A Formal Declaration of War.

Dear Skin,

alright skin. enough is enough. This is war.

I know you are genuinely upset that its been cold outside, then hot outside, then cold again. But this is Missouri, sweetie. If you haven't gotten used to bipolar weather after 22 years, there's something wrong with you. as a part of the human anatomy aren't you supposed to be down with all this adapting and evolving stuff? I mean seriously.

But you don't have to throw this all out temper tantrum about it. I know the weather and humidity is less than ideal, but just because I want to shave my legs doesn't mean you get to be all like, "you know what would be really fun? Acting like we're on effing FIRE." Which causes me to have to down an ungodly amount of benadryl and have to sleep it off the rest of the day. Think about who you're affecting here.

I've tried to be nice about it, but apparently its been all for naught. I'm sick of you blaming me for things I can't control, and I'm even sicker of you're excuses. Yea yea, so you have this weird combinational heritage of German and Dutch where all their dainty little wives probably stayed away from the sun or sat in church all day while growing nasty man hair on their legs. Well guess what, skin? this is the 21st century, and I'm not about to act dainty or prudish--so you can kiss that ambition goodbye. You're a Stephens--you need to freaking man up!

So, skin, this is how its going to end. I'm pulling out all the stops. I will continue to launch an all out non scented moisturizer assault on you. There will be Aveeno, non-scented soap, new loofahs and shavers, specialty shaving cream, the works. And you're totally going to be attacked with green tea/tea tree infused lotion, and you are going to LIKE it. You're not going to be able to think only of yourself forever.

You've made me miss church for the last time, ma'am.

INCREDIBLY sincerely,

Melinda

A tribute to meatballs.

Dear really nasty Applebees meatball pasta;

You, sir, are my hero. I sincerely think you've single handedly saved my life. So, I thought a thank-you card was in order.

I hate to air all my dirty laundry here, nasty meatball pasta, but it's necessary to understand why you have been to detrimental to my natural self-life sustaining capabilities. I've had a long, on-going, seriously committed relationship to carbs. Me and carbs went everywhere together. I was convinced that carbs loved me. After all, carbs was always making me feel good, especially when I was down. Carbs always made sure that I was never alone, and ensured that I had enough family time (especially celebrating at Olive Garden or V's). Carbs even paid constant compliments on my sweater choices. But what I didn't know about carbs was that carbs turned out to be a blood-sucking parasite. Oh, sure, carbs knew all the right words to say. Carbs even promised to buy me nice things. But really, carbs just wanted a place to crash at night so that carbs wouldn't have to get a job like every other individual on the planet. Carbs used me, preying on my arteries and lack of gym membership. There was a problem, though.In spite of all this, I was still in love with carbs. I couldn't let him go. I know carbs wasn't doing well now but carbs would get back on his feet eventually, just give him some time! Besides,I just went through a really painful break-up with Taco Bell, I don't think I can take any more heartache like that right now. Oh carbs, please never leave me!

I know. It's a pathetic sight. I would've done anything to stay in that really crappy relationship. I needed carbs for emotional support, even if carbs was a loser who refused to get a job and camped out on my stomach for the next six months. Which, if left to his devices, could cause some serious problems like heart disease and diabetes--I can already feel some of the affects weighing on my joints now and then. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if carbs, while lying in lazy passivity, was actually plotting homicidal tendencies. Luckily, you came along, really nasty meatball pasta from Applebees.

You probably don't remember our meeting. It was pretty brief. Though I was sure Applebees really tried I was not very impressed with your poor quality and lack of cheesy goodness. I snarfed down what I could due to the fact that I was hungry, but our collision with the fates was far from over. On the drive home and hours on into the night, I still felt your oppressive presence. It was like I had swallowed a bunch of really mushy rocks that refused to be digested, accompanied by awful garlic burps that appeared with a vengeance and left a stale taste in my mouth. It's not that i was nauseas, its just that I couldn't get your overwhelming grossness out of my system fast enough. Basically, I feel like I'd be ok with never eating ever again. That's how awful you are.

You persistence truly is incredible: I didn't know you were trying to tell me something until it was almost too late. But thankfully, your pursued me until I stopped and realized that what you were telling me really was for the best. After copiously digesting you for hours, I realized I'd be ok with never eating pasta again. And the chains fell. You helped me realize my abusive relationship with carbs. Now, finally, with your help, I think I have both the sense and the strength to leave carbs for good (excluding wheat and whole grain, of course). You're like the sassy gay friend of meat.

Thank you. Really. I appreciate your radical intervention more than you know.

Cordially,

Melinda

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Dear Taco Bell,

Let's face it. We both knew this day was coming. Trying to go on would only put even more of a strain on our already climactic relationship. I could try to be more sensitive and skirt more around the real issue, trying to save your feelings, but here's the thing: I believe that you deserve the truth, and avoiding your gaze won't help either of us.

Taco Bell, its over between you and me. I can't see you any longer. I can't tolerate the crack that they obviously put in all your food to make it so wonderfully addicting and self medicating. And everyone knows that you've just been using your tasty burritos to draw me in without me noticing. Well the jig is up, Taco Bell. I know you just want to be with me, and lets be frank: I want to be with you too. But I can't take all this lying and manipulation. And furthermore, my arteries just can't handle any more abuse. They're already severely hurt from my last on-going relationship with pasta (it was really just a bad situation all around).

Not only have you been tastily manipulating me, but you've been affecting my relationship with my friends. I have a severe suspicion that you and Casye have been going on for a long time behind my back. I can't blame her really, you are quite irresistible. But that's besides the point. Anytime we rendezvous together and I want to spend quality time with my friends watching a long movie afterward, you always manage to ruin everything. Methane is deadly in more ways than one, you know.

Before you start making accusations I'm just going to clear the air, here. I've found someone else. His name is Crunchy Delicious Crouton Spinach Salad. He loves me for who I am and treats me like a lady. I mean, what defines a gentlemen more than one who gives you 15% of your daily value of Iron and simultaneously gives you a clean colon? I'm afraid he just fulfills my needs better than you do, Taco Bell.

Therefore, we have no choice but to go our separate ways. Don't be sad, darling. It's me, not you. And really, this is better for everyone. You can now openly pursue your relationship with Casye and shower her with tasty quesadillas. And I can do this thing where I can go jeans shopping and actually find something. I feel we can both become better people from this arrangement.

I'm so sorry it had to end this way. Can we still be friends?

Love always,

Melinda

P.S. Ellen sends her regards.

Here's to Trying New Things.

I have a tendency to write angry letters to things when they are completely ridiculous. So I'm putting them here for yours and my enjoyment, should you choose to enjoy said letters.

That said...well.. Enjoy!