I’m sure you’ve sensed a bit of an ominous cloud settling over your part of the closet. Perhaps you’ve seen the scraps of denim littering the floor of my bedroom. Or maybe you’ve noticed that your comrades are starting to return to the jean pile as mere shadows of their former selves — half the garments they once were?
Well, I’m sorry to say your intuition is right. Your days are most definitely numbered. You won’t be long for long. Because it’s finally warm outside, which means my cutoffs obsession has begun. None of my full-length jeans are safe. You’ve got another week, maybe two, tops. And then? Snip, snip. Keep reading »
This is a difficult letter to write. But it has to be said. I’ve been struggling with my feelings about you for a long time now. I wasn’t sure how to express it all clearly and carefully, without hurting you. No one ever wants to hear that they’re not the cat’s pajamas. Believe me, I understand. Keep reading »
Dear Young Women On My Subway Car Yesterday,
I remember high school, a small world in which everyone feels like a character in an epic drama. A place where peers pass judgement and share hearsay as entertainment. Where few consider the appropriateness or repercussions of their conversations. Yesterday, the two of you stood in a New York City subway car and gossiped loudly about a classmate, making the entire subway car uncomfortable, especially as the story was about a teenage girl having sex in a public place. You laughed at her confusion about a possible pregnancy even though a condom was used. You proceeded to tell the intimate details of what she and her partner had done. I won’t share those details because my intention is not to shame the subject of your conversation. And besides, I have no right. Keep reading »
Dear formerly pregnant friends,
I know this is way, way overdue on my part — but I really owe you an apology for how I reacted when you excitedly told me you were going to be a mom. The minute “I’m pregnant!” came out of your mouth, I saw the look of pure joy and elation on your face. But what did I do instead of sharing in that happiness with you? I immediately started ranting and raving about how much your life was going to change — and not necessarily for the better. Read more on The Stir…
Dear Fantasy Girlfriend Carrie Underwood,
I want to preface this letter by letting you know that I am not a lesbian, nor do I plan on experimenting with women any time soon. With that said, I would certainly not kick you out of bed. In fact, you’re up there on the “People I’d Gladly Do If They Let Me” list with Paul Walker, Ryan Gosling and Tim McGraw.
While I was watching/sleeping through the CMA Awards last night, I was literally mesmerized by your legs. They’re perfectly toned, bronzed and otherworldly. For a moment, I thought I put my TV on mute, but it was just me—entranced by your limbs. You’ve had killer gams for a long time, but unfortunately, the trainwreck that was the 2013 CMAs, drew even more attention to the only appealing facet of the show other than Luke Bryan: your legs.
And since you exercised the shit out of those bad boys last night, perhaps you should take a seat because this might sting a bit. Here it goes … you sucked. Keep reading »
But don’t worry! It’s not because he’s worried about her prostituting herself, or that she’s using Black women and little people as props in her act, or that she’s not practicing proper tongue hygiene. No, the singer-songwriter is concerned about Miley’s grammar:
I can’t stop listening to #GetItRight (great song, great message, great body), but maybe you need a quick grammar lesson. One particular line causes concern: ‘I been laying in this bed all night long.’ Miley, technically speaking, you’ve been LYING, not LAYING, an irregular verb form that should only be used when there’s an object, i.e. ‘I been laying my tired booty on this bed all night long.’ Keep reading »
Miley Cyrus opened a can of worms when she told Rolling Stone that her “Wrecking Ball” video was inspired by the Sinead O’Connor classic, “Nothing Compares 2 U.” Naturally, this inspired the outspoken singer to pen a thousand-word missive to Miley and post it on her website. In true O’Connor fashion, her open letter cuts both ways — poignant and well, a little crazy. Some excerpts after the jump. Keep reading »
Just days after 12 people were killed in the Washington Navy Yard shootings, Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz penned an open letter to his customers respectfully requesting that they no longer bring guns into their 7,000 coffee shops. The company, which had previously supported by local “open carry” laws, has reversed its stance on firearms due to a recent “open carry” rally gone awry outside of a San Antonio store and some kerfuffles between pro and anti-gun activists. Read an excerpt from Schultz’s letter after the jump. Keep reading »
Damn you! You made me love you. I’ve been consciously resisting you since the late ’90s, when your chains starting popping up everywhere, putting my favorite high school coffee shop — Seattle Espresso — out of business. At first, I hated you on principle. I was young and idealistic and my favorite movie was “Reality Bites.” Then I got older and just hated you because your coffee sucks. Sorry, Jessica. Don’t get mad. I was a barista on and off in my late teens and early twenties. I know what a shot of fresh-ground, well-pressed espresso should taste like. I’m just gonna say it, Starbucks: your espresso tastes like burnt poop. (Full disclosure: I admit to, in times of extreme caffeine deprivation or desperation, drinking Starbucks. But this is only in extreme cases or when my dad takes me there because he loves your coffee.)
My half-hearted Starbucks boycott ended this weekend when I was starving and popped into one of your stores for a snack. I was thinking I would get a Kind bar to hold me over until I found something acceptable to eat and there they were staring up at me, looking all sexy, begging to be tasted. Your salad bowls. Hearty veggie and brown rice, zesty chicken and black bean and chicken and greens caesar salad bowl. Keep reading »