Drunk Epistolary Post

Dear amazing new Korean drama I've recently started,

YOU ARE SO GOOD I LOVE YOU, but I need to edit some videos right now* instead of luxuriating in your ridiculous love attraction/sibling/fake sibling/but also on the side sexual abuse storyline/throw in a weird aquarium obsession angle business. It's not like I can mail you back tomorrow anyway! I'll watch the other two episodes on that disc then.

Love,
Drunkish Saturday Night Lauren


Dear Set of Cute Matching Glasses I Bought When I Moved to Ohio and Lived Alone for the First Time,

I am saddened to announce the passing of yet another one of your fellows. When I first found you at the Bowling Green, Ohio Meijer store, I was like, "Sweet. I've got eight tall and eight short matching glasses because I AM CLASSY." But alas, it seems the taller of you have been, let's say, not so resilient.

Yes, I'll admit my complicity. I am clumsy and maybe not so diligent about the dishwashing, but since 100% of your fallen comrades were destroyed in the washing process, I'd think you'd at least count your blessings.

We are now down to eight short and two tall glasses after a tragic accident involving a tall guy and a faucet head earlier today. I mean, I really only have myself to blame, but I'm going to go ahead and blame you also. And the small Taiwanese children who hand-sculpted you out of sand and fire. Or whatever. STOP BREAKING, NOW I NEED NEW GLASSES.

Love,
Queen of the Breakie Breaks


Dear Mom and Dad,

Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop reading this blog. If you ever started. I think we're all happier if you don't really know what is going on with me.

Love,
The Ex-"Golden Child" (sorry I dropped the ball on that one, kids, nobody warned me there was an actual title involved)


Dear Carlos,

I don't actually know anybody named Carlos, but I've always wanted to. Let's have a torrid affair on some sun-splashed beach and then mention it in passing in our respective best-selling memoirs thirty years from now.

Te quiero, amor mio.

Bailamos,
Laurenza


Dear Biological Clock,

It's been nearly a decade with the "tick-tock." I GET IT, OKAY? I've only got 5-10 years to get my shit together. Babies are cute, but not as cute as stability in my mental health AND finances! What I'm saying is, could you lay off?

Love because it feels like some sort of family obligation thing because you are my brain/uterus/society/Mormon lady training and are a part of me,
L. Diggity Dogg

P.S. Lay off my mom too, okay? Let her meet some friends who are relieved their offspring haven't reproduced. Most of us really aren't fit, after all.


*But first I will write this ridiculous post.