“You have got to take a break. The things you thought on Friday are still with us today. I think that you should be forced to wear a scarlet J because your thoughts are, at times, quite ungenerous. Work on this, okay? In the meanwhile, please continue to keep those most vile thoughts to yourself. […]
Author: sherlonya
In an open letter to Salt N Pepa,
“I know this is the last thing that you want to hear, but this is something that plagues me. You know that part in ‘None of Your Business’ when you sing, ‘…and you shouldn’t even get into who I’m givin’ skins to?” You know what I see in my mind each and every time I […]
In an open letter to the goose I saw running parallel to the road the other day,
“I saw you on Monday. It is Thursday and I still think about you a few times a day. Why were you running? Where were you going? There was something so funny about seeing the way your body moved back and forth. I had to look at you again as you disappeared from my rear […]
In an open letter to her paranoia,
“Okay, it’s time to stop bombarding me with all of the horrible things that one could easily do to me if they just swiped my glasses. The scenario is different each time, and just as scary as the last. Stop doing this to me.”
In an open letter to the lyricists of very explicit songs,
“I know that everything isn’t for everybody, but I just have to say that I prefer euphemisms in my music to gritty and sometimes gross realism.”
In an open letter to her near-sightedness,
“There is no other time when you frighten me more than when I need to use a seam ripper.”
In an open letter to Netflix,
“You suggested that I like ‘cerebral political documentaries’ as well as ‘feel-good reality shows.’ While I am disturbed by the number of times the word cerebral has come into my life describing me or my tastes, I am starting to feel like you know me.”
In an open letter to the khaki-colored man she saw walking down the street,
“Excuse me for thinking that you were walking down the street wearing a home-fashioned red and blue striped loin cloth. I now know that it was your shirt tucked into the front of your pants. Turns out that just a few weeks ago, I saw a man walking down the street wearing nothing but his […]
In an open letter to herself at three in the morning,
“We are by no means starving. Please do not wake me up again because you say we’re hungry. Can’t you convert some of our excess thigh meat into energy or something?”
In an open letter to herself at three in the morning,
“We are by no means starving. Please do not wake me up again because you say we’re hungry. Can’t you convert some of our excess thigh meat into energy or something?”