Dear Union Square Café,
While I’ve enjoyed recent additions to your farm fresh menu, it’s the stand-by signature dishes that keep me and everyone else coming back. So imagine my shock when I witnessed the current version of your Banana Macadamia Tart. Yes, the flavors are similar. But the banana, instead of sliced on the diagonal and beautifully fanned atop the tart, a design detailed in your cookbook available for sale at the bar, was just curled whole around the pastry bottom. Simply put, it resembled a sugar-crusted and lightly singed turd. Please introduce your new and apparently lazy pastry chef to a knife and the original recipe so he can get on board.
Best,
A Disappointed Diner
(who was too embarrassed to complain because the plate was still licked clean)
Dear Broadway, Off-Broadway and Regional Theatre,
For the love of God, please try to produce more decent plays in the near future. If I continue to walk out of productions at intermission, or curse the lack of an intermission so that I’m forced to sit through something painful like the musical version of Coraline, I just might stop showing up altogether. And no, I was not one of the four people snoring in harmony while Coraline sang to the cat for the third time. I was too busy determining the least disruptive exit to bother with sleep.
Regards,
A Wavering Fan of the Arts
Dear Dusty Treadmill in My Living Room,
Fuck you.
Yours Truly,
The Lazy-Ass Who Oftentimes Can Be Found Horizontal on the Neighboring Sofa Eating BonBons and Flipping You Off
Dear Therapist,
In four sessions, you’ve taken me further than any previous shrink. I’m changing behaviors, working to anchor the past in the past instead of letting it tread upon the present and dictate my future. And while I giggled on the inside at your bordello decor, and I quietly balked at the value of EMDR, I was wrong. They both work. So please accept my formal apology for originally questioning your judgment. And keep doing what you’re doing. I’m better off because of it.
Love,
Your Tuesday 2pm Patient

12 comments:
I'm a Wednesday 5:30 girl myself. :P
Hilarious on the first letters, so touching in the last. I'm glad for you.
You're writing is open and honest - I look forward to following you on this new journey...Sounds like it's going to be eye opening for you. Best of luck!
(thanks for the note, too)
*your. i hate it when i do that.
I don't think I'm even allowed in any theatres on Broadway ... and that's probably a good thing.
Okay, I'm for sure, OFFICIALLY, a fan. Holy shit, you're hilarious. The whole treadmill bit was hilarious, and so true. I am lucky that my treadmill sits idly (and dusty) in the recesses of my mind, and I'm happy to keep it there. Please follow me later when I start my new blog about customer service. Will you? I'll need all the readers I can get (I'm aiming for a seven-figure book deal from anyone who will give it to me). It's been in the works for some time, but the sudden shock of unemployment tends to damper the creative process.
Hugs!
I find Prozac, and its successors, to be effective in curbing my appetite, allowing me to endure the mundane, not care about exercising, and cut my therapist visits in half.
Sadly, I've become anorexic, blase', lethargic, lonely, and best of all, I just don't care.
Better living through chemistry.
The arts are boring, that's why I'm sticking with sports. You can't fall asleep during a football game, even when you are fall-down drunk.
Trust me on this.
If you don't tell me the next time you're in NY, we're breaking up!
I want the name of your therapist. The four-hour commute south would be a bitch, but sounds like it might be worth it.
I'm so glad you're back! Have been reading your blog for a while and your writing is a total inspiration to me. Thanks!
Definitely hungry now, singed turd or not, that treat sounds yum.
My treadmill taunts me. It calls me names no one else could get away with. So I stomp on it.
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