Dear Snookies Cookies,

Like Mariah says, I don’t want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is…YOU. Ever since our first encounter a few weeks ago at the office, I can’t stop thinking about you. I keep hoping that I will see you again. Every time I walk into our meeting place, the kitchen, I fantasize about you being there. Maybe another client decided that we deserved you. Maybe someone has been reading my facebook status. But you're never there. Instead, I find tins of Mrs. Beasley’s this and holiday treats that. But nothing else can satisfy my craving for you. Your lightly-browned complexion, chewy texture and delicious chocolate chips really raised the bar. Something about you just makes me smile. Sure I could drive a few miles to Diddy Riese and stand in line behind a bunch of tweens and live out my old days as a Bruin. But nothing compares to your deliciousness. The last time I felt this way was when Mrs. Fields was still good. Until our recent rendezvous, I had lost hope that anyone could make chocolate chip cookies better than my very own recipe. Now, everyday after lunch, I sit at my desk and wonder where you are and who you are spending time with and wish that since I don’t ask for much, this year—someone will bring me YOU. (www.snookies.com)

Dear Random People Who Add Me On FB,

I don't care if your "boyfriend" left a comment on my photo, it does not mean that I want to be your friend. Either you are a girl with 1,543 friends and add anyone and everyone, or a weirdo loner with only 24 friends and a private page, which clearly indicates to me that you are curious to know to who your FB BF is leaving flirty messages for. Either way, I don't need your "friendship" on facebook. If you suspect your man is peeking up the wrong profile pic skirt, I suggest you take that up with him.

While I'm here, just a quick reminder to the guys out there. It is NOT okay, I repeat NOT OKAY for you to research & narrow down the Gilda's in LA & find me on facebook & add me. If I didn't give you my number at the bar, it's probably not likely that I want to see you on my friend request list the next morning.

Oh, and of course, just because you googled this blog & are reading this, it does not make us "friends" and you should not add me on facebook under any circumstances.

Glad we cleared that up.

Dear Craigslist Poster,

Please do not list your couch as having a "nice pattern" when it looks like this.

Dear "Actor in True Blood,"

You are not actually considered an "actor" on the show if you played the "cop who the girl pointed to in the bar scene," and also a "voiceover in episode 11." Yeah, not so much. Girls don't find it cool when you try to make your struggling acting career to be moreso by lying about it. Also, working as a "bartender on the side" at the Staples center, does not help your case. You may want to leave that entire part out. If you are going to lie about anything, it should definitely be the fact that you are a bartender at the Staples center.

Dear Cougars,

I have heard about your kind before, but I did not really understand what people meant when they would say "cougar" until I saw it with my own eyes. Is it written somewhere that single women over forty who go out to bars to pick up younger men must wear leopard print and tease their hair? Also, do you have to get so drunk so that when you end up "jokingly" humping the guy on the bar you can blame it on being hammered? Oh, and please don't hug me.

Dear Creator of the most terrible movie ever,

Although I can't take back the 98 wasted minutes of my life spent watching your terrible film, I can tell you how bad it actually was. I know that I didn't just hate your movie because I don't like horror films and I can't watch Bones after 10pm. But because it was truly bad. Even the guy behind me, who seemingly likes your genre, called it "garbage." I should have known, when we were buying our tickets, that this movie was going to be bad. The guy behind us was wearing a white lab coat and seemed quite anxious to get in. Me, being the normal human being that I am, thought he was a doctor, coming from a long day of work. When we asked him if he was going to see the movie, he snickered and said "what gave it away?" and then rolled his eyes. I asked, "the lab coat?" And he snickered again and rolled his eyes and said "yes!" OF COURSE his lab coat! How could I not get it? I wanted to say, why the f would I know that you wearing a white lab coat would give away the fact that you are going to see a particular movie? but instead, I just asked "why?" and he said "you haven't seen it before?" and i responded, "no. That's why we are in line. To go see it." I mean, how many people buying tickets to a movie have already seen the movie? I should have known right then. I should have also known when they microwaved my friend's hot dog that this was going to be bad. But, I am an open-minded person and I wanted to be nice since this was my friend's idea. We walked in at this part:
http://www.repo-opera.com/flash_home.html
My first instinct was to RUN. Oh my god. This is a joke. Wait, but maybe it will be good. Maybe it will have some redeeming qualities. Oh. Interesting. The first character is singing the introduction. He's got a good voice. Maybe this will be good. Oh. The second character is also singing, not such a good voice. Oh, great--people's heads are getting cut off and their organs are being torn out and people are singing about it. Meanwhile, the audience is laughing. At this point, ALL the characters are singing. Oh, I see. This is a musical. This is a horror movie musical. Oh, and to top it off, there is Paris Hilton. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better,, Paris Hilton is in it. So, yeah--creator of Repo Opera--why don't you just stick to playing Dungeons and Dragons on your computer. We could really do without your "creative" expression.

Dear Foxtail,

Thanks for having a fun party on Saturday. Watching each and every guy at the bar try to seal the deal with as many girls as possible was an...experience. You would think I’d be used to it by now, but this was unlike any other typical club night in LA. There was a palpable sense of immediacy in the air. A one-night-only mission. It was like watching lions mate on the Discovery Channel. As I watched the males prey on the females (and sometimes the other way around) I could almost hear the African drums pounding in the background. Everything was magnified. From the tiny little spit particles flying from the mouths of guys talking to girls to the groping hands and grinding on the dance floor. As the night wore on, the rooms became more crowded, sweatier and more “couples” made out aggressively against the walls. The not-so-lucky guys became more desperate, making quicker recoveries from rejection, heading directly to the next girl with panic-stricken looks on their faces. Not surprisingly, each time, the girls digressed in attractiveness.

At one point I was relieved to run into some old guy friends from school. Ahh, finally, people I could talk to, away from the madness of the Sahara. But I was quickly reminded of the very real-ness of the food chain when only four and a half seconds after "reuniting" with my friend, his buddy grabbed him by the collar, pulled him away and said "come here, check this one out." Right. I was getting in the way of a serious, single-focused mission. There was no time to chit-chat with old friends. If I wasn't participating, then I was intercepting.

The two most memorable characters of the evening had to be the two guys that were part of the Sopranos-look-a-like group sitting at a table off the dance floor wearing suits and ties. Yes. Full suits and ties. Two of them, apparently brothers, had a dance routine and rap-along to every song. Besides the regular rap hands they used during their raps, they had imaginary "props." My favorites were the air "lollipops" they waved in our faces for“Lollipop,” and the "guns" that they "shot" in the air for “Paperplanes.” Awesome.

But the creme de la creme, the HIGHLIGHT of my evening was the guy who approached me in the bathroom line and said: "You know, a lot of girls in here are blonde with big boobs. You don't have that. But you do have sex appeal. I like that." Wow. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Not that I think I have a huge rack or anything, but I also never considered them “not big” either. Not before that at least. So thanks. Also, since when did being brunette deserve a consolation speech? I'm glad that despite my "shortcomings" I have enough "sex appeal" for you to talk to me. Considering the fact that you just got rejected by the girl behind me in line, I'm flattered.

Anyway, Foxtail (fill in any other LA club here,) thanks for creating another memorable night in LA. I knew I could count on you to bring all the most ridiculous people of this city together in one place. You never let me down.

Dear Readers,

I am sorry I have abandoned you for so long. It is not for lack of interest but lack of material. I don't want to write just to write. I want to be inspired. Sure, there were people at Costco and Best Buy this weekend that I wanted to write a letter to, and yes, I imagine shooting off each and every car in front of me on the way to and from work every day...and of course that guy at the DNC party on election night who kept sneaking his hand on the lower part of my "back" deserves a letter...but nothing super inspiring.

To be honest, I was put off by a comment I received a few weeks ago (that I did not publish) that said this blog should be renamed "complain-town" or "negative-ville." So I was trying to avoid using this forum as a bitch-session. But then I thought how my favorite shows, movies and songs are all forms of bitch sessions about life. Take Office Space and The Office, the typical characters portrayed are essentially a form of bitching about the types of people who annoy us at work. Or John Mayer's lyrics in the song "Stop This Train," are: "so scared of getting older, I'm only good at being young..." and he gets Grammy buzz and sold out shows. So why am I not allowed to poke fun at the things I encounter throughout the day without being called "negative" or pegged as a "complainer"? The only recognition I get is from Amazon.com recommending that I buy the book How To Be An Adult every time I log on to my account.

Although I am not as talented as John Mayer or Steve Carrell, I am entitled to bitch about whatever I want on my own blog. And for those of you who want, I am asking you to join me. Give a piece of your mind to the guy whistling behind you in line at the grocery store, the salesman with the terrible breath, the random people who add you on facebook, or anyone else who you can't bitch to in person. Believe me, it feels good. Leave a comment on this blog, in letter format, (no profanity please) and if it's not terrible, I will publish it. Happy bitching.

Dear Halloween,

I am so excited for you! I know it is still a week away but I am so proud of myself for picking the costume I wanted and not just the one that every guy I know picked because of the fishnet thigh-highs.

Dear Yogurtland,

Dear Yogurtland, I want you bad. I promised Skinny Jeans it was over between us, but I need to have you. I remember how delicious you tasted on my lips. Our times together were so right but yet so wrong. I want to come over, but what will those high school kids that hang out in front think if I show up there all by myself at 10pm on a Saturday? Will I have to limit the amount of yogurt I get to save some dignity? Maybe I should change out of my pajamas so that I don't look like a total slob? Is there any way I can downplay the fact that getting yogurt is the highlight of my evening? I already "splurged" on a club sandwich today. I mean, do I really need yogurt? Maybe if I could just have a little, I would get over you and not think about you all the time. Who am I kidding? Every time I show up at your door, I feel like a junkie begging for a hit. I see the other junkies there too. Some have no shame and they sit or stand right outside devouring their 44 oz of crack. Others walk hurriedly to their cars, nonchalantly sneaking bites, acting as if they are not dying to get home and indulge. As I turn the corner to walk in, my heart stops. Do I really want to do this??? But I walk through the door anyway, heart racing, feet dragging...I think to myself that there is still time. I can turn around and walk away. Just because I am here does not mean I have to go through with it. I am strong enough. I can do this. Leave NOW! I ignore the voice and ask for a sample cup. Even though I have been here a million times and tried every flavor more than once, I ask for a sample cup. After a few tastes, I grab a serving cup and head to the Peanut Butter nozzle, then Heath Bar, Blueberry and Pistachio...the next thing I know I am at the toppings counter, adding so many sprinkles that the store clerk is cleaning up my mess. I put my cup on the scale and don't even care that my total comes out to $5 while the girl next to me pays $1.49, because of course, this will be the "last time" I give in to your temptation. Then, I'm telling you Yogurtland, I won't be back.

Dear Honda Pilot driver in the lane next to me at the stoplight this morning,

Why did you shake your head & roll your eyes at me? Was it because I was putting concealer on under my eyes? Oh, I get it. You're passing judgment on me. You're thinking that I'm a typical girl doing my makeup in the car. But, I swear, I'm so much deeper than that! There are so many levels of depth to me you have no idea! If you only knew...that I was listening to Ryan Seacrest on KISS FM & texting on my blackberry messenger! So, next time you want to pass judgment on someone, think again.

Dear Sensitive People,

Everything I say is not meant to be taken literally and/or as an attack on you. I am actually just kidding. By the way, have we met? Just wondering. Because I've been sarcastic for as long as I can remember, and certainly as long as you've known me. So quit taking my facebook comments, emails, texts, blackberry messages, IMs and comments in person and over the phone so seriously! Thanks for stopping by.

Dear girl in the elevator,

I acknowledged you because we went to the same law school, so when I responded to your question about where I was working, it really wasn’t necessary for you to tell me that you too applied for my job, but after you were offered the position you decided to take another job, in the same building that is “better” and “pays more.” Um, manners? Also, one of the partners at the firm told his assistant that when you called to turn down the job, you told him you were working in the building for a firm but you "didn't know the name of it." Fitting.

Dear girl at Toast on Saturday,

I saw you order it & I saw it arrive, but after we left, were you really able to eat both the New England Clam Chowder and stack of pancakes? Yikes.

Dear Passive Aggressive People,

How am I supposed to know what you want if you don't TELL me?????????

Dear Skinny Jeans,

Dear skinny jeans, what happened to us? We used to be so perfect for eachother...you complemented me and I you..but now you cling to me too tightly and when I come home I just need to get away from you... How did this happen? Is it really all my fault? Was it all the summertime drinking? The late night stuffed French Toast with warm fruit topping? Or was it the dinners at LA's finest where I justified fatty bone marrow because it was, of course, Pizzeria Mozza? Or the various cheese plates and bread I "sampled" at different restaurants on weeknights? Maybe it was the trip to NY where I was on vacation and I couldn't possibly watch myself on vacation? Or that time at Yogurtland when I "treated myself"? No...it had to be that half bag of candy corn I had before dinner on my way home from the gym. But why didn't you give me more warning signals? I have been behaving this way for months, but our relationship ended so suddenly. I mean, I have to admit, I knew I was pushing it toward the end....but I thought you didn't mind that I was cheating here and there...I thought we would still be okay. But no, you made it VERY clear that our relationship is not going to work like this. I can't believe you can be so fickle! What about all the office birthday cake I passed up for you? All the donuts and bread baskets? Costco pizza and....all my other favorites? Have you so quickly forgotten about Da Vid who costs a fortune and makes me keep my heart rate at 170 during leg presses? What about all the egg whites and protein shakes?? The Atkins bars?? Didn't those mean anything to you????!! Look, I know that I have been slipping lately. But I want you back SJ. Things just aren't the same without you...we belong together.

Dear _______,

Dear guy in the Whole Foods parking lot who was backing your Prius into the car behind you and when she honked, you leaned ALL the way out of your window up to your waist and yelled: "I can see you in my leee-tel mone-i-tore in my car," you made me laugh.

Dear Los Angeles Prius Owners, I find you to be really annoying. Mostly because there are SO many of you now. Last night the parking lot at Whole Foods looked like a Prius dealership. Most of you drive too slowly & don't pass busses that are stopped in the far right lane or cars that are making right hand turns. What is WRONG with you?? GO!!!! Then there are those of you that are angry drivers. Really? You are going to speed past me and cut me off in your Prius? You make me want to waste gas.

Dear people who put candy corns right next to the register at Rite Aid, are you trying to ruin me?

Dear guy "friends," when did it become okay for you to say things like "I miss your smile" and to put your arm around me and/or on my leg? hmmmm.....let me clarify: not okay. We are friends. Friends don't let friends put a hand on their leg. Consider yourself warned.

Dear guy in spin class on the bike next to me, can you NOT tilt your head & breathe on me the entire class please? Thanks.

Dear closest friends who have not yet read my blog, don't talk to me unless you do.

Dear _______,

Dear girl at the gym on Friday who changed into a bikini and heels at 8pm, just curious, where are you going??

Dear lady in the locker room, please don't sing along to the music.

Dear girl at Hush dancing on the stage making sultry faces and obsessing over yourself in the mirror, yeah, we can see that too.

Dear drummer at Hush with a following of groupies who only plays when the mood strikes, don’t wear aviators.

Dear fourteen year-old girl at Forever 21 on Hollywood Blvd who repeatedly announced to your friend that she “ditched you for school the other day,” we get it. You didn’t go to school and you are a rebel.

Dear fourteen year-old Asian kids in my back yard this morning who told me that my neighbor told you it was “cool” to hang out and smoke there, it’s not. And my neighbor is a loser.

Dear people who show me pictures of their god children and want me to ooh and aww, stop it.

Dear _______,

Dear Guy at Bar Lubitch that dresses and acts like Jesus, I think it's really cool that you have shoulder length hair and a beard and wear a white v-neck t-shirt and a cross around your neck and lean effortlessly against the bar as you make gentle movements. Then, when I tell you that you look like Jesus you respond: "Thanks. I've never heard that before" in a completely sarcastic tone. Wow. So you have heard that before? So you actually go around LA playing the part? You took LA egocentrism to a WHOLE new level. You superceded what I thought was possible in this town. Way to set the bar.
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Dear Girl in the Hosiery department at Nordstrom, thanks for helping me find some cool tights and not laughing at any of my jokes. Your seriousness in the most quiet department of the store did not make me uncomfortable at all...
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Dear Lady returning her shoes at Norstrom, thank you for putting on the biggest scene imaginable after the store manager explained to you that the $379 designer shoes you bought and wore were not refundable. I think the fact that you were yelling at the top of your lungs was a good tactic to get your money refunded and pull the same scheme with a different pair of shoes all over again. Nice work.
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Dear Mercedes Driver who would not let me get over this morning on 6th when I was stuck behind a bus and you were trying to stick to the car in front of you just to push ahead when I was actually there before you, I really had to cut you off because you saw me and you were being a jerk. But your silver mercedes is really shiny.
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Dear Guy on the elevator who pushed 21 and 22, Thanks.
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Dear Guy who texted me the other night: "I remember u being hot but I forget what u look like, send me pics." Does this tactic actually work for you? Also, stop sending me late night texts. I am not interested.

Writing Letters

Last night, as I was looking at facebook on my phone before I went to bed (which is actually a bad habit that needs to be stopped because it is too stimiulating) I saw a post by a guy from my high school, who although never directly bullied me, was part of that bullying group. I wondered why the f I was friends with him on facebook & I thought about writing him a letter. I wondered what I would say in that letter. And of course, then, I realized how crazy that would be. But still, I really wanted to write the letter. This got me thinking...about how many people there are that I would like to "write letters" to. The girl in the department store from earlier that day, this guy that text me the other night with the most ridiculous text, people ALL over LA that I would like giving a piece of my mind to. So, I just started writing these letters & I think it's hilarious. I hope you do too...because it is going to make up most of the content of my blog from now on (until it gets boring.)

NYC

The world of possibilities seemed to open up after just one weekend in New York. I have a new found love: The West Village. Quaint. Neighborhoody. Cute restaurants/cafes/bars. I have a feeling that it was all smoke and mirrors because the weather was so beautiful & I was only in town for 2 days. But I'm inspired!