An Open Letter to Old Spice

Dear Old Spice,

It's no secret that I LOVE you. Rather, I love your commercials. That Isaiah Mustafa... yes. And yes. But I think there's room for another man. A man that men want to be like.

Brian Wilson.

NOT the musician. The amazing bearded baseball player. That man is unstoppable.

1. He's my boyfriend. Hubby is okay with this because they look so similar. Okay... and the fact that we have not actually met. Hmmm... problem.
2. That beard? Well that will sell the product itself.
3. He's hilarious. For reals. Look up any interview with him. People love him so much there's a Facebook page campaigning for him to host SNL.
4. He's loved. The ladies LOVE B.Weezy. Just read this blogger's reasons they are destiny. I laughed. And wished I had a blog when I was single so I could write crazy things. Back then it would have been reasons I was going to marry Barry Zito (I apparently have had a thing for pitchers for years).

So really Old Spice, let's make this happen. I promise I will only buy your product for my husband if you make this happen. And when I have sons one day, they will only use Old Spice.

But only if you get me Brian Wilson.

Dear Las Vegas

Wow. Where do I start?

I've seen you before, so the lights weren't overwhelming. Neither were the smut-peddlers or time share pushers. And yes, I think the time share employees can be called pushers. They can also be called aggressive and annoying.

You should probably put your cab drivers through anger management. Or medicate them. I can't remember the last time I heard that much honking. It got to the point where all I could do was laugh. But seriously, one of those guys is going to lose it one day and his head will explode causing a serious accident.

While we're on the subject of driving, let me tell you something... paint is totally affordable. See, elsewhere there are these lines painted in the road so drivers know exactly where their lane is. This helps them avoid straddling two lanes, which helps lower the frustration level of people sharing the road with them. It's also nice to know just how many lanes there are in the road you're driving on. Just a suggestion. Or maybe you don't do it because of the never-ending construction going on all over town. ALL OVER town. Everywhere. But that's a different story...

Not to sound like I had a terrible time. I enjoy the weird, random people. I enjoy shows. I enjoy cheap food. I had fun, I promise. And I'll be back.

But one more suggestion.

For a place known for their all-hours gambling and popular night-life, I have to say I was disappointed with food selection later at night. Why is it so hard to find food late at night? People are gambling, which probably means they're drinking, which could lead to them being hungry. People are coming out of shows, and they might want to go grab a bite to eat. I'm fully aware that eating late at night is not exactly diet-friendly, but it's Vegas! There's nothing friendly to personal health there anyway. So keep a few of those restaurants open. It stinks when you have to leave the strip to find some food.

Will you listen to any of these? Nope. But I'll be back. And I'll keep things in mind for that trip. See you in a few months.

An Open Letter

Dear Disney,

Let me start by saying that on any given day I love you. I love Disneyland. I quote many of your movies regularly, and I take joy in buying my nephew oodles of Disney socks, shoes, underwear, and countless other items.

But we have a problem.

Why do you insist on sending movies to "the Disney vault" after a while? It's really stupid. And annoying. And it makes me yell at the TV that you are a bunch of jerks. Thanks to you I have to budget twenty bucks for Peter Pan so that I don't have to wait until I'm eighty and you decide to bring it out of that stupid vault of yours. I should be able to buy it at my leisure. Heck, I would even dare to guess that you would make more money by people buying it when they want as opposed to scrambling for it right now.

So I just wanted to let you know that I am cursing you every time I hear your commercials about the "vault." I hope your mysterious vault swallows you whole.

Thanks.
Typhoid Ashley

An Open Letter

Dear Scientists,

I know you're busy curing diseases and such, but might I make a suggestion to you? While you're busy finding an obesity gene, or a cancer gene, let's look around for a drama gene. No, not the creative drama, the pointless drama that makes ya wanna backhand a b*tch. Ya know?

I know, cancer and obesity are serious problems, but drama can be too! It causes needless rifts in families. It gives us those annoying couples who break up and get back together every other month. It takes up precious time that could be spent doing better things. It pulls in third parties and creates a problem for them. Drama sucks!

I know people will say, "Just don't hang out with those drama queens." Easier said than done friends. Especially when it's family (blood or otherwise). You're supposed to be nice to these people that are talking about a new "scandal" every month? If they're not mad at you, they will be next month. Maybe you looked at them wrong. Or you breathed on their drink. Or you took someone else's side. Good Lord, could we get over it already? This is where the drama gene comes in. If we turn it off, think how peaceful family get-togethers will become.

I'm also curious to see what else the drama gene will be connected to. The back-stabbing gene? The having-multiple-baby-daddy-is-awesome gene? The I-only-date-losers gene? The I'm-entitled-because-I-have-too-many-kids gene? The possibilities are endless!

So scientists, let's get to work on this one. You'd make mothers of teenagers happy. Anyone with a daughter would fall down and kiss your feet. We could change society as we know it! I've even got some test subjects for you. Just gimme a call. I've got plenty to choose from.