Wednesday, April 2, 2008

This or That


Dear Husband,

If you're an aspiring singer/musician, which do you think is better for your career?

To win American Idol or to have your song on an Apple commercial?

What Husband? I know!
That's what I thought too - I'm a mac fan myself.

sigh...we're sooooo compatible. (forgive the pun)


Thursday, March 20, 2008



Dear Husband,

Guess what. My yoga instructor also teaches a couples class called Let's Fool Around.

What? No I'm not kidding Husband! Wouldn't that be fun?

We're just supposed to bring our matts and our "sense of humor". Hahaha. My instructor is so funny. Isn't that great? Laughing together...posing together...gaining the benefits of yoga with your someone special....


I bet you can't wait.

Namaste Husband.


Wednesday, March 19, 2008



Dear Husband,

Spring is almost here, are you excited?? I am. I hope you are not one of those men that put on shorts and sandals upon the first sight of a robin, but that is another story entirely.

And being that drinking is often connected with warm weather, I thought that now would be a good time to introduce you to my Levels of Hangover.

On a scale of 1-5 where 1 is the lowest and 5 is the highest, the following should be carefully noted.

Level 1: Okay. Minimal side effects. Should I take a shower today? Something is just not right, but able to perform all normal daily functions. Ideal hangover for a workday. Cure: Normal black coffee, lots of water.

Level 2: Tummy is not happy initially. Did I drunk-text anyone? Waking up is hard, but typically able to rise around 7-8am. Also good hangover for a workday, but not recommended. Cure: Starbucks Latte, water.

Level 3: Not good. Why was there so much drinking? Tummy is unhappy, accompanied by puffy eyes and puffy face. Possible vomiting. Reserve said hangover for weekends only if possible. Cure: Starbucks Latte, Selzter water, some sort of big unhealthy meal around 1pm.

Level 4: Bad. Vomiting for sure. Bartender, I thought that was juice I was drinking! Not getting up for most of the morning. Talking is unacceptable. Blinds are drawn. Cure: Emergency Diet Coke, dry toast, sleep, real food around 4pm.

Level 5: Stupid. Vomiting ad nauseum. Zzzzzzzzzz. Cure: Not drinking ever again. ever.

Don't say I didn't warn you Husband.

Friday, February 22, 2008


Dear Husband:

I don't know if you've been following the winter we've been having in this oh so cold and lonely city, but I have taken to puffing exhales of short, measured breath to distract myself from the ice and snow, and I realized earlier today, slightly to my own horror, that this tendency resembles birth breathing, practiced round the county by those too inexperienced to know that they will surely have a cesarean and it is all for naught.

I also realized this evening that the moon has been full for three straight days.

Suffice to say, you really should get here. And no, I am not going to search for you on

That's all.


Thursday, February 21, 2008

Oscar Buzz


Dear Husband,

The Oscars are on this Sunday. Are you going to watch them?

Last year, I watched the blessed event at my neighbor's party. Am still not entirely sure why, as I don't really know my neighbors and I had things to do like wash my hair and rearrange my closet. But I went anyway.

In honor of that gold little statue and thespians in designer outfits, I dressed up, drank like 8 bottles of wine and completely failed my "Oscars Quiz" ( I was never good at standardized tests Husband ). Then, was so dehydrated the next day I considered eating snow on the way to work.

So the moral of my story is, just because Jon Stewart is hosting and "Juno" is nominated for Best Film (heeeey Ellen go girl) does not grant me special drinking priviledges for the evening.

At least that's what I'll keep telling myself.

Nominated for Best Potential Companion in this comedy we call Life,

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Hearts and Such


Dear Husband,

Being that Valentine's Day is almost upon us, I thought I would take this opportunity to write.

Still not having found you, it will be difficult to express my true love in the absence of having an actual protagonist for this love story, but I will do my best. Instead I will compose a list of gifts that would be adequate to give on this special, albeit Hallmark, holiday.

1. Flowers. Specifically tulips or roses. But if you can't remember either of those, any flower will do as I will just be excited to receive something at work that will make my coworkers think I must be a fabulous and deserving Wife. Please try to limit and/or eliminate the amount of fillers, ie: baby's breath (duh)

2. A weekend getaway. Your choice, as long does not involve NASCAR, The Mall of America, or Dollywood. However, I doubt we'd be married if the aforementioned destinations excited you in the least.

3. Jewerly. You know what kind I like Husband. And if you don't, maybe you should stick with flowers.

4. Something memorable of our time together. I will be looking forward to the collection of movie stubs, restaurant receipts, and photos you've stored away over the years. Extra bonus points for things I didn't even remember, but that you cherished most, making you the Ultimate Caring Husband.

That's all for now. Must eat red M&Ms and conversation hearts until I hear from you,

Monday, January 28, 2008

It's Taken Care Of


Dear Husband,

I just thought you should know that most women have the names of their children picked out way before ever meeting their husbands.

So while I will need you there for the necessary creation of said children, upbringing and overall fatherly guidance, I have their informal monikers all figured out. Please do not lose sleep over such matters. You have enough to worry about.


Stupid McSweaty


Dear Husband,

Remember when I thought I saw you and you looked like Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles?

Well I can say with utter confidence that I know now that man is not you.

I was at the gym today and not only did the aforementioned Faux Jake continue to "rock out" to his iPod (see previous letter) he is also That Guy that runs really fast around the indoor track. For a short amount of time. In sequential blasts. Let's not ignore the fact that he also gets all worked up, and huffs and puffs so much that he could potentially blow the house down.

I am so annoyed by him Husband, specifically because I am steady runner, with focus on longevity and distance.

I know I said I'm trying to see the glass half-full in '08, but do you see who I'm working with here?

all my love,

Tuesday, January 15, 2008



Dear Husband,

Do you have any friends with substance abuse problems? I ask because I'm insanely concerned about my best friend.

I'm certain she was drinking heavily the other day because she sent me an Email Forward asking me to "pass on" said email with receipes (yes, as in "cooking") to share with others on the list. It's that or her email account has been hacked by a suburban Smug Married as she is a fantastic Urban Single.

In any event, the first step to asking for help is admitting you have a problem right Husband?

I will tell her you are concerned too.


A Keynote Announcement


Dear Husband,

You may remember me reflecting on my New Year's Resolution in a former letter which was to be Optimistic in '08.

I have found a better theme for the year which is: "Over It".

This allows me to still get slightly upset, but for only for a limited time, as must "get over it" in order to rise like the proper phoenix that I am from life's daily ashes.

Here are some examples:

When I get irritated with people that walk loudly ( like, Clompity-Clomp-Clomp-Clomp-Shut-The-F*ck-Up-Already!)...
2 seconds later and with Zen-like vision - Over It.

When I date a man for a bit and then eventually realize he is a Total-Loser-Needs-To-Grow-A-Pair-Imposter Husband...1 week later and various episodes of Sex & The City under my belt - Over It.

See how grown-up and mature I am Husband?

I will be very easy to get along with in 2008.
Is officially a good time for you to start looking for me.

with love,

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

The Courage to Try Something New

Dear Husband:

Though its not yet spring, you will be happy to know that I have engaged in various acts of household disgorging as we are finally done with the excesses of the holiday season.

R&R jeans that are getting tired must make way for sweater dresses, flashy gold watches and all things Tory Burch. However, you will be happy to know that I am only acquiring modestly as I am trying to reduce my carbon footprint in 2008, while everything I get rid of is going to the lesser-fortunate and lesser-fashionable.

Still, in all this do-gooding and organizing, there was one toss-away that is still bothering me: all of the holiday cards with the shining faces of little children and little families, captured picturesquely in this suburb or that. I would even be slightly melancholy were it not for the pièce de résistance of holiday cards: Husband, someone I used to know slightly had the nerve to send out a holiday card wishing their friends and family, "The Courage to Try Something New in 2008!"

Husband, I trust my life to taxi drivers all the time. My whole life is trying something new. And as if this weren't insulting enough, there was a reply card and a self-addressed stamped envelope asking all aforementioned friends and family to "Write us and tell us a first that you did in 2007," as they apparently, "can't wait to hear what our friends and family have been up to."

Now, husband, I know we don't get into specifics in this forum, but let me tell you plainly: anything that I have done for the first time in my 29th year as an aging single girl in the city is NOT fit for a self-addresses stamped envelope headed for a farm house in the country where children and dogs reside.

While initially indignant, I am rather glad these happily married's took it upon themselves to prove to me once again that I don't actually want to be a smug married. Yet. But husband, promise me we will only send out goofy photos of our children with frosting smeared all over their mis-matched clothing and NO letters or self-addresses stamped envelopes? And I promise you if you would just pop by for a drink I will tell you all of my naughty firsts from 2007....


Monday, January 7, 2008

Full-Frontal Attack

Dear Husband,

I hate Smug Marrieds and football. I hate taking projects at work from someone else. I hate freakishly warm weather in January that causes my apartment to heat up like Miami and prohibit me from sleeping comfortably. I hate having to give my dog like eight baths in one day due to aforementioned weather. I hate engagement stories. I hate the Food Baby in my stomach from eating pizza and popcorn last night.

Ugh. I hate that I am not on permanent vacation.

My hair is dirty and I have to teach dance class tonight despite the fact that I feel like a whale. Do not feel like being bubbly and instructor-like to a group of soccer moms and or accounts-receivable personnel looking to get their sexyback.

I hate wind. I hate traffic and trucks that back slowly into alleyways. My eyes are puffy and I am catching a cold. Could not fall asleep last night and could not wake up this morning.

Ugh. I hate that my boss is back from vacation.


Thursday, January 3, 2008



Dear Husband,

Every time an engagement story gets told, an angel loses its wings.
Or at least it just feels that way lately...

optimistic in '08,

The Holiday Dial


I am really sorry my notes have been sporadic through the holiday season, but you know how it goes; parties, caroling, salvation army bell ringing, reading to the elderly, volunteer gift wrapping for the Humane Society, baking twelve kinds of sugar cookies. It is a busy time.

I did miss you, Husband. Even more so because I kept getting random holiday dials and texts from former beaus. Surely you've heard of drunk dialing and texting, but holiday dialing and texting, while similar, is ever more sinister because it is motivated by emotion, rather than inebriation. Usually what happens, especially in the case of "confirmed bachelors," is that men who otherwise abhor commitment realize at approximately 4:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve that they have no one to share their life with and feelings of sadness and loneliness ensue for roughly 24 hours. During this time, said men are liable to call any and all currents and formers in an attempt to feel connected to anything with breasts and a pulse.

Luckily, husband, it is the one time of year that no girl is caught vulnerable, because girls are inevitably surrounded by friends, family, pets, nieces, homemade candy and lots of booze.

Still, truth be told there was a gentleman whose repeated holiday dials have left me with a bit of an emotional hangover. Not to fret, I am even more determined to have changed my name and forwarding information to Mr. and Mrs. Husband by this time next year: Holiday dialers beware.