sarahb: Correspondence

I've gotten a little bit behind on my correspondence lately, so I thought I'd use this space to catch up. Hope you don't mind.

Dear Thirtysomething Couple on a Blind Date at Enoch's Pub, Monroe, LA, Saturday, February 7, 2004, midnight,

It was great to see you last night! You both look like you are doing pretty well. I especially like how the goatee is working for you, Mr. Male Part of the Couple. I just wanted to drop you a line, though, to let you know that it's ok if you didn't exactly hit it off last night. There's no law that says you have to stay out until midnight on a blind date. I think everyone involved would have been better off if you all had just called it quits after you, Mr. Male Part, leaned back from the table, patted your ample belly, and then, reaching for the check, joked, "Let's see what the damage is." Really, it would have been fine to finish the evening there. Because, well, I just think that would have been better than proceeding on to Enoch's where you would spend that precious last hour of February 7, 2004 discussing your relative ACT scores.

Hope this letter finds you both well!
Sarah.

Dear "You/Her,"

I'm so sorry that it is still six months after I married into your family and I still haven't dealt with the issue of what to call you, you. I'm sorry that when I call you to chat, I have to come up with schticky openers like "Hello, there! It's your new daughter-in-law!" instead of just saying "Hello, Mom" or "Hello, Lucy." I'm sorry that even when I'm under your own roof I have to preface any questions I have with "Hey, you there!" It's unacceptable, I know. I'm going to try to get better on this issue very soon.

Ok, you, I need to get going. I'll tell your son to give his lovely mother a call.

Yours truly,
Your New Daughter-in-Law!

Dear Hamilton Leithouser, Lead Singer for The Walkmen,

It's not that I'm not into you anymore. You're still pretty damn cute, with your indie rock v-neck sweaters. It's just that, see, I'm 28 now, and after 9/11 and all I can't justify listening to 40 minutes of your wailing anymore. You know what I mean? So I guess this is goodbye. Don't feel bad, I had to say goodbye to Unwound, too.

I was also wondering, has anyone ever told you that Jonathan Fire*eater was a seriously epic band? Too bad you missed out on that shit.

Kisses and Hugs,
Sarah.

Dear The Academy,

I'm simply outraged! How could you have overlooked a performance so subtle, so nubile, so very MOVING?! How could you have possibly neglected to nominate Scarlett Johansson's ass for its work in Lost in Translation? Have you ever seen an ass express so much about the fragility of the human condition? Have you ever felt such profound, existential loneliness at the thought of never being able to be part of that ass's life? THAT, my friends, is acting. And if you can't recognize it, well then I feel a deep sadness for you.

Most definitely not thanking the academy at this moment,
Sarah.

Dear Special Ed,

Hi honey! As usual, I've been thinking about butts lately. And you already know that I think yours is pretty much the cat's pajamas. If I could, I'd look at your adorable behind all day long. I wish I could have a Butt Cam streaming video so I could see how cute your tookus is at work while you write all those sexy legal briefs. But, sweetie? It'd probably be a good idea if you didn't sit down in EXACTLY THE SAME PLACE on the couch every single day. Your butt print on our couch is beginning to take on some sort of religious significance, like the Virgin Mary appearing in a tortilla.

Thanks, pal!
Your loving wife.

Dear Grammy Producers,

Just a quick note to say thanks for reminding me to not do drugs. Just the other day I was thinking "Dude, I could really use some of that chronic." But then I sat through the most effective "just say no" advertisement I've ever seen, the Church of Funk Funkadelic Extravaganza you put together for tonight's Grammy awards. And I said to myself, "Dude, if you smoke that chronic you were jonesing for, you might end up like that old white geezer dressed like a wizard, jamming to "We Got the Funk."

So thanks!
Sarah.

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sarahb

Your ass is a spaceship, and I wanna ride.

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