Dear A&E channel,
Really? Obsessed? You had to do that to me. I mean, I realize people with OCD have real problems and said problems completely tear their lives apart. It's horrible. But do you have to televise it? Because I spent four hours on Saturday glued to the TV and I came away from those four hours freaked out about my hands, counting anything and everything, and wondering if I could ever again drive on the freeway. Just stop. Please. Put this show on at 7AM when I'm busy with kids or at 3AM when I'm asleep. And don't publicize the show in Atlanta because I will watch it and then I'll end up being a patient in an episode next season. A patient who counts blog post words and smacks the wall every time a blogger uses WTF? *Smack*
I just counted and this letter has 151 words.
Dear Quentin Tarantino,
Dude. I haven't the words.
Wait, maybe I do.
I love you. I loved that film. I loved Brad Pitt's fake Italian accent on top of a fake Southern accent. He was genius. I loved Christoph Waltz and his character and I want him. Everyday. Curled up in my pocket so I can take him out and hug him and cuddle him. He is incredible. I loved the gore. I loved the violence. I loved... everything. I want this movie on DVD yesterday so I can watch it every night before bed. Even my 69-year-old mother was laughing and Woo hoo!-ing it up. Awesome. Abso-frakking-lutely awesome.
You are pure genius and I cannot wait to see what comes out of that magnificent brain of yours for the next movie.
Hugs and smooches,
Dear John Edwards,
Speechless. Utterly, completely speechless. I don't know what I'm surprised about more. Am I more surprised over the fact you had an affair, while your wife was dealing with cancer, paid for the other woman with campaign donations, had a baby with her, and that you're going to move her and the baby to a home near you and your cancer-stricken wife and three kids? Or am I more surprised over the fact that you gave me the willies long before any of this was known and that for the first time ever my willies-meter was dead-on right?
Can't decide. But I have decided that you are scum.
Gonna have to spit on you. Seriously.