Dear, Dear...

Dear June... Where did you go?? It's hard to believe we've reached that point in the year where the days start getting shorter again. 

Dear Parks... Your beautiful green lawns are now bone dry. It's nice to know our local parks are doing their part in conserving water, but it's a grim sight. Hopefully we'll get more rain to perk you up a bit. Though dry lawns are probably the least of our worries.

Dear Neighbors... I'll withhold judgment until later this summer, but I can't help but notice some of you have lawns which are still lush and green. Withholding judgment...

Dear Menchies... You sure knew what you were doing when you put in that pump filled with Reese's peanut butter, huh? It's enough to make a person skip the frozen yogurt altogether. Green spoon, please.

Dear Chris Pratt... I certainly enjoyed your performance in Jurassic World. Those clever girls were no match for that smolder. Click click. Here I was thinking nothing could compete with Jeff Goldblum's Dr. Ian Malcolm, but I was wrong. OKAY?? I admit it. Click click. I guess this means our goofy Andy Dwyer is all grown up. Still goofy, but now with muscles and a motorcycle. And a couple new franchises under his belt. Click click.

Dear Jeff Goldblum... I'm kidding, of course. Have you considered a cameo in the next Jurassic film? 

Dear Facebook... I just can't for a little while. I'm wasting too much time on your foolishness, scrolling my life away and letting you corrupt my sense of self. The comparison game is getting old and so are the bigoted relatives. So I'll take a little distance, if you please... A little further... Thank you.

Dear Anxiety... You know that thing you do when you make me obsess and worry about not getting something I want? Such fun! How about leaving me alone after I actually GET the thing instead of making me worry about whether I really want it after all. 

Dear Ryan Adams... Thank you for surpassing my expectations and for just being the weird, wonderful person you are. Also, thank you for coming to Red Butte Gardens where I could get as close to the action as I liked. Which was pretty close. Come back soon.

Dear Pinterest... What criteria do you use when picking pins "for me?" Yesterday you recommended a pin of a t-shirt that read "Don't flatter yourself Cowboy, I was looking at your truck." Do you know me at all?? 

Dear Chick-Fil-A... That spicy chicken sandwich.

Dear Left Hip... OW. Ow ow ow ow...

...OW.

Sincerely,

The girl who isn't looking at you OR your truck.

Lauren's Open Letters...

Dear Pinterest,

Cool it with the near-pornographic health & fitness pins of women flexing their tanned, air-brushed bottoms in tiny panties. Do you want to motivate women or discourage them before they even know what your "booty-licious butt workout" is all about? Sounds gross. Looks grosser. 

Dear Rain,

More... MOOORRREEEEE!!!

Dear Important Public Figures Who Die And Are Suddenly Quoted By The Masses Online, 

I guess we're honoring your legacy by recalling all the beautiful things you said while you were still with us. Things we once pinned on Pinterest. Or scribbled on a Post-It we later placed on our bathroom mirrors as encouragement. (Maybe that was just me...) Yes, hopefully now we'll try a little harder to live by your wisdom... But let's also hope your words were attributed correctly on the internet to begin with.

Dear Cute Sandwich Guy,

Thanks for making my tasty turkey and cranberry sandwich on wheat. Though I'd still probably thank you even if you weren't cute, as attractiveness usually doesn't signify any guy's ability to make a tasty sandwich. But then this would be addressed to "Sandwich Guy" instead of "Cute Sandwich Guy," so... 

Dear Guy Running Next to Me On A Treadmill,

Uh-oh... You’ve jammed your machine a couple times now... I'm not sure hanging off the console like that is good running form. Looks a bit awkward. And you seem fit - I saw you walking upright when you got here! Just run with the treadmill, not against it. And if you can't, ease up on the incline and dial back the speed to a more comfortable pace. "It is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength." That's why you see me just chuggin' along. Let's chug together.  

Dear Ichiban Sushi,

Thank you for the extra eel sauce! You know you don't drizzle enough of that stuff on your Vegas Roll... Next time I think I'll just have a bowl of the eel sauce with my sushi as a side. 

Dear This,

I haven't heard of a Northern gentleman, but I do think an English gentleman trumps a Southern gentleman every time. I could drop a few names if you'd like...

Dear Girl Who Keeps Referring to Herself as a Solid 7,

I've heard you repeat the same dating stories a few times now. Stories in which you relate all the reasons why, on a scale of 1 to 10, you think you're a 7. Or how you've dated a bunch of zeros. As a Solid 3, I appreciate that you have better self-esteem than myself (unless this is really just an exercise in building confidence?) and yeah, I bet it is hard out there for a 7... But rating yourself and then gloating about it? I'm docking you a couple points. Which, I realize, would make me about a 1... Since I'm just sitting here complaining about you on the internet.  

Dear Roadkill Scattered All Over The Highway On My Way To Work,

You are one of the less pleasant signs of summer and you make me sad. Then after a few days, you make me sick. I often can't identify what you once were - probably something with a cute, furry face - but whatever your species, please save your little 4-legged selves and stay away from the road. Remember, that big loud thing with 18 wheels can move a lot faster than you and it doesn't care how cute you are.

Dear Adventure Time,

Like Spongebob Squarepants, you are funny, strange, and just a little bit perverted. Only slightly moreso.

Sincerely,

The Solid 3

P.S. Sometimes I hate everything I type (too snarky! too boring! too personal!), but then I consider the time I took to type it and the time it would take revising before I didn't hate it anymore... Aaaaannndd publish.

Dear...

Dear Old Navy...

If I buy your Sweetheart blue jeans in one size, I expect that same size to fit just as well in the black Sweetheart jeans. So stop it.

Dear Captain America...

Your new movie comes out in one week! I don’t know how it happened, but you are my favorite Avenger. (How did I come to have a favorite Avenger in the first place?) Maybe it’s because you’re from a bygone generation. Maybe I'm inspired by your humble beginnings – your father wasn’t a wealthy entrepreneur or a Norse God. Or maybe I’m more patriotic than I realize. If I’m honest, it’s likely because you’re played by Chris Evans. But whatever.

Dear Zumba...

If I didn’t have to share you with dozens of other sweaty women, I might attend more regularly. Isn’t there some sort of safety code we’re violating with this many people shoved in one dance room? Zumba’s hard enough without worrying about stepping on little old ladies every time I mambo or cha-cha. Oh, and more hip hop please!

Dear Boo...

You are so endearingly pathetic in your clear little Cone of Shame. It’s even more pathetic when you try to lick yourself through the plastic. If we didn’t think you’d gnaw off your leg, we’d remove it. Just embrace the cone for now. It serves a purpose beyond making us giggle whenever you saunter sadly into a room.

Dear Thursday...

Why-oh-why did you feel like a Friday?

Dear Malaysian Flight 370...

Okay, so what really happened to you? Because I don't believe anything I hear on the news anymore... The thought of crashing into the ocean is terrifying enough, but for a plane and its 239 passengers to just disappear completely? For weeks?? Anything they tell us now just sounds like a massive coverup. A debris field discovered off the coast of Australia? Satellite signals? Sonar imaging of the ocean floor? We'll see...

Dear Chris Martin (of Coldplay)...

Sorry about your recent "conscious uncoupling" from Gwyneth Paltrow. I read all about it (several times... in different articles...) on Yahoo. You should channel all that post break-up emotion into some melancholy new music. I would buy that album...

Dear Vacation Time...

Let's think of some fun ways I can use you up. We're nearing 8 months without a vacation... I don't need to go far... Just far enough.

Dear High School Reunion...

To go, or not to go? That is the question. I'm definitely leaning one way more than the other. Care to guess?

Dear Facebook Quizzes...

Thank you for validating my life in one of the most superficial ways possible. Based on the quizzes I've taken thus far, I work as a designer and live in London with my roommate and bestie Amy Poehler. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is my boyfriend, of course, but if I were single it would only be because I'm too attractive. The downside? I'm Lady Edith. 

Sincerely...

Lady Edith

Open Letters

Dear Still-Semi-New Job,

Thank you for coming around when you did. Everything has been going so WELL. So well that I don't even mind having to wake up at 6:30 (in the freaking morning) so I can make it to work by 8. What was mid-April Lauren so worried about??

Dear Outside,

How nice you've been lately! And thanks in advance for the weekend.

Dear Drop Dead Diva,

You're back! Season 3's exciting scream-filled cliffhanger (AAAHH!!) was almost too much for me, but Season 4's opener was sadly a little "meh." Too much build-up perhaps. I still love you, but hopefully the rest of the season isn't as lame as the first episode. Either way, I'll be watching!

Dear Handsome-Boy-With-Swagger,

I don't know how, but you successfully swagged your way through an entire church talk not too long ago. Impressive. How does one swag from over a pulpit? Wow. That sounds wrong.

Dear Olympus High School,

I'm sure that monstrosity of a new building will be really cool and more structurally sound (or whatever), but it tugs at my Titan heart a little every time I drive by and see you sitting in its ever-expanding shadow. So many memories... Some kinda painful and some truly wonderful. I think I'll need to make one last visit before you're reduced to a pile of rubble.

Dear This Picture,

NO. But I need a vacation. 

Dear Patrons of the Holladay Lyons Rec Center,

While navigating the parking lot, please don't whip around patiently waiting cars, park illegally, or block traffic. Please? I don't care if your kid is late for his little league soccer game or if you drive an Escalade or even if you're 117 years old. We're all stuck in this crowded parking lot together and we don't need you making us any stuck-er! 

Dear Newly-Wedded Brides,

While I appreciate your enthusiasm, not all your domestic endeavors need documenting on Facebook. Though we are all very impressed.

Dear Lauren,

Ouch. Maybe they've never made a casserole, okay?

Touche, Lauren... 

Dear Grandma, 

Thank you for dinner the other day and for always being such good company.

Dear Bridesmaid Dress,

Thank you for fitting properly. You weren't exactly cheap and shopping online is soooo frustrating. The search is over!

Dear Les Miserables Nay-Sayers,

Un-bunch your panties, will you? Go on, give them a nice un-bunching. Yes, film is an entirely different medium than theater, so chances are the movie will differ from a full-blown Broadway production. But it will be just fine. In some ways it may even be better. If you genuinely dislike anyone in the cast, I can't fault you for it. There are several actresses/actors working in the biz that I personally can't stand. For example... Lea Michele. And they considered her for Eponine. As it is, I think the movie looks and, yes - SOUNDS pretty good.

Ever-so Truly Yours,

Open Letters

Dear Google Images,

I thought my search was innocent enough. I was just a girl looking for a picture to put on her blog... I even had the safety feature set to moderate because past experience has taught me that regardless of how specific the search, some pretty weird/nasty stuff can still filter through… My safety feature has now been set to strict. Thanks for the eyeful, Google. Shudder…

Dear Guy-who-jumped-out-of-his-car-at-a-red-light-because-my-sister-honked-at-him-for-cutting-her-off,

Maybe you shouldn’t be such a reckless driver, cutting people off and scaring them to death. Maybe then they wouldn’t have to honk at you to make sure you knew they were there. Get back in your car and stop carrying on like a lunatic.

Dear Penelope Cruz,

Your blue dress at the Oscars was one of my favorites. I would like to borrow it sometime. Oh, and while I’m at it, may I borrow your figure? Seems a shame to take the one without the other. I can’t promise I’ll return either of them, though.

Dear Conda (Biggest Loser),

I don't know you, but I'm pretty sure I hate you. (How much do I hate her? Find out HERE!) And based on my research, so does America. You might not need to worry about me so much, but I know if my sister ever runs into you down a darkened alley it will not be… pleasant. Hopefully by then you will have shed enough weight to run for your life… because you’ll need to. She really hates you.

Dear Hair,

While you are currently a lovely shade of brown, I’m still getting sick of you. Time to chop, chop, chop.

Dear Unreliables (including - no - ESPECIALLY myself),

If you say you’ll do something or be somewhere, then do it. Be there! And if you can’t, please don’t say you will! You don’t want to be labeled as Le Flake. If you can’t be depended on, eventually no one will turn to you for anything.

Dear Zuppa’s,

Why does your Thai Peanut Chicken salad have to be so GOOD? I could eat it every day.

Dear Psych,

You return to television tomorrow night! You left us with quite the cliffhanger after your latest episode so I’m gonna need some answers… But I’m afraid those answers may lead us ever-closer to the end of the series, so maybe hold off on the answers for a while.

Dear Pillows,

You’ve been letting me down lately. Pun intended. I wake up with all sorts of pain in my neck and shoulders and I think it’s because no matter how much re-configuring I do during the night, I can’t find quite the right pillow formation for optimal sleeping. We’ve never had this problem before! Might be time for new pillows.

Dear Bloggers,

Why do some of you blog about how you don’t have time to... BLOG? If you do have time to pop by and share a little something, don’t devote the whole of your entry to writing about how you’re too busy to be there. I love it when I see new blog entries. I get very excited about them because I'm a little bit lame and probably have way too much time on my hands. But sometimes I get my hopes up and an entry will only talk about how the blogger doesn't have anything to blog about or they just don't have time. So, yeah... basically everything I had already deducted from your lack of blogging. In these instances of the absentee blogger, I just assume they have other stuff going on. No big deal. That, or they're dead. I hope it’s not the latter. Keep on blogging!

Dear Brother,

I love you! 

Dear Illegal U-Turner,

If you pull off on the shoulder of the road and completely stop your car, you’d better make sure there’s nobody else coming before you decide to randomly whip around and flip a U-ie (Ewe-y? U-ee?). Then I won’t have to nearly crash into you and, like my sister, honk my horn really loud and make angry faces at your face. You have a rearview mirror for a reason. And a turn signal. And a brain.

Dear Handsome-Boy-With-Swagger,

I don't like that other girls talk to you. Not that I ever would (or ever could) talk to you, but I don't want anyone else talking to you either. So stop it!

Dear Maple Bacon Donut,

When can we make this happen again?

Dear Me,

Do yourself a favor and go to bed early tonight. Nice and early. It will make waking up early that much easier. 

Yours,

More Open Letters

Dear Hair,

You are way too long. Stop it.

Dear Pants,

You are way too tight. Stop it.

Dear Family,

It was fun seeing you all over the weekend. We're never short on laughs! I think our get-togethers are too few and far between. 

Dear November,

You're beautiful! Let's keep these golden autumn days coming!

Dear Minute Maid Juice Boxes,

When will I ever learn that drinking too much juice at one time will inevitably lead to an upset tummy and a fussy Lauren? You were pretty sweet going down, but now you're causing quite the stir. Ugh.

Dear Tummy,

I'm sorry!

Dear Florence + The Machine,

Your newest song would be #1 on the current soundtrack of my life... "I'm always dragging that horse around." That burdensome, irritating, lump of a horse. "Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground." 

Dear Boo Kitty,

I'm sorry you didn't realize the window was closed before you tried to jump through it. You are one dumb kitty, but still pretty cute. 

Dear James,

No, YOU are my sunshine.

Blogged from here.

Dear Season 3 of Doctor Who (again... I know, I'm sorry), 

I think we're going to be okay. And I think (I think, I think) that Katie will tune in every once in a while so I'm not so alone in the world. Which is good news for everyone at the Waters household since they're pretty sick of my going on (and on and on) about a show they've never even heard of. 

ATTENTION: If anyone out there watches this show, don't be shy... I need a support group. Or an intervention.

Dear Self,

Unhappiness does not have to signify an absence of gratitude, so don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It is possible to feel sorrow and  gratitude at the same time. Sometimes it's
gratitude that saves us from our sorrows.

Dear Girlfriends,

We need a GNO ASAP! OK? LOL... JK... CUL8R? Haha...

Dear Brian Regan,

I look forward to seeing you in 2 months.

Dear Reader,

Good night.

With love.

From Me.

To You.

Open Letters

Dear Forever 21,

I am on my third pair of your sunglasses for this year alone. Let's hope this pair doesn't mysteriously disappear like the others. Otherwise, I will be back. And as usual, I will have a hard time leaving with ONLY the sunglasses. Maybe my subconscious is losing them on purpose...

Dear Cats on Treadmills,

You are hilarious. HI-LA-RI-OUS!

Dear In 'N Out,

I hear you'll be coming to Sugarhouse soon. That's just what I need... But thanks for dinner this evening all the same. You are delicious. Maybe more of a novelty than delicious, but still... You're up there when it comes to fast food fare.

Dear Michael Fassbender,

I think you resemble a young Christopher Plummer. And that's certainly not a bad thing.

Dear July,

You are too hot for words lately. Good thing we will part ways in less than 24 hours. Nothing personal.

Dear Secondhand Chic,

That green chair was absolutely charming and just what I need, but $48?? I will gladly give you $1 for my thimble, but the chair will have to wait.

Dear Box Fan,

I love you so. Thank you for saving me from July. You keep me cool and act as a noise buffer. Even now I sit here on the floor and let you blow cool air in my face. It's a beautiful thing we've got goin'.

Dear Jeremy H. Higginson,

I hope Wells Fargo returned your debit card and that you didn't fret too much at its absence. How it ended up on the sidewalk on 7th east between Downington and Garfield, perhaps we'll never know. Just be more careful in the future. No more throwing around the contents of your wallet will nilly.

Dear Computer,

Thanks for behaving. You gave me quite the scare there with your "crash dump" warnings and your random shutting down. Good thing I've dealt with this kind of thing before...

Dear Sandra Bullock,

I want your hair a la Miss Congeniality. NOW! 

Dear Post,

Are you kidding me with this Mini Cinnamon Churros cereal?!?! It's delicious. 

With all my love and affection...