Letters From a Late-20s Blogger to the Universe at Large: Part the Third

No confessional today because, though I could probably go into hypnotherapy with my shame spiral in general, I'm having one of those unusual mornings where everything is rainbows and sunshine and I maybe-ok-definitely shouted, "GOOOD MORNING!!!" at a coworker randomly on the street. So, rather than dig through my past for your entertainment, I will instead leave you with some little letters that I began drafting yesterday, when my mood was a bit more, shall we say, sourpuss. Here we go!

WTF?! Letters of the Day:

Dear Young, Perky, Judgmental Coed Across the Bar,
Wipe that stupid smirk off your face. One day, in the not-so-distant future, you will find yourself at a much-needed happy hour, blowing off steam with one of your biffs. I assure you that you, too, will be a acting a little bit tipsy, laughing a little bit too loud and being a little bit too Billy Joel in general. You, too, will find it hilarious when the 19-year old bartender cards you and you will giggle at his attempts to flatter you into a bigger tip. So retire the stinkeye already, because those two ladies you're gawking at? Consider them your crystal ball.
WTF?!
Welcome to your future,
C

Dear Fluorescent, Only-the-Super-Can-Replace-You Kitchen Light,
Your current state of blinking, flashing and outright mocking me needs to stop. While I do appreciate a good disco now and then, I also live in fear of negligence lawsuits. Seeing as I'm worried you could give someone a seizure, it's time to get your act together.
WTF?
Shape up before I blow a fuse,
C

Dear Federal Government,
WHY YOU NO STANDARDIZE SUBMISSION PLATFORMS ACROSS THE INTERWEBS?! I am a willingly taxed citizen of the US (no, seriously -- I live in MA, where we voted against decreasing the income tax a few years ago), so I only ask for one thing: can one of your highly-paid, steadily employed "people" come up with a standard system for submission? It's bad enough that securing government funding is like pulling teeth; does the submission process really need to make me prefer a root canal, too?
WTF?!
Get with these economic times,
C

Dear Closet,
Sorry you're so mad at me for keeping you full of last season's wares, but I am of the small faction of human beings who admits to getting a tiny rush from paying my bills in full, on time (or early!). So when Momma sees a little extra in the bank account, she does not wanna blow it on shoes. Call it residual Stockholm Syndrome from back when student loans kept me in a bunker of solitude, but you're going to have to get used to sharing the wealth.
WTF?
We'll see who's laughing when I'm bathing in cash like Scrooge McDuck,
C

Dear "Fashion Community."
Overalls. Enough said.
WT-EVER-LOVIN'-F?!
Really, though?!
C

And a Love Letter:

Dear Katiebelle,
Thank you for being my friend and assuring me that one day, our parody novel will be a bestseller. Also, give me a glass of your finest, cheapest chardonnay.
Four for you, Glenn Coco!
You go, Glenn Coco!
C


And none for Gretchen Wieners.