dear electric blue sheets: i guess this is what i get when, in effort to not spent $378, i order two sets of “sea mist” pottery barn sheets online on clearance. so much for my idea of an organic-feeling, beachy-neutral calming color palette in my bedroom.
dear neighbors: i wonder what my new terrier is going to think of your over-manicured grass tufts when i walk him across your lawn.
dear 2010: i love, love, love my new calendar. so much so that i already hung it up in my studio, just waiting to reveal its clever typographic riddles.
dear paper source: i had a particularly challenging time tracking down your paper color swatchbook this year. ah, but it was worth the wait!
dear boyfriend: witnessing you discover san francisco brewcraft, a home brewing supply store in our new ’hood, was like watching a kid in a candy store. i suppose beer, wine and mead supplies are, indeed, adult confections.
dear s’more: after a fright-filled friday the thirteenth that began with a crackhead punching me in the back of the head on the bus (i was fine, just shocked) you are just the ticket. i was told by a college roommate that you could make delicious s’mores in the microwave but, as a mainer and former girl scout, i didn't believe her for years. i was wrong.
dear bad paint job: i dreaded shutting myself in to our twee sunroom so i could close and paint the pocket door, and then wait for it to dry before opening the door to leave the room. but i couldn’t imagine my joy when i encountered shreds of old latex paint curling off the door, which probably hasn’t been moved in 40 years.
dear fellow atm users: this is a definite pet peeve of mine– you leaving your receipt in the machine. this particular atm gives you a blinking red option to print, or not print a receipt. you have to actively push this button to get it to print. so why do you walk away? now i have to take it and dispose of it, in order to get my receipt. or i can leave it for the next person, so the saga continues…
dear bedroom window shades: thank you for being the one thing, thus far, that has been installed with relative ease in our new apartment.
dear nicolette: the trampoline dodge-ball party was definitely the most hilarious (and exerting) version of a 30th birthday celebration i have experienced. especially since we shared the venue with a 10-year old’s birthday party.
dear seemingly healthy, agile, strapping, text-messaging young man on the unstable bus: notice the 80+ year old lady standing next to you, gripping the pole? yeah, her. you should offer her your seat, you self-absorbed jackass! i would give her mine, only i already just did so for her equally elderly friend.
dear tru blood beverage: you looked so swanky in your ads, not to mention on the show. but on the shelf, you look kinda sticky and trashy. and not in the good way that i so revere your tv series for.
dear starbucks: at least you waited until after halloween to launch your christmas drinks, unlike other retailers in the area.
dear toy store: what kind of toy is this? a disaster simulation tsunami wave maker, complete with tiny huts and trees to get washed into the sea? do you have a hurricane katrina waver maker as well?
dear post office: so many specific things are prohibited– bicycles, roller skates, skate boards, shopping carts… it makes me brainstorm other things on wheels that i could roll in on just to taunt you.
dear new neighborhood: the only clanging bells i have heard so far come from this church on sunday morning, and that’s fantastic.
dear stuff: six years and a few months ago, i moved to san francisco from the east coast with one suitcase. one bag filled with all my necessary possessions. how has that expanded this much?!
dear shoes: in the big box you go! minus the four pairs i kept handy, not knowing what outfits i would want to wear both friday night, and saturday during the actual move.
dear cable car: my last ride home from work on you. it went well, even if i did not get my favorite spot (front, right pole.) no doubt i will miss hanging onto you for dear life as you cut through the fresh air, when i am suffocating in some homeless person’s armpit on the bus, but without your clamor outside my window, i will be able to sleep again.
dear “no sloppy seconds” guy: you got someone to write your scripture in chinese, and then you waited by the bus stop that takes people home to chinatown. a new low.
dear cardboard collecting men: i see you all over the city, stuffing flattened cardboard boxes into every inch of your pickup trucks. do you get money for these boxes? or are you just really into recycling?
dear foreign travelers: despite what you may have seen in the movies about the summer of love, here in sf, i am pretty sure it is illegal for you to be sleeping in a van front of my apartment. especially as you have been parked overnight on a one-way cable car street. i am also pretty sketched out by the fact that the pop-up roof of your “house” is just about level with my bedroom window.
dear bud vase set: i like the idea of you, but in reality, i don't think i could keep up with a constant collection of fresh, tiny, button-like flowers.
dear mechanic beacon lights: you are highly appealing to me but i do not think you would work in my home– unless i build a basement morgue.
dear spooky dolls: you fill a shop window in my new neighborhood. in typical san francisco fashion, the purpose of the store is undecipherable—on the right side of the storefront, i stare at the congestion that is your army of creepiness. on the left, a large statue of a purple sphinx stares out at me.
dear fellow san franciscans: why do we even bother with the umbrellas? the rain comes at us slanted, sideways and upside down. the gale-force winds invert them at every intersection. building ledges wait until we are beneath them to release a random deluge of excess water, and muni buses hurl tsunamis at us when we cross the street. after today, the sidewalks will be strewn with dead umbrellas, like broken birds.
dear california academy of sciences: the last time i visited, the rainforest was closed so i didn’t get to appreciate how awesome it is! i especially love all the butterflies flittering around the dome. and the fact that you have a designated employee to “brush off the butterflies” when museumgoers exit.
dear peter pumpkin patch: you were quite the find, on our drive down hwy 1. i bought six pumpkins in various shapes and colors. i think we might actually get trick-or-treaters this year.
dear albino alligator: until you blinked, i thought you were a fake alligator, like a classic greek sculpture to keep the other alligators cultured.
dear my new home office: i decided on a muted purple wall color, which is supposed to provoke creativity.
dear moths: it’s amazing that most of us find you annoying when you flutter around our lamps and eat our sweaters, but dead, you are art.
dear starbucks barista: you were so quick to yell at my co-worker (who can be seen paying for his fresh brewed coffee behind your fashionista silhouettes) when he asked about your new product, “via” instant coffee. “IT’S NOT INSTANT GOD DAMN IT!!!!” you shouted for all to hear. and yet, your employer released this press release, did they not?
dear ikea: this was the most successful visit we’ve had to date, thanks to careful preparations on my part. these involved eight hours of sleep the night before, a square breakfast, continuous hydration and counting to three before reacting to various obnoxious but inevitable scenarios that make me despise the human race. the well-timed snack break before entering the market hall was what sealed the deal.
dear jellyfish: you remind me of the solar system, when you are floating around in a tank. on the beach however, you look like washed up bits of plastic trash.
dear kids in the park during school hours: i have two theories about what is going on with you. 1) you are honors students from the midwest on a field trip, and found it entirely appropriate to dress like what you think hippies and surfers are in california; or, 2) you are home-schooled jesus freak born agains from somewhere near death valley doing so-called “missionary work” in this city of derelicts. either way, you kept me entertained while i ate lunch today.
