My Letter of the Day

I'm going to pre-post for tomorrow because I wont'...

2006-08-18T20:13:00.000-04:00

I'm going to pre-post for tomorrow because I wont' be able to post cuz I will be terribly busy having more fun than humanly possible.

Dear NYC,

I love you.

And Reid and Caroline, I especially thank you for making this happen.

Love,
lee

Dear John Mark Karr, I don't know if you are guil...

2006-08-18T18:01:00.000-04:00

Dear John Mark Karr,

I don't know if you are guilty of killing JonBenet Ramsey because you seriously seem to be the kind of guy who might admit to a murder you did not commit for some reason completely beyond my comprehension, but either way, there is obviously something wrong with you.

For one thing, you bear more than a striking resemblance to:

and that can't bode well now can it?

And for the record, I'm still pulling for the mom-n-dad because I think any parents who encourage, or even condone, the making up of a little girl to look like this: are deeply suspect of all kinds of bad things, from living vicariously, to pedophilia, to frankly, murder.

But I would like to at least congratulate you for being smarter than Michael Jackson and having the intelligence to live in Thailand, where it is legal to have sex with children. I hope you get convicted of something though, because it doesn't seem like you should be on the streets. If you have had sex with any children, I hope you get "Dahmered" in prison.

Cautiously,

Lee

Dear lawn (and yes, that’s lawn with a little “L”)...

2006-08-16T21:08:00.000-04:00

Dear lawn (and yes, that’s lawn with a little “L”),

Well, it’s mid-August and finally, you are dying. I’d like to think that it was a result of my wicked curses, but alas, I think it’s just because it’s hot and it hasn’t rained for a long time. No matter…I rejoice in your demise! Your dry crackling under my feet gives me nothing but joy.

You may have noticed some of the neighbors watering their lawns. Watch with greedy, desperate eyes, my foe. For you will get no water. I cackle at your scorching thirst. I torture you, just as you torture me in the spring with your insistent growth and constant need of mowing. It is time for you to lie down, stop growing and turn completely brown. Accept your defeat. I dance upon your grave.

We shall meet again in the spring, you dreadful bane of my existence.

Triumphantly,

lee

Dear Mr. Stephen Colbert, I was writing because I...

2006-08-17T20:43:00.000-04:00

Dear Mr. Stephen Colbert,

I was writing because I thought you would like to know that my roommate, Holly, has an exceptionally significant crush on you. Every night, as we sit and watch your show, I have to listen to her. Here are some examples of our enlightening conversations:

Holly: I have such crush on Stephen Colbert!
Me: I know.

Or-

Holly: I just LOVE Stephen Colbert!
Me: Yes, I know.

Or-

Holly: I just think Stephen Colbert is adorable!
Me: Uh-huh.

Or-

Holly: He’s just so funny and cute! Don’t you think?
Me: I think he’s funny but his ear is deformed.

Or-

Holly: Mrs. Stephen Colbert (dreamily)
Me:

Or-

Holly: Mrs. Holly Colbert (distractedly)
Me: Shut up!

Holly: I –
Me: SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!!!

Well I think that sums it up. I think you can easily measure the depth of her feelings for you from these brief snippets. I don’t know if you’re married, although I don’t think she’d mind either way, but if you’re looking for a new girlfriend, I got your woman. She’ll laugh at your every joke and make you feel like a god.

Alternatively, I think she would also be a SPLENDID stalker.

So, in short, it’d be really nice if you could be her boyfriend until she noticed your ear hair. It’d really take a load off.

Expectantly,

Lee

Dear Owen, It really was very nice to meet you at...

2006-08-15T14:20:00.000-04:00

Dear Owen,

It really was very nice to meet you at the club last Friday. And thank you for calling me and leaving the very charming message. When I gave you my number, I had every intention of possibly speaking with you again and getting to know you, I swear! But in the harsh reality of sobriety, I have reverted to my paranoid self and find I am completely incapable of returning your call. While I may have seemed fairly normal that night, I assure you I'm not. See, I'm in a really weird space right now. I've dated a string of nice enough, but completely incompatible men. My repeated attempts to make these inappropriate quagmires work have left me blowing in the wind like a dry corn husk. I am assuming that some day, I will feel confident enough to try again, but for right now, I cannot be trusted. If I thought you were handsome and charming (which I did), it most certainly means that you are probably one or more of the following:

gay and in denial
just on-the-prowl
a married swinger
psychotic

So, again, thank you very much for calling and I'm sorry I'm such a big baby. I'm not grown up enough to date. I wish the best for you.

Regretfully,

lee

On July 29, a hate crime was committed against two...

2006-08-14T10:27:00.000-04:00

On July 29, a hate crime was committed against two gay men. Their Aldie home was vandalized, with not only destruction to their property, but anti-gay messages spray painted across their driveway. Leesburg Today Story

My letter today was going to be to the perpetrators of this crime; intolerant, ignorant and most of all, scared people who are so insecure in their personal convictions that they must attack a gay couple’s residence in order to prove their ardent, zealous love of the heterosexual union. Sorry, it didn’t work. Your fear shows your uncertainty. Your attack shows your instability.

But, I digress. Instead, my letter today goes to Mr. Barry Milton who posted this response in the Reader’s Forum.

Dear Mr. Milton,

I read with distress your post to the Reader’s Forum of the Leesburg Today on August 3, 2006. Your allegation that these men would vandalize their own home in order to “garner sympathy against the very ballot measure they are now blaming the incident on” is mortifying. That they would compromise their own drinking water supply, by pouring gasoline on their lawn seems far-fetched. That they would call attention to their home address so more bigots would know where they live seems mind-boggling.

Not only are your accusations ugly and cruel, you do not even have enough sense to keep such a pitiless opinion to yourself. At the very least, I would think you might let the police complete their investigation before, you, jury and judge of one, level your own uninformed verdict.

I do not know these men, nor am I gay. I feel bad for anyone who has a crime committed against them. I feel even worse if they also have to suffer fools like you. Your views are the same as those who would blame a woman for her own rape because her skirt was too short. I am embarrassed to find that I live in the same county as you. Worse, I am scared.

Confoundedly,

Lee

Dear Mr. Dave Barry, Listen, I know you probably ...

2006-08-13T15:10:00.000-04:00

Dear Mr. Dave Barry,

Listen, I know you probably got tired of trying to write a witty column for our Washington Post Magazine every week, but you have seriously devalued my Sunday. Yes, I know you stopped writing that column at least a year ago now, but I have still not recovered.

Sunday used to be such a joyous occasion. My star-fish robe (in the winter at least), coffee with generous dollops of International Delight Southern Butter Pecan creamer, good conversation…and the Washington Post. Being strictly a “surface” girl, I would scout out the Style section, the Sunday Source, the Loudoun Extra, and most belovedly, the Washington Post Magazine. I skimmed the Source for interesting tidbits, read the Style section word for word (as if anything could help) and the miss-bitchy-pants-letters to the editor in the Loudoun Extra. I always left the Magazine for last, tantalizing myself by self-denial. I always started by finding the Dilbert, which is seriously hit or miss. Then I would turn to the front to read Gene Weingarten. Finally, I would grant myself permission to read the last page. But you are no longer there. Gene’s "Below the Beltway" has replaced you. Don’t get me wrong, I like him and all, but more as a one-two-three punch. Now that you’re not there, it's just a one-two...one-twos are highly overrated.

Without my weekly dose of your absurdity, it’s difficult to get excited about Sunday…which leaves me more resentful about Monday and well, I guess you can see where this is going. Mr. Barry, you have turned a once well-adjusted happy-go-lucky girl into a curmudgeon. Frankly, it’s all your fault.

Grumpily,

lee

Dear Bistro, You may not know this, but you are s...

2006-08-12T10:55:00.000-04:00

Dear Bistro,

You may not know this, but you are some kind of boy-poodle-mix- mutt rescued from the pound. You are NOT Princess Diana reincarnated, or Lindsay Lohan. Quit eating your food and then throwing it up! Or if you insist on doing that, do it outside! I know you think you are special (Princess special), but you get dog food, not ham and cheese croissants. And no, you are not supposed to have warm turkey gravy ladled over your dog food to make it more tasty for your gourmet palate(I noticed you didn't throw that meal up!). You are on my last nerve with your over acting.

With aggravation,

lee

Dear Bistro, You know I love you as much as a per...

2006-08-11T10:55:00.000-04:00

Dear Bistro,

You know I love you as much as a person who doesn't like pets can love a dog. You're very sweet despite being a furry, hole-digging beast. You've got this really nice, big yard in which to poop to your heart's desire and you can go out pretty much anytime you want. So why is it that when I take you for a walk, you insist on pooping two, sometimes three times?! Maybe you aren't aware of my serious poop phobia and that carrying around bags of your poop makes me want to kick you until you are dead.

Sincerely,

Lee