Dear Shoulders,
I'm sorry you are in such a state. I tried to get one of the boys to work you out today but when three of his fingers snapped off, I thought it might be best to leave it to a professional. An appointment has been made...
Yours sincerely,
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Feelings In Disguise...
Dear Optimus Prime,
You were my first crush. I think I might have crushed on you before I knew what a crush was. I believe this to be true because when I was little and you appeared in an episode of Transformers, everything was nicer, sweets tasted better and trucks were cool. When faced with a moral dilemma, I would think what would Optimus do? I remember changing my clothes in time for your appearance, I may have even done my hair and put on candy lipstick. I was thinking about this because I realised for the first time in a long time, I am crushing on no one. I love a good crush. I may have to watch an episode of your show...
Yours sincerely,
You were my first crush. I think I might have crushed on you before I knew what a crush was. I believe this to be true because when I was little and you appeared in an episode of Transformers, everything was nicer, sweets tasted better and trucks were cool. When faced with a moral dilemma, I would think what would Optimus do? I remember changing my clothes in time for your appearance, I may have even done my hair and put on candy lipstick. I was thinking about this because I realised for the first time in a long time, I am crushing on no one. I love a good crush. I may have to watch an episode of your show...
Yours sincerely,
Friday, March 27, 2009
Originals Do It Better...
Dear Carmen Miranda,
I I I I I I think you're very nice. Si si si si si I think you're grand....
Yours sincerely,
I I I I I I think you're very nice. Si si si si si I think you're grand....
Yours sincerely,
Kiss Off...
Dear Katy Perry,
Here’s the thing, I can’t bare you. If I have to hear your stupid song one more time, I may throw the radio out the window and put my foot through the television. It seems nowhere is safe from your nasal whine, every café, every shop, every hotel lobby, every music channel since god was a boy, there you are banging on about kissing a girl. You haven’t kissed a girl; there isn’t a sensible woman alive who would want to kiss you.
It just won’t go away, I’m positive I’ve had at least three birthdays since I first heard it; it’s like a red wine stain on a new white top, immovable and so annoying. I was thinking of doing a Van Gogh on myself until I realised it could probably penetrate the bandages. I’m not fooled by your quirky, cutesy, oooh look at me I’m one of a kind act, because you aren’t any of those things, you’ve just stolen the idea from those who’ve gone before, you can put all the fruit in the world on your head and ride a banana bigger than the tube, I will always prefer Carmen Miranda.
It’s a cheap trick, a clever marketing ploy, a large boil on the considerable backside of humanity, it is the boomerang of music, it just won’t go away and stay away, a hook so deadly and infectious it makes the plague look like the common cold, but really, more than anything it’s simply an awful, awful, song. You lady, are enough to make a lesbian want to kiss a man…
Yours sincerely,
Here’s the thing, I can’t bare you. If I have to hear your stupid song one more time, I may throw the radio out the window and put my foot through the television. It seems nowhere is safe from your nasal whine, every café, every shop, every hotel lobby, every music channel since god was a boy, there you are banging on about kissing a girl. You haven’t kissed a girl; there isn’t a sensible woman alive who would want to kiss you. It just won’t go away, I’m positive I’ve had at least three birthdays since I first heard it; it’s like a red wine stain on a new white top, immovable and so annoying. I was thinking of doing a Van Gogh on myself until I realised it could probably penetrate the bandages. I’m not fooled by your quirky, cutesy, oooh look at me I’m one of a kind act, because you aren’t any of those things, you’ve just stolen the idea from those who’ve gone before, you can put all the fruit in the world on your head and ride a banana bigger than the tube, I will always prefer Carmen Miranda.
It’s a cheap trick, a clever marketing ploy, a large boil on the considerable backside of humanity, it is the boomerang of music, it just won’t go away and stay away, a hook so deadly and infectious it makes the plague look like the common cold, but really, more than anything it’s simply an awful, awful, song. You lady, are enough to make a lesbian want to kiss a man…
Yours sincerely,
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Room Service...
Dear People Who Spend A lot Of Time In Hotels,
We should form a club. Right now, there a hundreds of us under one roof away from friends and family watching television and eating room service we do not care for. I should knock on your door and invite you to dinner. We should go exploring.
We could go wining and dining and afterwards, dancing, dancing in the kind of club you would never stumble upon in real life. Where the people are a little scary and the decor is divine, even the floor lights up, when I say Daft, you say Punk. We might even tango. We could have the kind of conversation that goes hand in hand with never seeing some one again. I could give you the best advice you've ever received, the kind you will pass on to your grandchildren and you, you will tell me to stop wasting my energy on him and I will tell you you're right and delete him, all aspects of him, there and then.
We should give ourselves reasons to come back here that have nothing to do with work. We could find something that would make us want to write a postcard. I will never know your last name.
We could throw water on the heads of the girls screaming for the popstar in the room below us, take polaroids, drink champagne on a Tuesday, swap music, make movies, have sex, talk books, play twister, anything really, if only I'd knock on your door...
Yours sincerely,
We should form a club. Right now, there a hundreds of us under one roof away from friends and family watching television and eating room service we do not care for. I should knock on your door and invite you to dinner. We should go exploring. We could go wining and dining and afterwards, dancing, dancing in the kind of club you would never stumble upon in real life. Where the people are a little scary and the decor is divine, even the floor lights up, when I say Daft, you say Punk. We might even tango. We could have the kind of conversation that goes hand in hand with never seeing some one again. I could give you the best advice you've ever received, the kind you will pass on to your grandchildren and you, you will tell me to stop wasting my energy on him and I will tell you you're right and delete him, all aspects of him, there and then.
We should give ourselves reasons to come back here that have nothing to do with work. We could find something that would make us want to write a postcard. I will never know your last name.
We could throw water on the heads of the girls screaming for the popstar in the room below us, take polaroids, drink champagne on a Tuesday, swap music, make movies, have sex, talk books, play twister, anything really, if only I'd knock on your door...
Yours sincerely,
Murder She Wrote...
Dear Angela Landsbury,
It appears you are my new room mate.
So far, in every hotel room, in every city, you have been right there with me. I think you might have your own channel. It's usually number 5. I'm beginning to fear for my safety, when Jessica Fletcher appears, no good can come of this...
Seems to me lady, every time a corpse appears there you are, taking notes, pointing the finger, deceptively strong for one in her twilight years, like a modern day super hero, with a twinset instead of a cape, solving/committing murders, yeah, I said committing...I'm on to you Angela, the jig is up, oh you're clever, but it's coming, like a Scooby Doo reveal, I'm calling the sheriff, in the meantime I'm locking my door...
Yours sincerely,.
It appears you are my new room mate.
So far, in every hotel room, in every city, you have been right there with me. I think you might have your own channel. It's usually number 5. I'm beginning to fear for my safety, when Jessica Fletcher appears, no good can come of this... Seems to me lady, every time a corpse appears there you are, taking notes, pointing the finger, deceptively strong for one in her twilight years, like a modern day super hero, with a twinset instead of a cape, solving/committing murders, yeah, I said committing...I'm on to you Angela, the jig is up, oh you're clever, but it's coming, like a Scooby Doo reveal, I'm calling the sheriff, in the meantime I'm locking my door...
Yours sincerely,.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Slainte...
Dear Guinness,
Sometimes it's hard to be Irish, St Patrick's day is a killer.
It's a double whammy for me as it's my birthday, I didn't stand a chance. I know you don't like to mix with other drinks, but I think your reaction to the champagne was a little violent, he was only trying to join in the fun and yes, I know he's french and you're a stickler for tradition, but next year, if he visits again, try to contain yourself, try to remember that I had spent all day with you, try to embrace him like you do our good friend oysters, please don't send me home after only 20 minutes in his company. You may argue that I love to dance, but there are spins and then there are spins....
Yours sincerely,
Sometimes it's hard to be Irish, St Patrick's day is a killer.
It's a double whammy for me as it's my birthday, I didn't stand a chance. I know you don't like to mix with other drinks, but I think your reaction to the champagne was a little violent, he was only trying to join in the fun and yes, I know he's french and you're a stickler for tradition, but next year, if he visits again, try to contain yourself, try to remember that I had spent all day with you, try to embrace him like you do our good friend oysters, please don't send me home after only 20 minutes in his company. You may argue that I love to dance, but there are spins and then there are spins....Yours sincerely,
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Ever Dance With The Devil In The Pale Moonlight...
Dear Batman,
I wish you'd come and rescue me. I'm trapped in various hotel rooms for the next 7 weeks and all you can do is prance about on the telly with Vicky Vale. Honestly all she does is scream and look good in red lipstick. I look good in red lipstick, but I rarely scream. I also never wear white when it's raining or go to dinner with men who have green hair, a ropey smile and dance badly to Prince. It is almost impossible to dance badly to Prince, unless your Bill Oddie, but that's another story...
I wouldn't require you to jump off a building to save me because I had stupidly wandered down an alley way, (especially when there is a perfectly well lit, busy street, for my tootsies to trot along) and I most certainly wouldn't take photographs of you getting your arse kicked whilst protecting me after I had done this. I'm more likely to pick up a plank and hit the bad guy from behind. I would sincerely hope the word "conk" appears in a brightly lit speech bubble, accompanied of course, with appropriate comedy sound effect. I wouldn't even ask any awkward questions about Robin. I'd just like to go for a ride in your car and check out your belt, maybe afterwards, we could have tea with Alfred....Alfred's cool...
Yours sincerely,
I wish you'd come and rescue me. I'm trapped in various hotel rooms for the next 7 weeks and all you can do is prance about on the telly with Vicky Vale. Honestly all she does is scream and look good in red lipstick. I look good in red lipstick, but I rarely scream. I also never wear white when it's raining or go to dinner with men who have green hair, a ropey smile and dance badly to Prince. It is almost impossible to dance badly to Prince, unless your Bill Oddie, but that's another story...I wouldn't require you to jump off a building to save me because I had stupidly wandered down an alley way, (especially when there is a perfectly well lit, busy street, for my tootsies to trot along) and I most certainly wouldn't take photographs of you getting your arse kicked whilst protecting me after I had done this. I'm more likely to pick up a plank and hit the bad guy from behind. I would sincerely hope the word "conk" appears in a brightly lit speech bubble, accompanied of course, with appropriate comedy sound effect. I wouldn't even ask any awkward questions about Robin. I'd just like to go for a ride in your car and check out your belt, maybe afterwards, we could have tea with Alfred....Alfred's cool...
Yours sincerely,
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
We're All Good...
Dear Mam,
Today is your anniversary. It's hard to believe you've been gone 22 years, that's twice as long as I knew you, if I were to measure it with something as simple as time. Sometimes, I think it would be so nice to sit across from you like we used to at our special tea parties and watch you make us a chocolate biscuit sandwich. I still remember the first time I saw you do it, it even seemed odd to me as a six year old, and we all know six year olds would eat a mud pie if left to their own devices. Funny part is, secretly I think they are yummy, a chocolate biscuit between two slices of bread shouldn't work, but it does.
There are lots of things I would like to ask you, but mostly I'd just want to know how you are. I'd tell you about your grand babies, how my brother is an amazing dad, his eldest is just like me, which means she's just like you, although she could give both of us a run for our money when it comes to mischief. I'd also tell you I'm fine, truly, I miss you still, some days more than others, but I wouldn't trade the time we had for anything. It was a short time, but it was the best time, no rose tinted glasses, you were wonderful and I was so lucky to have had you at all. I've even accepted my love for Boney M as part of your legacy, there's just no getting away from it, Rasputin is a tune....
Love,
Today is your anniversary. It's hard to believe you've been gone 22 years, that's twice as long as I knew you, if I were to measure it with something as simple as time. Sometimes, I think it would be so nice to sit across from you like we used to at our special tea parties and watch you make us a chocolate biscuit sandwich. I still remember the first time I saw you do it, it even seemed odd to me as a six year old, and we all know six year olds would eat a mud pie if left to their own devices. Funny part is, secretly I think they are yummy, a chocolate biscuit between two slices of bread shouldn't work, but it does.
There are lots of things I would like to ask you, but mostly I'd just want to know how you are. I'd tell you about your grand babies, how my brother is an amazing dad, his eldest is just like me, which means she's just like you, although she could give both of us a run for our money when it comes to mischief. I'd also tell you I'm fine, truly, I miss you still, some days more than others, but I wouldn't trade the time we had for anything. It was a short time, but it was the best time, no rose tinted glasses, you were wonderful and I was so lucky to have had you at all. I've even accepted my love for Boney M as part of your legacy, there's just no getting away from it, Rasputin is a tune....
Love,
Saturday, March 07, 2009
You Have Been Served...
Dear Spider,
It's nothing personal, well actually it's fairly personal, I don't like you. I no longer want you in my house, consider this an eviction notice if you will. I'm sorry to do this just as the weather turns bad, but you appear to be getting bigger and under the terms of your lease, this is forbidden. When you first moved in, I did my best not to notice, but what with the constant web building and the growth spurt, this house ain't big enough for both of us.
The fact is, and believe me, I am aware at this point I will begin to sound like my father, I am the only one paying the rent, this, coupled with your flagrant disregard for the terms and conditions of our co-habitation, has left me with no other option.
You may argue, you eat flies, I appreciate this contribution, but to be fair, it's winter there are no flies, plus I don't eat flies, so it's not like you even have to share. Would it kill you to clean up after yourself once in a while? I think the final straw for me was when you entered my room the other day, up until that day, you had always respected my personal space and I in return did not flush you down the toilet. It begs the question, what next? Will I come home to find you smoking a fag, reading my diary, whilst wearing my underwear? You've stayed here long enough, out worn your welcome, you have eight legs, I suggest you use them...
Yours sincerely,
It's nothing personal, well actually it's fairly personal, I don't like you. I no longer want you in my house, consider this an eviction notice if you will. I'm sorry to do this just as the weather turns bad, but you appear to be getting bigger and under the terms of your lease, this is forbidden. When you first moved in, I did my best not to notice, but what with the constant web building and the growth spurt, this house ain't big enough for both of us.
The fact is, and believe me, I am aware at this point I will begin to sound like my father, I am the only one paying the rent, this, coupled with your flagrant disregard for the terms and conditions of our co-habitation, has left me with no other option.
You may argue, you eat flies, I appreciate this contribution, but to be fair, it's winter there are no flies, plus I don't eat flies, so it's not like you even have to share. Would it kill you to clean up after yourself once in a while? I think the final straw for me was when you entered my room the other day, up until that day, you had always respected my personal space and I in return did not flush you down the toilet. It begs the question, what next? Will I come home to find you smoking a fag, reading my diary, whilst wearing my underwear? You've stayed here long enough, out worn your welcome, you have eight legs, I suggest you use them...
Yours sincerely,
Off To Bed I Go...
Dearest Dj,
I think you may have performed a small miracle. You see, I love to dance, I love to dance more than most things in this life. I don't even need to be in a club, I can happily be in my living room, with nothing but the stereo for company, but tonight, tonight, you played four in a row, four, count them, four. I met Joyceln Brown once, she called me button...
Yours sincerely,
I think you may have performed a small miracle. You see, I love to dance, I love to dance more than most things in this life. I don't even need to be in a club, I can happily be in my living room, with nothing but the stereo for company, but tonight, tonight, you played four in a row, four, count them, four. I met Joyceln Brown once, she called me button...
Yours sincerely,
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Your 15 minutes Have Been Extended...
Dear Facebook,
I've got your number, the jig is up, it occurred to me the other day, that you, are in fact the people's tabloid. You are not, as you constantly claim,( Dear God how many times can one manifesto use the word share), a social networking site. You're a tabloid, straight up, a tabloid for people who aren't famous, but are undoubtedly notorious, especially after a certain party on Friday night, thank Jehovah she tagged her, I mean, what would we have talked about for the rest of the week if she hadn't? Has anyone seen my book...?
You are a gossip magazine for the masses. Who drank what, who fell over, who wore what to which party? Cheated on who, with whom, who was single, got in a relationship, got out of a relationship only to get into a relationship with someone I share 30 mutual friends with and have never met. Hell, I don't even have 30 friends, not if we are to take friends to mean, people you would do anything for and can trust with everything. If I met me in real life, I would be very suspicious indeed of my 219 friends, 219 friends, seriously, who has time for that many friends, I have a job, a life, 24 to watch...
So I'm thinking, maybe you're being a little ambitious with the use of the word book in your title. I get Facemag doesn't have quite the same ring to it, I appreciate the addictive nature of your existence, paging Betty Ford, paging Betty Ford, come in Betty, but sweet Gepetto in heaven, I want to be a real girl not a virtual one. So I just wanted you to know, while I have fallen prey to your considerable charms, I can quit anytime I want....Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go, someone, somewhere, we may have met in a bar, who knows, is poking me...
Yours sincerely,
I've got your number, the jig is up, it occurred to me the other day, that you, are in fact the people's tabloid. You are not, as you constantly claim,( Dear God how many times can one manifesto use the word share), a social networking site. You're a tabloid, straight up, a tabloid for people who aren't famous, but are undoubtedly notorious, especially after a certain party on Friday night, thank Jehovah she tagged her, I mean, what would we have talked about for the rest of the week if she hadn't? Has anyone seen my book...?You are a gossip magazine for the masses. Who drank what, who fell over, who wore what to which party? Cheated on who, with whom, who was single, got in a relationship, got out of a relationship only to get into a relationship with someone I share 30 mutual friends with and have never met. Hell, I don't even have 30 friends, not if we are to take friends to mean, people you would do anything for and can trust with everything. If I met me in real life, I would be very suspicious indeed of my 219 friends, 219 friends, seriously, who has time for that many friends, I have a job, a life, 24 to watch...
So I'm thinking, maybe you're being a little ambitious with the use of the word book in your title. I get Facemag doesn't have quite the same ring to it, I appreciate the addictive nature of your existence, paging Betty Ford, paging Betty Ford, come in Betty, but sweet Gepetto in heaven, I want to be a real girl not a virtual one. So I just wanted you to know, while I have fallen prey to your considerable charms, I can quit anytime I want....Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go, someone, somewhere, we may have met in a bar, who knows, is poking me...
Yours sincerely,
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Some Enchanted Evening...
Dear Napoleon,
I read your letters to Josephine yesterday. I truly didn't mean to intrude, if someone read my letters, I would never get tired of punching them... But apparently, time and history negates privacy.
I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but she didn't love you as much as you loved her, did she? It's sad, when you think about all that you achieved and she didn't love you the way you wanted. It's all anyone wants really, isn't it? Control all the countries the world has to offer, but if you can't conquer a heart, well, nothing is good enough. Maybe that's it, maybe you tried to own her, a free spirit, people say, love conquers all, but really, you should never have to convince someone to love you, you should never have to plead or beg, that is a case that should make itself.
She made up stories to not see you, she took lovers and ran around, partied when you weren't looking, Josephine was a creeper, a player, if she was alive today, she would surely be MC Jo to the Phine, with tales of diamonds, cristal and assorted lovers, not necessarily in that order. I bet she'd even drive a hummer. Your story is timeless. Oh great Emperor, if you were standing in a club drinking Red Stripe, it would be no different to many a man or woman's Friday night.
I could tell you there are plenty more fish in the sea, but when the heart wants, what the heart wants, I think we both know, I'd be lying....
Yours sincerely,
I read your letters to Josephine yesterday. I truly didn't mean to intrude, if someone read my letters, I would never get tired of punching them... But apparently, time and history negates privacy.I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but she didn't love you as much as you loved her, did she? It's sad, when you think about all that you achieved and she didn't love you the way you wanted. It's all anyone wants really, isn't it? Control all the countries the world has to offer, but if you can't conquer a heart, well, nothing is good enough. Maybe that's it, maybe you tried to own her, a free spirit, people say, love conquers all, but really, you should never have to convince someone to love you, you should never have to plead or beg, that is a case that should make itself.
She made up stories to not see you, she took lovers and ran around, partied when you weren't looking, Josephine was a creeper, a player, if she was alive today, she would surely be MC Jo to the Phine, with tales of diamonds, cristal and assorted lovers, not necessarily in that order. I bet she'd even drive a hummer. Your story is timeless. Oh great Emperor, if you were standing in a club drinking Red Stripe, it would be no different to many a man or woman's Friday night.
I could tell you there are plenty more fish in the sea, but when the heart wants, what the heart wants, I think we both know, I'd be lying....
Yours sincerely,
Monday, March 02, 2009
It's All In The Gut...
Dear Instinct,
You were right, I was wrong, I should have listened to you. For what it's worth, I intend to listen to you a whole lot more in the future. How many times do I have to learn something the hard way, before I learn it? There you were, my little voice, telling me what I knew, but I, with my ability to, no wait, disability to, and I quote, "see the very best, in the worst of people", ignored you. Seems to me, every time I have gotten into trouble or been let down in this life, is when I didn't listen to you. It must be hard for you to keep coming back and issue warnings that are rarely heeded, certainly in the last few years I have all but dumped you, like a bad boyfriend, when really, what a loyal, loving friend you are.
It hit me like an anvil today, I have to trust you, I don't have to trust anything else, but I do have to trust you. You rarely lead me astray, it's when I don't pay you any notice, that trouble surfaces. So, here it is, my pledge to you, I'm sticking with you buddy, through thick and thin, rain or shine, hell or high water, through good metaphors and bad, it's you and me, from now on, you and me...
Yours sincerely,
You were right, I was wrong, I should have listened to you. For what it's worth, I intend to listen to you a whole lot more in the future. How many times do I have to learn something the hard way, before I learn it? There you were, my little voice, telling me what I knew, but I, with my ability to, no wait, disability to, and I quote, "see the very best, in the worst of people", ignored you. Seems to me, every time I have gotten into trouble or been let down in this life, is when I didn't listen to you. It must be hard for you to keep coming back and issue warnings that are rarely heeded, certainly in the last few years I have all but dumped you, like a bad boyfriend, when really, what a loyal, loving friend you are.
It hit me like an anvil today, I have to trust you, I don't have to trust anything else, but I do have to trust you. You rarely lead me astray, it's when I don't pay you any notice, that trouble surfaces. So, here it is, my pledge to you, I'm sticking with you buddy, through thick and thin, rain or shine, hell or high water, through good metaphors and bad, it's you and me, from now on, you and me...
Yours sincerely,
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