Open Letters:

From Me to Some of Everyone

In an open letter to the suggested correction in Google that made me feel shame,

“Well, that was embarrassing. I mean, I know that I am not the first person out there to look for bare-chested photos of Peter Jennings. Why did you suggest that I wanted to see pictures of him smoking? Now, in addition to making me feel like a creepster, you’ve smoldered my fantasy a little bit.”

In an open letter to the grown ass man who asked me if I run track,

“So….if, considering my body type you think that I’m young enough to run track somewhere, it was probably ¬†on the shady side for you to try to engage me in conversation. It was definitely out of line when you suggested that you needed someone to work out with.”

In an open letter to her brain,

“You know the kind of guy that your friends think you shouldn’t hang out with? The kind that makes them demand a just-so-I-know-you-got-home-call? You are the brain equivalent of that; I don’t know if I should be left alone with you.”

In an open letter to the saxophonist from the Hall and Oates concert,

“You reminded me of both Bill Clinton and Dumbledore. This left me erotically confused.”

In an open letter to the woman walking across campus with a confident strut and the comfortable looking pants,

“Bravo. You look like you know how to live. Those pants looked so comfortable, yet stylish. I wonder if that’s the secret to the bright bounce in your step. Your panties, however, did not look so comfortable. I wonder if that’s the secret to the bright bounce in your step.”

In an open letter to the friendly man who sat next to me at the Hall and Oates concert,

“I suspect that the reason you started talking to me is because you felt bad that I was there by myself. It was a little weird how you kept leaning over though putting your upper side in contact with mine to tell me how much your wife was into the concert, but that you were not. I couldn’t help but notice, however, how many of the song lyrics you knew. I also think that it was super weird that you asked me if I felt better after I came back from the bathroom.”

In an open letter to the woman in very short shorts and fishnet stockings,

“If this were a Nelly concert I would think you were thematically dressed, letting it fall out and all. If this were Morris Day and the Time I would think you were paying Homage.”

In an open letter to the lady in the drugstore buying allergy medicine and condoms,

“Please tell me these two items are not related to each other.”

In an open letter to the three men who managed to take up the entire very wide sidewalk with their slow, loose-jointed walk,

“Did y’all have to train in order to achieve this? Is there a particular technique you use?”

In an open letter to a self who realized that her tunic was caught in her backpack leaving her hind quarters kinda exposed,

“Yeah, so the exclaiming at yourself, ‘Great. Everything’s hanging out now!’ in a somewhat audible tone probably was not the best move.”