Letters from the Biddy

Yet another idea I hopelessly stole. But the ramblings are all mine.

Dear Fellow Elliptical User,

If you could pretty please with a cherry on top not use the neighboring elliptical pedal as a key holder that’d be great. You see, when there are only four machines to choose from during the 5:30 post-work workout rush hour, these babies tend to fill up fast. And your keys make it look like the machine’s user is just in the bathroom or something, and I’m forced to hop on the squeaky tredmill. And also forced to jog to a podcast because I have not prepped myself with the proper playlist.

Mal-prepared,

Mellie

P.S. I don’t care if Comedy Bang Bang is funny. It doesn’t exactly come with a beat.

P.P.S. Oh, if you could also not lather up with shea butter before your workout, that’d be awesome.

P.P.P.S. If you do, wipe that mother down when you’re done. Come on. Not wiping down your machine is the equivalent of emerging from a bathroom stall, forgoing the sink or bacterial hand gel and just licking your palm instead. It’s just icky.


Dear Josh Ritter,

I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of? I’m afraid that I’m not sure of…Well, a love there is no cure for. And you make me quote David Cassidy. And I fuckin hated the Partridge Family. Ridin around on their abrasively painted bus, playin tambourines, velvet vests. Weirdos. But you are delightful. I dig your red socks. And your bear hugs. And when you tickle yourself (figuratively, not literally) and giggle in the middle of your songs.

Hopelessly devoted,

Now-she’s-channeling-Grease Mellie

Strategically photoshopping this and sending out Save the Dates would probably be creepy, right? Dammit.

Dear So You Think You Can Dance,

You rock. But you’re over-doing the mid-routine kiss shtick. Unless your names are Kent and Lauren and you’re pretending to be at prom, I don’t need you locking lips. So far this season we’ve had at least seven routines to involve tongue, and I just think it’s strange. And Sasha, your little ploy to plant one on Alexander after a mediocre routine in a vain attempt to be kept out of the bottom four…Uncool. And Nigel, you kind of mouth raped Mary. Also uncool. And skin cringing.

P.S. Now, if all-star Robert and NPH wanted to makeout a little on last week’s episode that would’ve been totally different.

P.P.S. And let’s face it, a way better show.

P.P.P.S. Having said that, if Sasha and Twitch had decided to take their lyrical hip hop a more coital route, I’d have probably been OK with it.

P.P.P.P.S. Twitch…Um. Call me, mmk?


Update:

Dear Pinterest,

Why must you make me awkward? All I wanted was to be able to keep track of delicious-sounding recipes and potential, future craft items. But for some reason you made me "follow" everyone who's ever thought about Pinterest that I may somehow know through someone on Facebook. Holy face palm.

Doh!,

Mellie

P.S. It's hard enough for me to not be awkward already.

P.P.S. Danke for making me spend my first hour on Pinterest clicking "unfollow" instead of actually pinning shit.

P.P.P.S. Um, did you actually make me sit on a "waiting list" before I signed up? Losers.