They say that writing letters is a lost art. Well, not for me. Watch as I write these very important letters, which I even send to my dogs. Then tell me, to whom are you going to send a letter? Chop chop!
Stop trying to take over my life. I’m on to you and you know exactly what I mean.
Creating all these stellar shows and forcing me to binge watch, because we both know that one isn’t enough. Frankly, shows like “Orange is the New Black” and your latest one, “Bloodline,” are so good I can’t tear myself away. What’s up with Florida, anyway? It’s ripe with deviants, I’ll tell you what. Certainly not a promotional tourism ad for Key West, I’ll tell you that. Heck, I love the stuff. Even, Ricky Gervais’ series, “Derek.” That show tugs at the heartstrings like nobody’s business. So thank you. Thank you, very much!
Do us all a favor and turn yourself in. I didn’t see what happened but rolling through a stop sign instead of coming to a full stop is wrong. And, in front of an elementary school?? Seriously? You hit a boy and now he’ll never be the same. Now, do the right thing, and fess up. You won’t be able to live with your conscious otherwise. It’s time to come clean.
Dear Father Time,
You’re moving too fast. Thanks to you, the day barely gets going and next thing you know the sun is setting. And gosh darn it, it happens every day! What’s up with that? I think it’s time you put mom at the helm, she’ll know to slow down so we have enough time to smell the daisies, enjoy the moment and sing a joyful song. Oh, and still have time for a nap or two.
I’m on to you, kiddo. Every morning as I prepare to leave for the office, I see you slowly make your way to the door to the garage, acting all nonchalant as you stealthily wait in the shadows, under the dining room table, for the right moment to plunge right into the garage and into the car. What for? To go to work with me? No can do, little guy. The office is no place for a rapscallion like you. 😉
Every time I look at you I’m racked with guilt. You’re the one who didn’t want to go for a walk. Stubborn as an ox, you are. So yes, I pulled on your leash to get you going and what did you do? Ram your little face into a lamp pole. And now, you’ve got a scratch in your eye, you’re taking eye drops three times a day and, in order to stop you from rubbing your eye, you must wear a silly cone head—which is a far cry from the royal crown you usually wear. And me? I am a tortured soul. Mea culpa, Henry, mea culpa.
Dear Hand Shaker,
Why do we still shake hands when we first meet? I mean, does the word, “cooties” mean anything to you? Frankly I don’t want yours, seeing how I pride myself on not getting sick and want to keep it that way. So keep your hands in your pockets and don’t give me your Ebola, the flu or whatever it is you have. Don’t you understand that this custom of shaking hands was created long before anyone knew of germs and disease?? Now, where’s the sanitizer?
Dear What Was I Thinking,
I never throw dinner parties. I don’t have time for that. Yet for some reason, I decide to plan a small, intimate dinner party for just a few folk. Next thing I know I’ve turned party of six it into a catered affair for more than 20! What was I thinking and who put those crazy thoughts in my head?? Clearly it was you. Entrapment, that’s what I say!
Dear Expressions of Yore,
Why don’t we say “jeepers creepers” anymore? Ditto for “bee’s knees,” “life of Riley” and “everything’s groovy.” If we’re going to do away with them because they’re evocative of another time then they deserve to be on display in a museum like the Smithsonian. After all, they’re fun to say and so descriptive, too. Like a frolic in the woods. By the way, I think you’re the cat’s pajamas. That’s all.
Dear Mindy Kaling,
Thank you for making one of the best, funniest TV series around. I know you wanted “The Mindy Project” to have the feel of one of those Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks romantic comedies, channeling the sparkling wit and wisdom of Nora Ephron. Well, you’ve succeeded and them some. Each half-hour episode feels like a mini rom-com and I find myself lost in the frothy parfait that it is, cheering you on every step of the way. You’re my kind of girl, Mindy, and I love that you’re a woman of color, making it big in the Hollywood industry. Mindy and Danny rock! And anyone who doesn’t believe me, should watch this clip: