An Open Letter to...THE CUTE OLD WOMAN WHO TOLD ME TO "F@#$ OFF!"!

Dear The Cute Old Woman Who Told Me To "F#$* OFF!",

Well, well, well, aren't we a Bitter Betty? Listen lady, you came to an interactive show that I was in and I was simply asking you where your "happy face" was? Those words coming out of your face are certainly not happy, nor are they respectful. For shame.

Where'd you get a mouth like that Toots? Ever heard of a little thing called the swear jar? Someone owes it $5! $5 seem a little steep to you, Mouth? Well perhaps you shouldn't have told me to "F*&@ off!" TWICE!

Ma'am, I am but a wee and lowly actor, working for scraps and my shift cocktail after the show, your words have cut me to the core. Interactive theater should be a positive and enlightening experience of human beings coming together to create a magical and inspiring environment of make-believe! I have a copy of the script and no where in the character descriptions page is a "cute old woman who crushes the dreams of a young actor by use of her potty mouth" ever mentioned!

Today I ask you to look in the mirror and ask yourself some questions like "What would Meryl Streep do?". I believe Meryl is a good role-model for you in your aged state. Meryl Streep would never tell a youngin' to "F*#@ Off" and neither should you.

God bless and F--WOOPS!.... God bless again.

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...Stairmasters!

Dear Stairmasters,

You deceiving little monster, you! Yesterday I decided to "shake things up!" at the gymsicles. What a mistake that was! There I was, standing in front of you like an idiot! Why you gotta be so hard to understand, Stairmaster??

I came to you for a session of bum-bum toning and all you gave me was a session of looking stupid in front of all the other gym-goers at the Y. Here's what truly blows my mind, Stairmaster. I ALREADY MASTERED HOW TO WALK UP STAIRS! I went to a prep-school for gods sake! Do you think we even needed to be taught stair skills at a prep-school? No, we did not. We were such smarty-pants they just ASSUMED we could walk up stairs.

I have been graduated from said fancy school for many years now, is it possible I forgot how to walk up stairs? No, it is not. So here I am, in front of a Stairmaster in my early 20s baffled at it's functionality. Here's why you're so tricky, Stairmaster. YOU'RE NOT ACTUALLY STAIRS! I came to you excepting something of a stationary escalator and all I got were two platforms that rapidly fell to the floor when I stepped upon them.

Stairmaster, let's make a compromise. I'll leave you alone and you actually do what you came to do...BE STATIONARY MECHANICAL STAIRS!

If you need me you can find me on the elliptical.

xo,

Madde

An Open Letter to...PEOPLE WHO WERE ACTUALLY RAISED BY WOLVES!

Dear People Who Were ACTUALLY Raised By Wolves,

I'm really sorry about what we've been saying about you guys. Seriously, I'm really, really sorry. Please don't eat me, I said I was sorry. Put your fangs away, I'm apologizing for the world, you guys. 

I'm sure your wolf upbringing was really great, in fact--I KNOW it was a great. My mother certainly didn't teach me how to make a bed out of sticks, leaves, and the skin of a bear! That is really a life skill that you can take with you down the road. You've got a beautiful singing howl! Everyone in your choir thinks so. Your dad is really nice, a little bit of an attitude of "I'm so awesome 'cuz I'm a dude!!", but super nice. Your wolf family really prepared you for the world. 

So, I guess what I'm saying is I'm sorry. I'm sorry that everyone has spoken about you in such a negative way. I know it's not fair and I'm sure it makes you sad/hungry to eat people sometimes. I hope you can forgive the world and we can cut it out with this wolf hate-speech. 

Hey! Next time I'm having deer at my house for dinner, you should totes come over for a nibble! 

xo, 

Madde

An OPEN LETTER TO NOSE PICKIN' CAR DRIVERS!

Traffic has been wacky these days and allowed me a lot of daydreaming time in the car. I have noticed an amazing new trend with drivers...NOSE PICKERS! I now present to you an OPEN LETTER TO NOSE PICKIN' CAR DRIVERS!

Dear NOSE PICKIN' CAR DRIVERS,

Whatcha lookin' for up there, folks? Gold? Treasure? Your keys? Your license and registration?

Whatever you're searching for--I can see you really digging from over here in my car. And let me tell you, it is intense what is happening over there. 

I suppose I can appreciate your private nose picking time. I would much rather have you digging in your car, rather than a table next to me at Chino, but I must say it's hard to sip on my Jamba Juice while I watch you scavenging for your breakfast. 

I commend your perseverance at stoplights, and even your multi-tasking abilities while driving, picking, and singing along to Katy Perry's "Firework". Well done, chap.

I wonder many things while I watch you at this stop light. May I list them for you?

1. Do you have a tiny dashboard kleenex kit you could use?

2. Do you sanitize your steering wheel before letting a valet park it?

3. What happens when you find what you're looking for?

4. Is this something you do alone, or just while the kids from the carpool are in the back of the van?

5. Have you considered tinted windows?

6. Is this a self-soothing method you use to deal with stressful traffic situations?

7. Do you know I'm watching you?

8. Do you care that I'm watching you?

9. Do you do this with hopes that it will encourage me to pick as well?

...and finally!

10. WHY ARE YOU PICKING YOUR NOSE WHILE DRIVING?

Mmmk. Just some thoughts for you. Happy picking!

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...The Red-Headed Actress Who Made Kombucha Disappear :( Sad-faced

If you follow Madde Belle: A CLOSET CASE. you would know that I am currently in Kalamazoo, Michigan for the week with the fam. Kalamazoo, a quaint college town, truly is everything Frank Sinatra once told us it was (wait, was it Franky that sang a ditty about Kalamazoo? Who knows!)

Anywho, when traveling I try my best to keep my routines intact, which includes my weekly Kombucha Juice indulgence (fermented Chinese tea that smells weird funky, but makes me feel awesome funky!). Well wouldn't you know that my Kombucha was nowhere to be found in K-A-L-A-M-A-Z-O-O--and we have one person to blame...L-O-H-A-N. I now present to you my open letter to...The Red-Headed Actress Who Made Kombucha Disappear.



Dear The Red-Headed Actress Who Made Kombucha Disappear,

Not cool, lady-friend...not cool at all. Looks like you've "TRAP"ped us again. You see, just when I was becoming spirtually connected to my Kombucha juice, you just happened to violate your pesky little probation and blame who? My beloved Kombucha--when in actuality you should have been blaming it on the "aa-aa-aa-aaa-aaa-alcohol" (Thank you, Jamie Foxx).

MEAN GIRL Red-Headed Actress, I commend you on your sobriety now (for seers, good job!), but it was not Kombucha's fault that you were going out to the clubs and suckling on the nose candy and sippin' on Gin and Juice, was it? Kombucha had minimal effect on your sobriety level, yet the moment you pointed your finger their way, my presh kombuch was taken away from the stores for "re-formulation". And let me tell you something--he didn't come back the same man. No, no, no. He is simply a shadow of his former self.

There was a time this summer when I lost all hope and was certain that I would no longer  be able to look forward to an afternoon buzz from a beverage sold in the produce department of my grocery store, but somehow, by the grace of Jesus, Buddha, God, and Barbra Streisand-- they have returned. Well--sorta. Yes, they've made a return--but I doubt they will ever fully bounce back. Certainly no bounce to be found in the Michigan suburbs.

So here I am today.
No buzz, no fermentation, no nothin'.
I'm forced to drink water.
And I'm in Michigan.
Thank you very much.
Maybe you and your little car, HERBIE, could scooch on up here and bring me a Cranberry Kombucha fresh from an L.A. co-op. Think about it.

xo,

Me

An Open Christmas Letter to...THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY!

"THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY"

(The Little Drummer Boy being The Little Drumming A-Hole in some flick)

Dear The Little Drummer Boy,

SHHH!!! There's a baby sleeping, you moron! I don't know if you were aware of this, but the kid that was just born in that barn over there--is sort of a big deal. He doesn't need some rebellious pre-teen banging on the sheep skin drum he just got for his birthday! He actually would prefer some quiet so that he could reflect on dying for your stupid ass sins in 30 or so years. Got it? Get it? Good. 

Regardless of the social status of said baby, let's talk about the fact that someone gave you a drum in the first place. You're not fit to be PA-RUM-PU-PUM-PUMing all around town...that's evident by your behavior tonight. Hand over the drum and take up some soft-shoe jazz dance, this would allow you to get out some of that excess energy IN SILENCE!

Good luck, kid. 

Merry Christmas. (You'll figure out what that means in 30 or so years)

xo,

Me

An Open Christmas Letter to...BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!

Continuing in the spirit of Open Christmas Letters, today I present to you an Open Christmas Letter to....

"BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!"

(Tom Jones and Cerys Matthew's make me uncomfy as they sing "Baby, It's Cold Outside". Please watch for their awkward dance break at 1:40. Yikes)

Dear THE TEAM INSISTING THAT IT'S COLD OUTSIDE,

I'd like to talk to each of you individually, if that's alright? I'm sure that will be just fine, since this date is not going well. Cold Dude, meet me in the den by the fire place. Cold Lady, go grab your stuff. I'm giving you a ride home so that your Father will stop pacing the floor.

Cold Dude, what up with you? No means NO! It doesn't mean "Maybe I'll give her a half a drink more, get her wasted, and then she has to sleep over...in the nude!" It means NO! We have pitter-pattered about for over 3 minutes while this poor, polite, dim-witted gal attempts to let you down easy. She's just not that into you.

I don't mean to put you down. You've really put a great date together. A girl would be lucky to have you. You're so complimentary, this wine is great, the fire is really lovely, but she's just not that into you. If your buddies ask why you didn't seal the deal tonight, you don't have to say that she left because she wasn't into you, simply say it was too cold and she had some family emergency. Ok. Great. Have a good night.

Cold Lady, what up with you? You knew coming to his house for the first date would make things complicated. You're letting him down easy, I respect that, but you should just say NO...it's not that hard. I hate to say it, but here's bound to be talk tomorrow either way. You live with your family and as soon as you get home tonight they are going to look you up and down like a hussy. Your sister won't be suspicious because your Aunt not only has a vicious mind, but a nasty, gossipy mouth..and she just proclaimed to your whole family that she thinks you're a slut. That's what you get for staying so late at this date! Next time...meet at a coffee shop. Just sayin'!

Alright kids, you two have fun. And wear a coat.

Merry Christmas!

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...PEOPLE THAT SMOKE WEED WHILE DRIVING!

Yesterday my sister yelled at me for engaging in a "Wave-Off" on the road with some dudes right next to us in the car. They kept waving at me! I couldn't be rude! I thought they were friendly until she noted they were probably high because they were clearly smoking weed in the car. Today I offer an open letter to...PEOPLE THAT SMOKE WEED WHILE DRIVING!

Dear PEOPLE THAT SMOKE WEED WHILE DRIVING,

What the hell is wrong with you? Clearly you're an idiot, so let's get that out of the way, but seriously--what's the logic on this one? Oh, I'm sorry. Have I lost my "cool"? Am I not being "chill" enough for you "bro"? I'll lower my voice....It's cool man. It's cool.

Ok, cool. We cool? Cool. Alright. Awesome. Rad. Mmmk...So,  I digress--you're so goddamn enlightened, so why don't you enlighten me on this little ditty? Why are you smoking weed in your car...WHILE IT'S MOVING?? Seriously.  First off, you couldn't wait until you were at least pulled over to pass that pipe around? I'm no square, but this is where I draw the line! I get it, someone likes the mary-jane! More power to you, but when you're driving? Are we being for serious on this one? Seriously bro, it's not safe, you'll probs get arrested, and well...you look like a moron when you're high and waving at two sisters as they drive in their automobile. 

Put the pipe down and stop waving at me, I can't help but wave back! So really, you're making ME look like an idiot. I resent you for that, bro. 

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to....MUFFIN TOPS!

It's almost wintertime and they have reared their ugly selves. Today I offer an open letter to....MUFFIN TOPS!

Dear Muffin Tops,

Whatchu doin' out this time of year? In fact, whatchu doin' out ANY time of year? Muffin Top, as I stood on the street corner last night (hangin' with my pals...not workin' it! Je promise!), you came sauntering around the corner like you owned that place. I was in shock. I was in awe. I was in...vomit. Muffin Top! Stay inside where you belong! This is for your own good, I promise. Muffin Top, you aren't cute, you aren't fun at parties, you bring a frowny face to my face. Muffin Top, do we need to talk? I think we do. 

We've all got a part of you inside of us, Muffin Top, but the smart peeps don't let you wander out onto the street unsupervised. Muffin Top, you suffer from inflated sense of self. This may be offensive to you, but it's time for some tough love. Muffin Top, you shouldn't feel as good about yourself as you do. This is for your own good, get off the streets and into a loose-fitting tee. The air is a drug to you, I know.

 I found a really helpful Muffin Top Rehab for you to go to, I've stuck the brochure in your belly button. Read it over. Consider getting some help. After all, the winter time is coming and I shan't say "I told you so!" when you catch a cold on the top of your Muffin. 

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to....DUDES WITH MAN-PONIES!!

As I have wandered through life these days, I'm noticing a new fashion trend in the male world: man-ponies. Today I present some of my advice to the man-pony wearers of the world in my open letter to....DUDES WITH MAN-PONIES!!

Dear Dudes with Man-Ponies,

I commend you for making a fashion choice. A lot of men don't even bother to pay attention to their appearance and just walk around the world lookin' like a slob. Man-ponies have the potential to be very alluring. I mean we've all seen what David Beckham and Gavin Rossdale have been able to pull off with their Man-Ponies! Rock it out! 

With that said, Man-Ponies also have the potential to go horribly, horribly wrong. A few simple problems with the Man-Pony can make you go from spicy sex-pot all the ladies want to pounce on, to homeless man I feel I need to run away from.

Here are 3 simple tips for the Man-Pony: 

1. Length of the Man-Pony: A shoulder-length Man-Pony is good enough, boys. At the shoulders we get the point..."Oh, look! He has a Man-Pony! Coolsies!" Anything past the shoulder has the potential to get creeper.

2. Find a good conditioner to rub up in the Man-Pony: Nothing ruins a Man-Pony more than dryness. Gentlemen, I can not express this enough! If you are going to have a Man-Pony that you use to entice the ladies and gents of the world, condition that shit! No one wants to run their hands through a pile of straw! Spend that extra money you use to buy weed this month, and buy some deep conditioner. You'll thank me. 

...and finally...

3. "How vulumptious and enticing is my Man-Pony?": This should be a question all Man-Pony wearers ask themselves before engaging in a Man-Pony. Don't know what this means? Here's a simple test. Stand in front of a mirror with your Man-Pony intact. Turn on Seal's "Kissed By a Rose". Seductivly remove your Man-Pony. If what you see in the mirror is similar to an Herbal Essences commercial, you are a good candidate for a Man-Pony. 

Carry on bravely with your Man-Ponies, gentlemen. When done well, they can your secret weapon. Spiderman had his webs that sprung from his hands, Batman had that fancy car, YOU have your Man-Pony. Wear it with Pride....and condition that shit! 

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...THE SLUTTY (FILL IN THE BLANK) HALLOWEEN COSTUME GIRLS

As Halloween quickly approaches this Sunday night, girls and boys all around the country are putting their final touches on their 2010 costumes! Many adults hope to make a stir at their office Halloween party dressed as a very topical Chilean miner , while others hope to give a friend a giggle with their ridiculous (and outdated) Spongebob Square Pants get-up, but a large fraction of lady-people have ONE thing on their minds this Halloween....TO BE SLUTTY SOMETHIN'.

I now present to you, dear ghoulish readers, an open letter to.....THE  SLUTTY (FILL IN THE BLANK) HALLOWEEN COSTUME GIRLS.

Dear THE  SLUTTY (FILL IN THE BLANK) HALLOWEEN COSTUME GIRLS,

Ladies, ladies, ladies. What the eff? Put some clothes on. Your costume is neither logical, nor cute. Here I am at the Halloween party in my giant 3-headed dragon costume, while you stand there dressed in 2 small pieces of glitter-filled fabric you like to call a "Slutty Unicorn". Tell me, ladies...when was the last time you were face-to-face with a "Slutty Unicorn"? What made him so slutty? Did he wear see-thru pasties as well? If so, more power to you! Also, if Slutty Unicorns truly exist, I'm positive that his unicorn horn is NOT placed in the place you have placed it. He has it on his head, you have it on your lady bits. VERY different places. 

Ladies, I respect your eagerness for the holiday, but I must ask...are you chilly? You must be! I wonder only because it is 30 degrees out and you seem to be wearing close to nothing. If you're ok with that, that's cool, just know I'm over here with a sweater stuffed in my dragon crotch for you to pop on in case of emergencies. I come to parties appropriately dressed and prepared for emergencies! 

For me, Halloween is a time for good ol' fashioned fun. A time to watch "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!" and trick-or-treat until I throw up from sugar poisoning. If you can't respect the good nature of the Halloween I take great pride in, you should have it taken off your calendars, Slutty Halloween Costume Girls. Put your pasties and short skirts away for your wedding night...or for other fun slutty times! 

3-headed dragon and I are going to go carve a pumpkin in the shape of a good-natured unicorn. Put some underwear on.  

xo, 

Me

An Open Letter to...USERS OF UNISEX BATHROOMS!

A few days ago I fell into a toilet. Here's my story. I present to you an open letter to...USERS OF UNISEX BATHROOMS!

Dear USERS OF UNISEX BATHROOMS,

See the toilet in that picture?? Take a long, hard look at it....Do you recognize that fine piece of porcelain? You just happened to be with it in that bathroom right before me. Do you know what happened after you left? I FELL INTO THAT TOILET! Do you know why? Because you didn't put that seat down when you left! 

I respect and appreciate the beauty of the unisex bathroom, but with the beauty of the unisex bathroom comes great responsibility. No longer will I live in a world where I run the risk for falling bum-first into the pool of germs. Gentlemen, put the seat down. Ladies, don't clog it up. Simple as that. 

If I fall into it again, we're in troubsies. For seers. 

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to..MAN WALKING DOWN THE STREET WHILE READING A GIANT ENCYCLOPEDIA!

...Somehow I run into the craziest things. This is just an example of this week's run-in.

Dear Man Walking Down the Street While Reading a Giant Encyclopedia,

HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE? I am in shock.  Sir, I had to stop the Jetta and watch this madness happening in front of me. True, Minneapolis is known for it's cooky and sometimes questionable behavior, but you have really outdone it.  Bravo!

I shan't hate on you very long. Actually there are a few things you are to be commended for, my friend. Firstly, pure arm strength. What gumption you have to carry that giant encyclopedia down the street whilst doing a little, shall I say "light" reading?  Not only are you a wise, wise man, but you must spend some time at the gym to have guns like those. Uh-oh...Bravo!

Secondly, your thirst for knowledge is inspiring, young buck. When I was a student in my schooling days, my studies tended to cease the moment my little feet hit the pavement outside of my education facility, but clearly that is not the case for you! No, no...you are a life-long learner, with a thirst for knowledge like a camel in heat. You shan't be confined by the limits of a classroom wall, no, you will bravely march into traffic with your head in a book larger than your head. Carry on bravely, and make sure you look both ways!

Bravo! Kudos! Cheers!

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...MARATHONS!

The Twin Cities Marathon ran by my house on Sunday morning....let me share with you some of my thoughts on it.

Dear MARATHONS,

Yesterday when I woke up at noon (yes, noon!), all I could hear was screaming coming from outside my window. Of course, my initial thought was that there were people outside that were really excited that I had survived my wild Saturday night, alas..I was wrong. It was for you, runners! Woop-de-frickin' do!They were outside on a Sunday morning screaming for you as you waddled on by.

Good job, you made your point. You've sufficiently made me feel badly about myself, thank you. As I am sleeping in my bed on a Sunday afternoon, cursing the Sun for being so bright, you are showing off and running around. Don't get me wrong, I support your healthy efforts, but couldn't this be done in the countryside somewhere, why do I have to hear it from my window?

Don't you run away...I have another bone to pick with you, Marathon! When I finally peeled myself out of bed and headed out for my day, I wasn't able to leave my neighborhood in the Jetta! It seems that on Marathon day people that drive cars to Minneapolis are chastised. I'm SOOOOO sorry I don't have the time to "run" or "speed-walk" to the matinee of "The Glass Menagerie" that I have tickets for this afternoon. Some people have cars for a reason. It shouldn't take me an HOUR to get to Minneapolis, it should only take me 10-15 minutes. I know you are really into this running thing you are doing, but that doesn't mean that my life has to be put on hold so that you can run down the street. I go on the elliptical at the gym in the morning time, but do you see me shutting down the city so that I can do that? No, you don't.

In conclusion, Marathons, reconsider your methods next year. Perhaps opening up a street for me to drive down would be the first step I would take. The next thing I would do would be get muzzles for the yelling morons sitting on the street. Wanna cheer on the runners at the Marathon next year? I will provide you with a muzzle and a sign that says "Way to Run Fast", this will ensure that I will be able to sleep in next year.

xo,

me

An Open Letter to...SEXTERS! AH!

Lock your phones and protect those all those with a weak stomach! 

We are all at risk! 

Are you a victim of...SEXTING??

Dear SEXTERS,

You know who you are. All of you. Please leave my innocent friends and I alone. Whitney Houston said it best when she proclaimed, "Crack is whack". Well I'm here to proclaim the same sentiment..."Sexting is WHACK!"

UrbanDictionary.com defines "sexting" as such: "The act of text messaging someone in the hopes of having a sexual encounter with them later; initially casual, transitioning into highly suggestive and even sexually explicit". 

Tell me something, Sexter, what was it about ME that fits that definition? Because I'm pretty sure your "highly suggestive and even sexually explicit" words in that sext, make me want to vomit and laugh at the same time. Sexting me would assume that we are engaged in a relationship of some sort, when in reality we've only hung out a few times. Let's turn the tables for a moment, shall we? If I were to sext someone I had only hung out a few times with, I would wonder if perhaps they thought I was being a bit forward? Did this go through your mind? Or were you too busy trying to take a cellphone picture in your bathroom mirror. This "turned table situation" wouldn't happen though. Do you know why that is, Sexter? BECAUSE SEXTING IS WHACK! I know it. You know it. The American people know it.

One of you Sexters sent my best friend a picture that was neither casual, nor suggestive. In fact this picture was just plain GRAPHIC. A picture of your man bits saying "Look who wants to say hi!" is....how should I say this....umm...WHACK!

I think I can speak for most recipients of a Sext when I say, we appreciate your efforts, but if you wouldn't say that to my face, don't you DARE send it to my IPhone! Many a gentleman caller has accused me of not being a very good recipient of romance, but I can tell you that what you Sexters are sending to our phones is not romance...it's just WHACK!

And some advice, if the recipient of your sext responds with a "haha" or "awky turtle!" or even "wtf?".....you've misjudged the situation. Try again.

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to....the BABY THAT CRAWLED ONTO THE HIGHWAY!

Headline from the newspaper: 

"Baby found crawling on State Highway"

Dear Baby That Crawled Onto the Highway, 

Did someone get out of his crib? I commend you for abilities to escape bedtime, Mr. Man...Baby, but please note that I'm pretty certain you shouldn't crawl onto the highway, lil' guy. 

I know, I know. I know I sound like an old fuddy duddy, but I really have your best interests in mind! You'll thank me when you're older. There are a few reasons you should avoid the highway. First, when cars come whizzing past you, you will surely make a poopy in your diaper. You get grumpy when that happens. 

Second,  you haven't mastered crawling yet, so you will surely invest a lot of time crawling onto the highway...someone will miss nap time! You get get grumpy when that happens. 

And finally, you're a baby. Babies shouldn't crawl onto the highway. Getting hit by a car will surely give you a reason to get grumpy, Baby. 

Ok, well next time make sure to look both ways!

xo, 

Me

An Open Letter to....STRANGERS THAT SMILE AT ME FOR NO REASON!

Dear STRANGERS THAT SMILE AT ME FOR NO REASON,

I'm obsessed with you guys. No, seriously...you make my day. Your Random Acts of Smiles brighten my day more than any unicorn pictures, cartoon pratfalls, internet monkey videos, or glitter parties... combined!

Imagine my surprise as I'm walking down the street, minding my own business, and then BAM! Your pearly whites are there to greet me on the sidewalk. I never know who is going to whip out the whites! It's like a surprise birthday party EVERY DAY!

 Old man with the Twins ball cap in the parking ramp? You would have made me sad had you not sent a grin my way...but YOU DID! Little girl with pigtails who was clearly peeing on the floor of Target? Thank you for smiling at me and letting me share in the joy of your misbehavior! Hot waiter guy who was not MY waiter....I'm sorry I recklessly smiled at you with food on my face. Thank you for indulging me with a smile. If I could have tipped you, I would have. Instead, I send you a smile...from my soul!


I love to smile. If I could have a smile party, I would invite all of you. We would have cupcakes with smiles on them. There would be ice cream sandwiches arranged in the shape of a smile. We would play Pin the Smile on the Grumpy Donkey. What fun! Yay!

 Smile at strangers, they might dedicate an entire blog entry to you.

Keep smilin'!

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to...THE BLOG READER WHO FOUND ME BY LOOKING UP GAYBLEACH.COM ON THE INTERNET!

There's this really nifty gadget on this blog. It allows me to track things like how many people read the blog a day, what entries are most popular, how popular I am in different countries, and how people even find my blog to begin with. I'm fascinated by this little gadget. If you ever need an ego boost and a good reason to use proper punctuation and spelling in your blog, this little gadget will do it for you. Not only is it shocking to see just HOW many people read this crap a day (it's a crazy number...I don't want to sound like a snob, but it's a number I didn't even know I could count to), but I stumbled across one of the most concerning things in my entire life.

According to the gadget, the majority of people that read my blog have found it via Facebook or Twitter. Many people use Google searches to find my little blog. I wasn't surprised when I saw people found me by typing in "Madde's Blog" or even "Madde + Dating + Unicorns", but what did surprise me was the person who found my blog by typing into Google (I kid you not on this one)....."Gay Bleach. com". I now present to you an open letter to...THE BLOG READER WHO FOUND ME BY LOOKING UP GAYBLEACH.COM ON THE INTERNET!

        + = 

Dear THE BLOG READER WHO FOUND ME BY LOOKING UP GAYBLEACH.COM ON THE INTERNET, 

Well this is surely not what you intended on reading! What a magical place the internet is that it would send you to me, when you were clearly searching for....well, I guess...umm...gay bleach?

I don't mean to sound ignorant, Reader, but what exactly is...gay bleach? I have chosen not to google it myself, for fear that it would forever stay in my computer's history and someone might find it and pass judgement on me. I hope you know this is NOT a judgement on your reading materials, Reader! Never would I pass judgement on such a loyal reader such as yourself! 

My mind wanders when the subject of this gay bleach comes up. What is it? What is it used for? Perhaps it is a cleaning solution you are seeking out to rid yourself of your homosexuality. If so, I strongly suggest you reconsider this! You are beautiful the way you are! NEVER rid yourself of your beautiful qualities. EVER. This blog is strongly supported by the homosexual community that thinks I'm mildly amusing, so I shant lose you as one of them!  

Perhaps this gay bleach is something one uses in their hair to lighten the color to an extra gay blonde. If so, I have been using gay bleach (disguised as peroxide) myself for quite sometime! What joy! We have something in common, Reader! YAY! High Kicks! Glitter! SMILE PARTY!

At the end of the day, Reader, whatever gay bleach is and however the internet thought it was related to my blog, I'm glad it brought us together! Truly. Madly. Deeply. Gay Bleachly. 

xo,

Me

An Open Letter to..THE 131 PEOPLE I DEFRIENDED ON FACEBOOK!

I have a lot bizarre habits. For instance, I have a strange tissue phobia. Yes, that's right. A tissue phobia. Just the sight of a box of tissues forces me to stuff the puffy part down into the hole so I don't have to see it. There. I said it. It's weird, I know. Sorry.

One of my most bizarre and unnecessary habits is defriending people on Facebook. Defriending usually happens whenever I get a cold that requires me to stay in bed for at least a few hours. Perhaps minor common colds give me a feeling of mortality, forcing me to "get real" and "focus on the people that are important in my life"...but I think I do it cuz my nose is stuffy and I'm bored.

So now, an open letter to...THE 131 PEOPLE I DEFRIENDED ON FACEBOOK

DEAR THE 131 PEOPLE I DEFRIENDED ON FACEBOOK LAST WEEK,

Well........................this is awkward. Umm...You well? That's good. So.....anyway....So....how 'bout them Twins, eh?........................ I don't like sports!! We all know that! AH!!

             

Ok, I can't do this charade anymore! I'm just going to cut to the chase, you guys. I just had to do it. I had to defriend you! I'm sorry. If your feelings are hurt, I suggest you get over it. 

You have to understand this was hard for me too! I don't want any tears! Stop with the tears!! Please. You're making me feel guilty. Just stop it.

You have to know this...My process was organic. I didn't go into the Facebook defriending with YOU in mind specifically. It just happened to end up that way. You didn't make the cut this time. This happens sometimes, former Facebook friend. You see, I went through my friends one by one, and had to use some very harsh tactics to ensure that my defriending was efficient that day. These are the following reasons I probs went all deletey-crazy all up on your profile:

1.  WAIT, WHO ARE YOU AGAIN? 

If I had no idea who you were from your name alone...DEFRIEND. I'm not sure how you got in my facebook to begin with. I'm sure it was a "you know my friend and I got drunk and told you a dirty joke at a party one night, so you friended me on Facebook...yay! We're best friends!" situation. Carol "The Body" Messerschmietz? DEFRIEND.

2. EMO-KID STATUS UPDATES FROM AN ADULT WHO SHOULD KNOW BETTER: 

If you continually post status updates that make me feel the following emotions, you're headed for defriendville: sad, depressed, annoyed, bummed sauce, woebegone, irked, and miffed. I don't have time for those feelings in my daily life. I have a lot of things to do today, and feeling badly for you is not one of them. DEFRIEND. (I'm sorry. I'll buy you a journal for your birthday. I promise.)

3. One Word: FARMVILLE:

Knock it off! I don't like fake farming, I repeat, I DON'T LIKE FAKE FARMING! I don't want to help you buy a chicken, or find a home for the fake turtle you "found" somehow while you were sitting on your bum at work. You know how I respond to your request for me to milk your fake cow?? DEFRIEND! It's not that I don't like you, I just don't like that stupid game you play. You understand, I'm sure. Quit the fake farm, regain the Madde. 

And finally..the most offensive of them all...

4. 20 MILLION PICTURES OF YOU AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND MAKING OUT: 

If I wanted to be in your relationship, you would find me spooning with you 2 in the middle of the night. Please look in your bed right now... am I snuggled in next to your cat with my September issue of Vogue? No? That means I don't want to be in the middle of your make-out session with you and your lady friend. You, your tongue, your girlfriend, and your nastiness have earned you a DEFRIEND. 

In conclusion, I hope you are able to rectify some of these things before you refriend me. It has the potential to get reaaaaaaaally awkward-sauce if you refriend me and I have to defriend you...AGAIN. 

xo, 

Me

AN OPEN LETTER TO....FLIP FLOPS. (Spoiler: I HATE THEM!!)

I became irrationally angry at some girls feet tonight. Here is my tale: an open letter to...FLIP FLOPS!

Dear Flip Flops,

Who the hell do you think you are? Are you shoes? Are you slippers? Are you a shower sock? Or are you nothing more than cheap pieces of rubber that promote sprained ankles? What is happening with you? What's your deal?!? I'm super confused. All I know is this fact: you make me so angry sometimes. 

You can keep flippin' and floppin' all over town, Flip Flops, but know that you have an enemy in me. 

First of all, have some self-respect and get some coverage for the top of a foot! Jeeze louise. You just keep walkin' around, gathering dust and dirt build-up around your stupid little v-shaped strap. You and I used to be friends, but every time I took you off, that dirt V that appeared on my foot was so sickening that I threw you in the back of my closet and chose not to hear your cries for help when my cat gnawed on your pink rubber heels. 

Second, women should have to sign waivers before putting you on. In this waiver they would promise to ensure that their toes didn't resemble anything that could be found on an elf, including, but not limited to, wacky long toenails and hobbit hair on their toe tops. As for dudes, dudes should never wear flip flops! When did you become so damn inclusive, flip flops?!? You should know you aren't proper footwear for men!

In conclusion, I effing hate you flip flops. You make people look like d-wads when they wear you. You get dirty very quickly. And you're just generally stupid. Get out of my closet and don't look back for any love from me. 

xo,

Me