Open Letter to my Niece

Dear Niece,

You’re almost at the point of birth.  Pack up your room/womb and get ready to be born.   Your mother needs a cocktail.

That is all.

Love,

Your new aunt who loves you very much

Open Letter to Potbelly’s

Dear Potbelly Sandwich Works,

Your sandwiches lack imagination.

Sincerely,

Molly

Open Letter to People who think Ireland is in the UK

Dear Everyone who thinks that The Republic of Ireland is in the United Kingdom,

It isn’t.

From,

Liz

PS You may be thinking of Northern Ireland, in which case, you should have common sense to differentiate the two.

Open Letter to Southport Corridor

Dear Southport Corridor,

I really like how you are so sweetly nestled between Wrigleyville and the Belmont strip in Lakeview. I like how when I walk up to CVS, I can glance down Addison and see Wrigley Field through the shedding trees. You are a pocket of calm complete with Whole Foods and Starbucks set betwixt sports bahs and trannies. I like how if I start to miss the urban scene with all the emo hipsters, I can walk down to Broadway and go to Hollywood Mirror or Intelligentsia. You are centrally located Southport, but… your awesomeness doesn’t stop there… oh no… you have your very own Ann Sather’s, Julius Meinl and Potbelly’s… if that is not a sign of status, I don’t know what is.

Oh, Southport… I am so happy to live on you and be mere steps from the Brown Line.

Your Friend,

Molly

Open Letter to the Greatest Cat That Ever Lived

Dear Quincy,

Sometimes I still find one of your cat hairs around the house, or on a fleece jacket, or on a blanket that has been in storage, and I wonder, if I saved this strand of hair, could I someday have you cloned?

You are missed ol’ buddy.  You are missed.

Love your owner,

Kate Robbins

Open Letter to my Coworkers

Dear Coworkers,

I apologize for my footwear.  While you all wear strappy sandals or shiny loafers, I walk around in a pair of Asics.  You may be wondering why this is.  I will tell you.  I don’t have many shoes or even ‘work shoes’ that I like wearing.  I need more shoes.  However, I am a giant living in a small land.  I can’t find many shoes that are my size, let alone that I like.

I hope that clears a few things up.

Love,

Liz

PS Zappos – expect to hear from me soon.

Open Letter to the Northern Irish News

Dear Northern Ireland,

Cheer the f*ck up. There’s more to life than shootings, beatings, arson attacks, funerals. etc. I know death is a way of life with you due to the “Troubles” but it’s time to move on. When unemployment is the “And finally…” cheerful piece at the end of the TV news you know it’s time for a shake up. This is where we need a United States of Europe just to drown you people out into obscurity.

You have 48 hours.

 

Regards,

A Northern Irish exile (of sorts)

Open Letter to the Isle of Man

Dear Dial Oman,

You are a wonderful little country.  You’re completely driveable in a single day.  You have the oldest consistent government.  Your icon is three male Rockettes kicking.  I call it ‘the Kicker’ which is why I sometimes refer to your island as ‘Kicker Island.’  You also have a pretty big wheel that powers something.  The Bee Gees lived on your shores for some time.  And your official cat is the Manx.

All of those qualities make you completely wonderful.  My only suggestion is to work on your food.  Fried food is so passe.  You should call Gordon Ramsay – he’ll fix you up.

Until next time,

Liz xoxo

Open Letter to the Producers of Mamma Mia! The Movie:

Dear Benny, Bjorn, Gary, Tom, and Rita,

Thank you for making a film version of ‘Mamma Mia!’ the story of a plucky young lady and her sassy mother who find ways to express themselves through song, specifically the songs of ABBA.

I will admit, I haven’t been a huge ABBA fan throughout my whole life, saving most of my heart for Led Zeppelin, Jack Johnson, Tom Petty, and Sublime, but after this weekend ABBA burst into my heart with their sparkly jumpsuits and catchy songs and hip bumped them out of contention.

So, thank you for that. Thank you very much. I really mean it. I do, I do, I do, I do.

Love,
Liz

Open Letter to Mark McGwire

Dear Mr McGwire,

Your time may have come and gone but what is with the spelling of your name? Where the hell does that ‘w’ come from? Your name is a Celtic name, prominent in Fermanagh, yet there is no ‘w’ in the Celtic world. You’ve butchered the Maguire name!

Why can’t you be more like Tobey or, to a lesser extent, Jerry?  Are you on drugs or something?!

Yours truly,

Fermanagh Area Residents Committee (FARC)

PS This FARC is not be confused with the FARC in Colombia
PPS McGuire is also acceptable