jacket to the thrift store.

Best,
Greg

PS - Tailors: don't fuck up.

[coldforge]

I peed on it.

[Wally]

While he was wearing it?