Tuesday, August 14, 2012


Dear Hips,
You and I like a different type of man.

Dear Heart,
"Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom" not "AHHHHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHHHHH"

Dear Instagram Couple,
A haiku: 
through your photographs
we witness the start/end of
I fucking love you

Dear Instagram,
Also known as brunch recorder.

Dear Rosa,
Here, this is your Instagram. Document your life visually. That way in the future when you try to forget about 'ol "what's his name" you won't be able to. He'll live right here in your account, wearing that sweater you bought him, holding that Starbucks cup, filling up at the gas station for all of eternity. Nowhere to hide Rosa, nowhere to hide.

Dear Waitress,
Come over one more time and ask me how everything is going, my story isn't the same without you.

Dear Parking Security,
You weren't able to answer my question the first time, you couldn't decipher the map in my hands, you are barely alive. And yet turned on by your zest to be help, I stand here in thousand degree weather, marveling at your inability to answer the question "where are we right now?"

Dear Juggalos,
The message is sound. It is the sound of the message -hollered through Faygo rot- that only seems to say "you are not fucking safe here." Alas, whoop whoop.

Dear Karaoke,
Thank you for being the medium through which dreams may simultaneously begin and die.

Dear Citizen Cope,
Please open your mouth a little bit more.

Dear Momager,
Oh no way! You're daughter is multifaceted AND undiscovered? I'm gonna stop you right there while I make a phone call to Hollywood because I have the power to launch her career and it totally works this way!

Dear Momager,
OK good, because my next question was: "Is her name Cassidy?"

Dear Gigi,
Yours is the most licked pussy in our bed.

Dear Gigi,
Because I refer to my bed as 'our bed.'

Dear Summer,
Ooooh you make me sooo wet [under my breasts, above my lip, around my knees, on my ears?]

Dear Jesse Plemons,
You can Friday night my lights anytime. Just move my clean landry off the bed and we'll touch down. Nah mean?

Dear Older Men,
Young women leave you because you are unnecessarily upset at their unfamiliarity with Public Enemy.

Dear Older Men,
Saying "before your time" is the quickest way for us to run out of time.

Dear Gilt Groupe,
Keep those emails coming! I'm going for a complete set.

Dear Economy,
"Create a job!" is the new "Get a job!"

Dear Reunitors - Class of 2003,
I have so many questions for you! For starters: HOW YA LIKE ME NOW?

Dear Flo The Progressive Lady,
You are now the bouffont of tragedy and corruption.

Dear Reader,
What's the difference between a musician and a comedian? Find out every Tuesday night 9pm @ Room Room!

Dear PostSecret,
I have a painful secret, will you let everyone know for me?

Dear Reader,
Yes my father passed…the bar exam, haha! No really, he's dead.

Dear Reader,
The entry above should explain all you need to know about me.

Dear Daddy,
Daaad! Go away!! You don't have to watch down over me all the time! UGH! SO EMBARRASSING! 

Monday, August 6, 2012

Tha Raturn

Dear Aaliyah (ft. Timbaland),
I wish you hadn'ta left us, left us, without a dope beat to step to, step to, step to, step to.

Dear Mom,
I don't do "chores" I'm on fucking TV.

Dear Aspiring Actors Moving To LA,
Honestly your biggest fear should be moving into a haunted apartment. Old Hollywood, whattup!

Dear Children,
The Greeks have opa! The Latins have ¡olé! The Juggalos have whoop whoop!

Dear Cancer,
Don't you observe holiday hours? Fuck, just let my dad walk up the stairs!

Dear Mom,
I didn't come here to see the dachshunds. I came here to eat chips and argue, and I'm all outa chips...and arguments...alright give me your shitty little dogs.

Dear Rick Moranis,
You're like the dad I never had to blow me up into bigger. Meaning, inspiration.

Dear Guy At Amoeba,
You lost me at "live."

Dear Guy At Amoeba,
You lost me at "Earth" "Wind" and "Fire." You lost me at all of those.

Dear Chik-fil-a,

Dear Debbie: Macy's Cashier,
I know I swiped my iPhone and not my debit card, I know I did that.

Dear Gigi,
I see the "_____ days without an accident" board is no longer incentive.

Dear Gigi,
Of House Salazar

Dear Rap Career,

Dear Mom,
If silence is golden, you're as poor as I'd be if I had a nickel for every time I heard silence around you.

Dear Men,
You're gonna like high-waisted things now.

Dear Rappers,
A lady on the street and an Area 51 mutant in the bed.

Dear Solar Power,
Move over for my new energy source: The Universe. No need to bolt panels onto your roof to harness energy- just fuckin' ask.

Dear Maroon 5,
Mick Jagger is rolling over in his grave.

Dear Flirty Bartender,
I draw the line at certified bartender.

Dear Neighbor,
Ha, yea, maybe it is funny that I subscribe to the New Yorker. But you know what isn't funny? The climate crisis that is having a disastrous effect on corn crops. But you probably read all about that because you can [probably] read!

Please handle my clothes while they are still wet, I love that.


Dear Warwick Davis,
In short, I love you.

Dear Rappers,
You can use this lyric:
I got the game in a headlock, wrapped up like a dread lock.
You can keep your career. Up to you.

Dear My Sister's Boyfriend,
That's it! You have convinced me to watch every single Final Destination movie based on your theory that all 5 films ''tie together in a awesome way.''

Dear Jerk-Off,
You are what you beat.

Dear Music Snob,
Konono No., of course you aren't a-Noi-ing.

Dear Body,
This is what David Bowie was taking about in "Changes" and also (weirdly enough) "Ashes to Ashes."

Dear Public,
Restaurant + you = Shoes + feet.

Dear Shitty Friend,
Don't you worry, I'm only gaining success in order for you resent me. So see, it's still all about you!

Dear David Bowie,
You should win an academy award for your work as Michael Fassbender.

Dear Women's Gymnastics,
Are you men's gymnastics?

Dear Gotye,
Getye self another song.

Dear Reader,
It's been a long time...

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Womynced Words

Dear Reader,
If you want to know what it feels like to try and save a dying plant, buy a Malm from Ikea.

Dear Fruit Flies,
So you just disappear, huh?

Dear Neighbor,
You may know about the fights we have, but we know about the breaks you take during sex.

Dear Female Gender,
Stop re-introducing yourself to the world, it's un-womanly to be so brash. And comb your goddamn hair.

To The Person Who Takes Pictures Of Food,
You think a Sudanese child is thinking "damn, I can't wait til I have a plate of food so I can take a picture of it."

To The Person Who Takes Pictures Of Food,
More interesting would be a photo of the end result, no?

To The Person Who Takes Pictures Of Food,
Perhaps you suffer from anorexia? Perhaps the picture taking is a ruse that buys you some time before that disgusting act called "eating."

Dear Tow Truck Guy,
A quadriplegic dwarf walks with his head higher than yours.

Dear Doctor Redundant,
"Don't smoke cigarettes, drink plenty of water, wear SPF 50 or higher, never use hands when giving a blow job, exercise." blah blah blah

Dear Barista,
Your title is not annoying, your bandanna is not annoying, your milk heart is not annoying.

Dear Aggressive Egg Donation Facility,
I'm no chicken in a cage, unable to turn around or open my wings to their true span potential. I'm just a girl with some healthy follicles trying to buy a car.

Dear Mom,
From whale watching to that horrible lesbian neighbor that keeps calling the cops on your dogs -Oh, the places we'll go in this conversation!

Dear Mom,
But seriously, that woman's marriage is a total sham.

Dear Landlord,
I apologize for being late on the rent. You see, I've been high on toxic paint fumes ever since I moved in, did I mention I'm a lemur secretariat?

Dear Body,
I suppose eighth grade is as good a time as any to cease expansion.

Dear Former Generation,
Men would turn into women and women would turn into cartoons.

Dear Latinas Everywhere,
You are not the red lipstick you wear.

Dear Dad,
This isn't another one of my lies, or another one of my tricks... You really are '#1 Dad.'

Dear Grandma,
Thank you for sending me a check of twenty five dollars every Christmas for as long as I can remember. The money is nowhere near as important as the consistency.

Dear Grandma,
That $25 is worth $500,000 in adorable (and Vietnamese đồng).

Dear Yelpers,
With the advent of sites like Yelp, I no longer want to hear anyone's opinion on anything. I'm opinioned -out. But, while we're on the subject (trust me I NEVER do this) -I had the WORST service EVER the other day. Look, all I know is that my english muffin took FOR-EVER to come out! I mean I understand that it's BRUNCH, and I UNDERSTAND that it's busy, but it takes like 2 seconds to toast a muffin. I will not be going back unless this place DRASTICALLY improves their SERVICE. Oh AND the PARKING. UGH.

Dear Bookstore Flirt,
I'm not buying this book to impress you. I am buying this book to read it, then to prop up one side of my dining room table.

Dear Moms,
Sneak peek at my parenting book 'What To Expect When Your Expectations Are Dashed'
Chapter 1: How to glorify having two bedrooms!
Chapter 2: How to ensure your child is the last kid standing at YMCA's aftercare program!

To The Grown Men Fighting At The Dog Park,
If what they say is true -that dogs are like their owners- then those doggies most definitely beat their doggie wives.

Dear Women Everywhere,
The Women's Rights Movement -the "movement" now refers to historical women rolling over in their graves every time you utter the word "adorbs."

To The Person Who Says 'Nuff Said!',
At least you're finished.

Dear Elton John,
I guess when you have platinum health insurance, doctors have names such as "Sugar Bear." Further proof that the upper echelon is a fantastical place.

Monday, March 7, 2011

California L'œuf

Dear All,
The truth of California is hiding under Jason Mraz's fedora.

Dear 1st Stick Shift Ever,
Yeah, I feel so much more bad-ass now- $850/replacement clutch kind of bad-ass.

Dear Strange Sex Subjects,
I am always weary when you have pets.

Dear Acutane,
I will sell that cone baby. If you think I don't have interested buyers, then you don't know about Craigslist.

Dear LA,
I would take back those hours I've wasted trapped on the freeway, even if they came back as hours spent talking to Kirk Douglas.

Dear TV,
More shows on the subject of Hoarding, please. Here are a few ideas I'm pitching, if I may:
"Towel Hoarders: Too clean"
"Sunglasses Hoarders: Blinded"
"Kid Hoarders: Damn, we got way too many kids"
"Hungry Hungry Hoarders: Too hungry to hoard"
"Ikea Hoarders: This shit is mad cheap, son!"

Dear Mom,
No more "enter-to-wins." Your repeated failure is causing us to doubt your ability to provide, subsequently tearing this family apart.

Dear LA and NY,
Car flirting is harder and more skill-based than train flirting. Try the whole "just happened to be spacing out on a hottie" in a car... you will crash and die, and so will they.... so will they.

Dear Sucky Life,
Sorry, no suicide this week, I have two heavily anticipated Netflix coming in the mail.

Dear Sucky Life,
If you put cookies in the freezer, they make a nice frozen treat. It's cool cause... they're normally room temperature, but it's fun to eat them cold you know?

Dear Vegas,
I have no desire to go to Vegas.

Dear Rihanna,
Stop yelling at me.

Dear Rihanna,
It's Rihanna.

Dear Reader,
Time for my annual drive across the country, or as I like to call it "Cinnabon Tour."

Dear Jesus,
First to be apologized to after incarceration AND first to be thanked after an Oscar win. You wear so many hats!

Dear God,
1. Would I have to commit a crime to find you?
2. If so, how heinous a crime?

Dear Natalie Portman,
You were really great in Black Swan. Your portrayal of a woman giving an Oscar-worthy performance was riveting.

Dear Boyfriend,
When we moved in together I thought we'd have sex day-in and day-out. It feels more like day-out and day-in, and that's just not what I signed up for.

Dear Friend,
I need to throw something away, I looked under the sink but I didn't find a trash can. You keep your trash can out, next to the fridge? The trash can in my house is under the sink, in front of the wine.

Dear Condoms,

Monday, October 11, 2010

Wrench Vogue

Dear The Wire,
Of all the shows on television you were the scariest, and yet, the most true to life.

Dear IHOP[E],
As in: "I hope the shade of lipstick on my coffee mug is a shade I won't mind wearing", "I hope I can decipher what my waitress is saying this time", "I hope I get out of here alive", "I hope they accept both of my coupons so I won't have to pay in two bills."

Dear IHOP[E],
If you're worried about the acronym, the "E" could stand for "Et cetera" as in: International House Of Pancakes Etc... yes it does it makes sense.

Dear Tap Dancers,
You must be so angry at how easy it is to fake-tap dance.

Dear Identity Thief,
I snort when I laugh when I fart, I date down, my mother is balding, I hold my pee for dangerously long periods of time, I wipe from back to front, entering sweepstakes is my current day job, I have upper lip hair, I never learned "loop, swoop, and pull", I suffer from crippling night terrors... I'd think twice.

Dear Girl On Train,
Either you don't know that your foundation is way too dark for your complexion, or you're racist.

Dear Reader,
Rose Byrne is a lesson that teaches us that when we raise the cheekbones on the face, we lower the bar on acting.

Dear Improv Nerd,
You realize, you talking about a scene is like hearing a fat person talk about a meal.

Dear Reader,
Valley of the Dolls (alone) is a movie.
Valley of the Dolls (with a gay man) is a musical with commenTerry.

Dear Childhood Bully,
Stop stealing people's shit and focus on your studies or you'll grow up to be a blogger.

Dear Younger Bully Rosa,
Ever eaten lunch (PB&J) in the break room (bedroom) alone (alone)? Well, that's your future if you don't wise up and play nice. And stop giving mom such a hard time- baldness is hereditary, and it is unfortunate.

Dear Ricky Martin,
You say Menudo and I say Manado. Let's call the whole thing off!

Dear Birth Control,
Thank you, I am having a good breasts day. Consequently, so is my boyfriend.

Dear Reader,
No, I don't have a boyfriend. Boyfriends are for girls who have no self-esteem, or ambition, or eczema...

Dear The Social Network,
Congratulations, I will now stop referring to you as "facebook movie".

Dear Andrew Garfiled,
I'll Never Let your "Wuardo" Go... if you know what I'm implying.

Dear Andrew Garfield,
That was gross. I'm ashamed, I apologize. Let me buy you a drink.

Dear All Who Wish To Go As Blackface For Halloween,
Of course it is easy not to get offended when you aren't black, but even easier not to get offended when you have a sense of humor.

Sunday, September 12, 2010


Dear Macrobiotic Diet,
I hear you can bore Cancer to death.

Dear 2-Week Sex Spell,
After this I am less Tigress, and more lolcat. I can wear Fwuit of da Woom?

Dear Daddy,
Thanks to genetics, I'll always be your little girl.

I haven't tweeted in a while due to the fear of being rejected, potentially losing followers, and possibly get hurt. #twitterroyale

See, nobody likes my last tweet (nobody likes Fascism).

Dear Haters,
"No air", "Crawl", "I can transform ya" #actualchrisbrownsongsinspiredbyactualchrisbrownlifestories

Dear Dreary-Ass Weather,
The only reason you're here, is to remind me of what a pussy I am for not holding out on getting an a.c unit. Especially since I got one so very late in the game, now with every gust of wind I hear "264.18 bones on electriiiiic".

Dear Jonathan Schwartz,
You are the "American..............

Dear Taco Bell,
What the fuck is with your fluxuating bread situation. I got news for you, it ain't the bread, it's the Grade F meat. The only time I ever get as hungry as I get political is when I smoke weed, and sit in a car at Taco Bell. While stoned in this Parking Lot, I pass the time creating DJ names for myself such as "DJ Parking Lot Politician", "DJ Prinicipal Taco Bellding" , "DJ 7 Player Burrito" (no homo).

Dear John Mayer,
My body is actually a winter wonderland. #memberwhenjohnmayerwasgettingalotofattention?

Dear TMI Victim,
Veronica Mars is to me, what Madonna is to a gay, what Stephen Hawking is to a nerd, what Dolly Parton is to my Dad. #hotblondidols

Dear Ex Boyfriends That I've Taken Clothes From,
You know I only did it for the deal.

Dear Reader,
Whenever I refer to "hand-me-downs" I am referring to clothes procured from past lovers -not my older brother -that is fucking gross.

Dear Cab Driver,
I'm pretty sure it isn't "bright eyed girl" okay?

Dear Reader,
When I was 9 years old I lost a bet to my brother about a certain song lyric and am too embarrassed to tell it to you in the right context.

Dear Reader,
You know how like, you about to take your dog out, and you can't leave the house because the way your jacket is scrunching up in the front makes it look like vagina? Me too!!!!

(See "Dear Jonathan Schwartz")

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Bitter Fatter Wronger

Dear Facebook,
You know that game where you get a pad of paper and make a list of all the people you've slept with? Thanks for generating one online,very green of you.

Dear Jesse Eisenberg,
2008: The poor man's Michael Cera.
2010: Jesse Eisenberg.
Well done.

Dear Stevie Wonder,
Sure, you can say "this is mine you cant take it" but who's to say they don't tip toe?

Dear Taekwondo,
Maybe I only achieved white belt because Melissa Connors said I was so small I looked like carry-out. In summation, that's a dumb outfit.

Dear Melissa Connors,
Horse stance, your favorite position as a kid.
Latitudinal Horse Stance, your favorite position as a whore.

Dear Word,
No yous can express, I give you my you, you up!, yousmith, yous with friends, The L You.

Dear Lady Friends,
Taking a Plan B pill in anticipation of "uh-oh!" sex is like putting braces on baby teeth.
Remember: always after (unless you'd like to know what baby teeth are all about).

Dear Bacne,
I'll be bacne (like Arnold, ha) ...but seriously I've tried foaming cleansers, dermabrasion...

Dear Fat Person,
When you say: "this weather is perfect!"
I: grab a sweater.

Dear Notorious B.I.G,
Up until now I had no idea you were making a profound statement. I thought "Mo' Problems" was the sequel to "Mo' Money" and I'm disappointed.

Dear Netflix,
I love the movie Searching For a Movie on Netflix but can only seem to find it If I smoke weed before I sign in.

Dear Netflix,
...and of course after I reset my password, because you know I forgot my secret question's answer.

Dear Reader,
How much weed could a Kid Cudi smoke if a Kid Cudi could smoke weed? For answer, refer to album entitled Man on The Moon: The End of Day.

Dear Latina Girls,
So, what would you like to be when you grow out?

Dear Brooklyn,
I can go out of town and rest assured my dog will be able to feed on roaches, silverfish, weave and chicken bones. Brooklyn: a real Horn & Horn for dogs!

Dear Rosa,
Why don't you spend more time writing and less time customizing your Xbox avatar.

Dear Rosa,
You took your Xbox apart, this does not mean you can tell people you're a mechanic.

Dear Birth Control,
Because of you not only do I know which day of the week it happens to be, I also know that whatever day it is, it won't be ruined.

Dear 25,
I hope you can handle as many snacks as 24 because I have no intention of limiting my intake, or South Beach-ing, or Atkins-ing, or bulimia-ing.

Dear M&M On The Floor,
The saddest part, is that I fell asleep while debating to pick you up. The greatest part, is that now I am well rested and can fully appreciate you. The weird part, is that I haven't left this room for 9 days... oh well! MELTS IN YOUR MOUTH!

Dear Guyz,
I used to be white guy territory but thanks to a rich Peruvian influence on my physique, I'm moving into black guy territory faster than you can say "neck tattoo wit his name!"