Snail Mail Sunday (Done on a Monday) #6

Dear blogosphere,

Do this!

Bloggers, stand up and be counted! Take the “Public and Private in the Blogosphere” Survey!

Thanks!

K.

Snail Mail Sunday #5

Dear refrigerator,

Hey there. Now, I know that went shopping not that long ago. I have the receipts to prove it.

So where the hell did my food go?

You had better be a portal to hell or something, or else I'm going to dismantle you to see what you did with my cheese.

Don't tempt me.

Yours,

K.

Snail Mail Sunday (You Guessed It) #4

Dear cleaning faeries,

This is just a notice to alerting you to your termination in apartment 8 of this complex. The tenant of said apartment complained of your absence upon her return from winter break. Her apartment was just as disgusting as when she left it, leading us to believe that you are not doing your job.

You can pick up your severance pay in the main office.

Sincerely,

Management

Snail Mail Sunday (Done on a Monday... again) #3

Dear blog,

I know that after NaBloPoMo you thought our relationship was going to be different. You felt loved and warm while I was posting everyday and there were occasional comments to snuggle into. And I guess it was a rough awakening into to the cruel, cold world when I promptly resumed my old habits of maybe one post per week... on good weeks. It must have hurt.

I'm sorry for my absence, but you knew what this relationship was from the beginning. Sometimes I'm too busy/tired/lazy to post anything for days at a time, leaving you so alone. You're probably wondering if I have more than one blog, little topic-specific hoochies on the side. Well, I did, for a little. Honestly, they meant nothing to me. I haven't even posted in them since the semester ended. I only did it because people (ie. my class) expected me to have something of a trophy blog, something to present in social situations. I'm afraid that you just weren't up to par for that sort of thing.

The worst part for you is that I only seem to come back when I need comfort or to vent. I never buy you new things; I rarely update you sidebar widgets. But when I don't have anyone else to talk to, you're there. And I appreciate that. You don't hear about the good things, my triumphs, but you always listen and I guess that's what makes you such a good blog.

All I can ask is that you stick with me for a little while longer... at least until I get my life in order. I'll try my best to be the best poster you ever did see and to treat you with the respect you deserve. You know I love you, baby.

Hugs and kisses,

K.

Snail Mail Sunday (Done on Monday) #2

Dear Big, Fun, and Scary Goals 2008,

As I always need something to do in life, I've decided to join your noble crew. Here's my list for BSF 2008 awesomeness.

• Actually attempt NaNoWriMo 2008, not just sign up for it and lose courage before writing a single word.
• Learn enough Hebrew to puttering around in Israel this summer and be conversational by year's end.
• Save money for a Scotland spring break. If I don't actually get to Scotland, then at least I have some money.
• Graduate college.
• Get a temporary job-- preferably with health insurance.
• Send something to get published. Poem, short story, essay, anything.
• Lose 10 pounds. Any more would be icing on the cake that I won't be allowing myself to have. :)
• Read 17 books from the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die Spreadsheet. Apparently, I need to read 17 a year in order to complete all 1001, so, here's the beginning.
• Get my finances in order.

BSF 2008, I hope I'll be able to complete all the goals I set out for this year. 'Cause I want to win, dammit.

Yours truly,

K.

Snail Mail Sunday #1

(The United States Postal Service may be off on Sundays, but that doesn't mean that I can't still write a letter.)

Dear Christmas shoppers (specifically those on Rt. 30 within Lancaster proper),

First, let me wish you a felicitous holiday season. Normally, I'm incredibly annoyed by this point in the year. The Christmas muzak all over the radio and in drugstore has a tendency to wear on my nerves. I honestly don't know how you all can stand it. Is there a gene that makes a constant repetition of "Little Drummer Boy" bearable? Or is it sheer strength of mind? Whatever it is, I envy you. Oddly enough, by staying inside for most of December, I've managed to avoid any sort of Christmas input. So, for once, I am-- dare I say it?-- jolly. Ho. ho. ho.

But that's not what this letter is about. No, I'm really taking time out of my busy schedule to ask you what the hell you all were about on Rt. 30 tonight. I understand that, in the old days, you needed to drive out to shops to snag the perfect Christmas gift, even if you screwed yourself over by procrastinating. But, Christmas shoppers, we have the internet now, with store open 24/7. You can any sort of anything on this wonderful web of ours. With this in mind, I must ask you to show some sense from now on and not venture out on stormy nights for those last minutes gifts, especially if I'm trying to get home. You see, I normally wouldn't have been out at all, but my fridge at school needed to be cleaned, lest I come back from break to find a puddle of veggie mush seeping on to my kitchen floor. My drive back was not pleasant, people. With all of your lane-changing foolishness and general rudeness on the road, I arrived home and had to pry my fingers from the ten-and-two position with my feet. I don't believe that I have blinked at all in the last hour.

My friends, I am not asking for anything outrageous-- just that you vacate an entire highway for just an hour while I try to get back home. I'm sure that's not too much trouble. Oh, and while you're at it, a small gift would be nice-- perhaps an Amazon gift certificate? You wouldn't even have to leave the house for that one.

Thanks and much holiday joy to you all,

K.

PS. And for those of you with a more Hebraic persuasion, could I tempt you with this little morsel?