1/28/08
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.
xoxo
Monday, January 28, 2008
Stupid McSweaty
1/28/08
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,
me
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,
me
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Intervention
1/15/08
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.
xoxo
me
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.
xoxo
me
A Keynote Announcement
1/15/08
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,
me
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,
me
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....
xoxo
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....
xoxo
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.
xoxo
me
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.
xoxo
me
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Sigh
1/3/08
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,
me
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,
me
The Holiday Dial
Husband:
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.
xoxo
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.
xoxo
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