“Y’alls legs look like hot dogs.”
Author: sherlonya
In an open letter to the adult who asked my son about my relationship status,
“Nope. Not acceptable at all. I wish I had seeded him with an inappropriate canned answer. You know, something you’d remember for the rest of your live. Maybe something involving aliens. Aliens and worms.”
In an open letter to her past-self,
“Why the heck is there a shot glass in the back seat pouch in our car?”
In an open letter to the man who helped me buy a replacement key for my car,
“When I came back to pick up my key, you told me that everything was waiting for me at the cashier. I was a little surprised when you walked me over there. I was more surprised when you stood there during the duration of the transaction. I wasn’t so surprised when you shook my hand, […]
In an open letter to my dear friend who is in a bad mood,
“Please know that if I could take your bad mood and babysit until it decided to act right again, that I would happily do that for you. But, alas, I can’t. Instead, I hope that the idea of a bad mood being like a naughty puppy cheers you up just a smidge.”
In an open letter to the woman who tripped and unknowlingly dropped her baggie of weed,
“Um, I think you should have thanked me, especially since this is the one time in my life I’ve had a bag of pot in my hand.”
The Dating Project: A Beginning and Some Ground Rules
Dudes. Dating is weird. It’s like interviewing people for a super personal job. Sort of. Writing about it in a place where anyone could look at it is also weird. But, alas, writing is how I think, and I’ve decided that I want to document my experiences. Now, first things first, I fully intend to… Continue reading The Dating Project: A Beginning and Some Ground Rules
In an open letter to my period tracking app,
“Please do not ever again announce to the barista that I will soon be fertile. I don’t think he needed that information as I simply tried to pay for my drink using another app….”
In an open letter to the tattooed wrist and generous quantity of charm bracelets,
“What the fuck are you yelling for??
In an open letter to the man I danced with a couple ago fresh out of a 6 year relationship,
“I really wish I would have asked you to repeat yourself when you said whatever you said about knowing how to dance with black girls. Not knowing what you said haunts me a little. I also regret that your hands handled my waist.”