1. To the 50-something man wearing an obscenely small [fluorescent yellow] g-string in the park: Stop it. Please, just stop it. There are children around, for the love of god, and on the Fourth of July I want to be able to eat a hot dog without irony. You are wrong, wrong, wrong for going out in public with just a g-string on. You are even more wrong for rolling over onto your back. And you are most wrong for sitting up and starting to DO YOGA in your teensy g-string. Take your hairless body, your The Nation. hat, your clove cigarettes and go inside.
3. To the two couples clearly on first dates who bookended us at dinner on Friday night: Please, email me and let me know which of you had sex that night. I’m pretty sure the Asexual British Couple With The Guy Wearing A Class Ring was going to be doin’ it later, but Kent had money on the Trashy Over-Tanned Long Island Couple Who Didn’t Order Dessert. We’re curious. Call us.
3. To the man who answered not one, not two, but THREE phone calls during Farenheit 9/11 on Saturday night: Next time sit a little closer to me so that I can kick the back of your seat and tell you what an asshole you are. Because you are a big asshole.
4. To the woman I saw this morning shaving her armpits on the F Train: Ahem. Call your mother right now and tell her what you did. I’m sure she won’t believe it, and I’m sure she will kick your ass when she hears.
5. To my husband: Don’t cut your hair any shorter. I know that you are excited about having the next six weeks off before you start Columbia, and that shaving your head was a big show of independence and freedom – timely considering your last day of work was right before the July 4th holiday – and that it will grow back. I know Brad Pitt and the hot guy on Sex and the City and that guy from the gym all shaved their heads. I know all this, but still, don’t shave it again.
6. To Ben Affleck: Stop making movies. I’m sure your paycheck justified Paycheck, but come on…it’s over.
7. And, in the same vein, To Kevin Costner: If time travel becomes possible, please go back in time to 1988 and when you’re done filming Bull Durham, just retire. That roll is enough, and it’s not gonna get better. Crash Davis is possibly the sexiest character ever created, and is certainly the sexiest character not played by George Clooney. I get all hot and bothered every time I watch that movie, and I want to rip the towel off of your body when they show you in the locker room. You clearly know how to treat a woman and I want you to paint my toenails and dance with me and throw me down on the kitchen table. Crash Davis is S-E-X. He is a man, not a boy, and I would rather watch you play him over and over and over again than even pretend to be interested in that Dances With Wolves crap.
8. To Hollywood: Make more movies like Bull Durham.
9. To my metabolism: I am sorry for the approximately 43,297 calories I took in this weekend, but hey, be a pal and burn those off for me, ‘kay?
10. And tell my hormones to take a rest already. Erratic mood swings and acne are miles away from ‘unpredictable and cute’ so just behave and let me go one week without a) crying at something really stupid, like “The Ashlee Simpson Show”, or b) getting a gazillion zits.
11. To my hairdresser: Make me pretty. I’m coming to see you tomorrow with buckets of money, so please, make me pretty.
12. To the Gods of Employment and Career Fulfillment: Remember me? No? Hmmm…well, I think you are just the bestest ever, and would love a little help. Nothing big, just a phone call or something. Divine intervention in the form of a wise friend who can point me in the right direction. Some inspiration. Anything.
13. To my friends: Bear with me while I bitch and moan and complain and whine and bitch some more about this whole job thing. I love you guys more than you know, and I hate sounding negative, but I’ve been having a rough go of it lately, and you all help keep me sane. So just keep doing what you’re doing and be there for me and keep pouring the wine, and I promise you that when you need me I will be there for you too. I swear.
14. And finally, to my husband, once more: Let’s watch Bull Durham again. Then you can paint my toes.