Letters to reality TV shows

Dear ABC/The Bachelor/Chris Harrison:

Did you really need to take up four whole hours this week with your show? I mean, I know it was officially 'The most dramatic Finale ever' and everything, but seriously. Four hours?

Look, I can write it in three sentences: Jason was a good guy everyone loved, so they gave him his own show where he could hook up with as many girls as he wanted with no consequences. Turns out Jason is a Douchebag and in addition to getting way more than his 15 minutes of fame, also gets a lot of money from ABC to propose to one girl, and then break up with her and switch to another girl in front of millions of viewers. Oh yeah, and the next bacholorette is from Canada.

See?

Succinctly summing up your show -
me



Dear Chris Harrison/Host of above-mentioned show:

I really want to know if you're as invested in these people on your show as you say you are, and as you appear to be. It's kind of like while these people are looking for love, you're auditioning for new best friends. I have to say dude, it's a little weird/pathetic.

And the fact that you are getting SO worked up about defending the show against all the conspiracy theories and the people saying it doesn't work (How many succesful couples out of 16 seasons? 1.) is just boggling. Just maybe get another job, take a vacation? Just suggesting.


Sincerely-
me



Dear American Idol-
Every time that new judge opens her mouth all I hear at home is 'I am important, and therefore will talk forever about really generic things. Don't interrupt me, I am still talking.' And what's weird is, it's not my TV with the problem, it's her face.

Figured it out -
me


Dear American Idol Judges -

If when you say to someone 'You have too much of a musical theatre voice' you really mean 'You have an amazing voice and are way too good for this competition.' Then yes, I agree with you when you say that to contestants. Even if you say it like it's a bad thing.

Theatrically yours-
me

Dear Makers of Homestyle Two-Bite Cupcakes:

Dear Sir or Madam, or both:

I just wanted to inform you that your cupcakes are at least three or four bites big. And I think my mouth is pretty normal sized. Perhaps we should just call them mini-cupcakes, and then we don't force anybody to put more in their mouth than possible.

Just a suggestion.

Respectfully,
me

Dear dude running down the street:

If you are wearing a stocking hat, a scarf, a big coat and gloves, perhaps your bun huggers are not that appropriate for the bottom portion of your ensemble.

Come to think of it, I don't think bun huggers are ever an appropriate choice for clothing.



Just watching out for you -
me

Dear Work Ethic:

Alas, it seems like you and I will have to part ways for a while, because the more I hang out with you, the more everybody else sees me as a person that can do all the crap they can't get done. And the more I pronounce you faithfully as a friend, the more 'new jobs' I get added to my job description. And sadly, every time I come back from a great time spent with you, new projects have magically appeared on my desk, in my inbox, and in my boss's head for me.

So here's the deal, trusty friend, I can only see you in secret, when nobody is really watching. If I'm out in public again with you, I think I might start having to take a larger does of Prozac, due to the unusually large quantities of work that will find their way to me. But don't worry, I will be back in full force soon. It's not a break-up, it's a trial-separation.

Sincerely,
The overwhelmed and overworked girl who started out as temp and three weeks later has more responsibility than half the people in her building.

Dear Ladies at the Post Office:

A couple of things:

1.If I am the only person in the lobby with you, and you are talking in a normal volume, chances are, I can hear you. Especially when I catch snippets of the conversation that are about me. Like ‘That purse is really orange, isn’t it Bertie?’ or ‘do you think that purse is real crocodile? How do they get Crocodile in orange?’ Or my favorite ‘It’s too bright of a color, I think. I wouldn’t use it. It’s too much.’

Great. You wouldn’t have bought my bag. Good to know. In fact, I am so concerned about what you think about my purse, that I will immediately go out and buy something in a muted pastel blue. Or even better, the least offensive of all the beige ones I can find. And when I do, I will come back in, turn my back to fill out a label, and hope that you have another conversation about how wonderful my purse is so this time I can be validated as a human being.

2.Secondly, when I tell you that I’m trying to get my envelope to it’s destination the next day, that is not an opportunity for you to pluck another 12 dollars from the pocket of my recently unemployed-and-just-found-a-temporary-job-but-haven’t-received-a-paycheck-yet self.

I shouldn’t have to find out from another employee that there’s no need for that express mail package I just worked ten minutes on, and that first class mail will get there in one day because it’s so close to our zip code. Seriously? Why couldn’t your co-worker offer up this information instead of barely flicking her glance up off of her computer screen and then telling me completely erroneous facts in a tone suggesting that I was barely worth the time it took to speak them?

3.When I am standing right in front of you and you roll your eyes, I can most definitely see it.

4.I’m sincerely sorry you hate your job. I’m sincerely sorry you seem to dislike people in general. In fact, I’m sincerely sorry that I ever walked into your particular post office expecting to mail a letter. I mean really, what kind of gall must I have?


Sincerely –
The Fiesty Brunette.

Dear Carl Peterson:

It's about time, you SOB!!!!

Thrilled -
me ( and the rest of KC)

Dear Beyonce/Sasha Fierce:

If he liked it, then he probably WOULD'VE put a ring on it. Did you ever think about that?

So very tired of your song in my head-
me