Dear Candidate,

I love you.  Oh, of course I don’t love you!  I don’t even know you…but I sure like you a lot.  I’m sure there are others like me.  Beyond the obvious, what really got me was your chivalry.  And, of course, your eloquence.  I watched your speech, and cried.  My friends will tell you that’s no big deal, I cry about everything. But I tell you what: I was crying because we’re making history, baby!  I think of all the others that went before you, and I know they’d be proud.  I cannot wait to see you as our president.

Don’t eff it up, okay?

Warmly and Excitedly,



Dear Pierce Brosnan,

Please don’t sing anymore.



Dear Other Candidate,

I just want you to know?  Just in case it doesn’t work out with your veep?  I’ve volunteered in my son’s classroom for like four years now, so I think I’m ready for the job.  Just wanted to put that out there.




Dear You Know Who You Are,

You should be ashamed of yourself.  Not for the predicament your daughter is in, oh no.  Not at all.  Got myself knocked up before I was wed, and I consider myself a most sincere Christian, with morals coming out of my ears.  No, no.  You should be ashamed for feeding your daughter to the press.  Career be damned!  You sure are showing me what’s important to you. (Hint: not your family.)

Hope its worth it,

Disgruntled voter who’s sure as hell not voting for your ticket


Dear Kris Radish,

I get it.  We should all be lesbians.  Probably are.  Point taken.  Can we move on now?

Loved your first book more,



Dear what my husband refers to as Nicotine Withdrawl Dreams,

Stop it alright?  Yer freekin’ me out and making me lose sleep.  Don’t make me start smoking again.




Dear Big Hands,

Thank. You. 

No really.  Thank. You.

Wink, wink.

Very Happily,