Dear Students Who Are Always Asking for Grammer Help,

Here's a tip: grammar is spelled with an a at the end, not an e.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Bare-Chested Man Wearing Your Shirt On Your Head Who Hit On Me at the Bus Stop on State Street Tonight,

Thanks for the sound advice regarding what to do with guys who aren't, like, totally into me (, man). Thanks for the sight of the compelling tats across your ribs. Thanks for suggesting we celebrate the night (even though I -- rats! -- had to go home and finish some work). Sorry about your girlfriend whose name you overlooked in the canine descriptives you lobbied in her direction. How could anyone not go for a perfect 10 like you, a regular machine gun of profanity?

Above all, thanks for giving me a good story, and for entertaining all the others at our bus stop. Well worth the price of admission.

Hugs & kisses (or rather ... not),
B

Dear Large Corporation That Took Two Months to Interview Me and Lead Me On,

Thanks for hiring me. I hope I like you as much as I'll like the paycheck.

Hugs & kisses,

B

Dear Apartment,

I still love you.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Crotchety Old Wives Who Say "Three Times a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride,"

HA! Thwarted again!

You thought you had me, didn't you, with the last wedding I was in? And you thought you SUPER-had me with this fourth one in September. I know you did, because you're old wives who want to ruin the happiness of youth with inane sayings based in lies.

But I'm looking at two times a bridesmaid, two times a maid of honor, and that is not the same thing. Instead of indicating I am destined for spinsterhood, it shows, instead, that I am, in fact, REALLY good at developing relationships, deepening bonds and staying true over a long period of time. Two times a bridesmaid for friends I've had since birth and first grade. Two times a maid of honor for friends since ages 11 and 12. Two times a bridesmaid, two times a maid of honor: I am a prize for any guy who values loyalty and commitment.

Never a bride? More like building up a curriculum vitae that proves I'll rock as a wife.

(Anyone interested?)

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Coffee Shop Patrons,

You there, giggling loudly over board games on a Tuesday morning.  Do you see me?  Nursing three books, my computer, and a sugar-free latte?  Head tucked down, hair falling into my eyes, trying to think?  It's hard work, this thinking.  But you, you laugh about your game and your free schedule and your happy brain sighs in relief.  What then should I do?    

Love,

A

This guest letter brought to you by my dear friend A.

Dear American Girl Magazine,

When I was seven years old and reading your articles about how to set up a lemonade stand, what to keep in my tree fort, and how best to decorate sidewalks with various shades of chalk, I always had a vague sense you were writing to a different audience. No one in my neighborhood would bother to buy lemonade, and I never had a tree house. The nearest sidewalk was at least a mile away. Did that mean I wasn't an American girl? No, I never questioned my citizenship or cultural status, but I did believe your world was fictional.

Then I moved to Madison. In this place, families ride their bikes together, and children walk home from school in safety, and I passed at least two lemonade stands when I was out for a walk yesterday (a walk on sidewalks, no less). People play frisbee in the park and have tree fortresses in their backyards and jump on pogo sticks in their driveways. Even the streets are crisscrossed like an apple pie crust.

I officially live in the fictitious neighborhood you always assumed I lived in two decades ago, and I'm happy to see children living out the American Girl ideal, but there's something still a bit unsettling in seeing what I had heretofore assumed was fictional suddenly come real.

Does its reality imply that subrural east-coasters bereft of sidewalks, tree houses, and lemonade stands aren't as American as their midwestern counterparts? What does your magazine say today, I wonder. Do you write for all American Girls, or just the ones who live where you do? It's no surprise to me that you're based in Middleton, WI, just six miles or so from Madison. What of the country girls? The suburbanites? The inner-city dwellers? What about the American Girls living abroad with parents who are missionaries, ambassadors, or teachers?

I'm delighted to find myself in a lovely neighborhood today, but living this out has made me wonder what you're up to now as a magazine. Maybe I'll dust off Molly (yes, I'm from the era when the dolls were all from a specific "back then") and pick up the latest copy of American Girl to see whether anything has changed.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Prospective Jobs,

Here's a tip: if you require applicants to complete more than 1 page beyond the requisite résumé and cover letter, you're being ridiculous. Those of us who need jobs don't have time to spend three days on a 15-page application. We will be happy to fill out your application after you review our résumés for an initial fit, but requiring the completed application before we're even sure if we like each other? That's like asking a girl to make a three-course meal before deciding if you should take her on a first date.

(Hint: you won't get any dates that way.)

Hugs & kisses,
B

So it's 60° today.

Dear Climate,

Please don't die.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Madison,

You know I love you, but seriously. It's March. Enough with the Christmas decorations.

Hugs & kisses,
B