An Open Letter to Those Who Bring Happiness

Dear Maya Angelou- I appreciate you putting into poetry the words I so forcefully think in my head- “Life doesn’t frighten me, no not at all.” Even though there are times when life makes me want to crawl into a six foot hole dragging the dirt in after me. But nevermind about that.

Dear Lady Gaga- I greatly look up to you and your bizzare get-ups. I adore the fact that you don’t seem to care how scary you end up looking, and that you are still at the top of the charts while doing so. It will make it much easier for me to become famous now, because nobody will be looking at my style faux-pas; they will all be looking at you.

Dear my Incredible Auntie- When people say that we look exactly the same, I do not cringe, because I aspire to look like anyone who has fantastic kids like yours, has her own business that she enjoys immensely, and isn’t afraid to pray- “Dear Jesus, thank you for chow mein.”

Dear Audrey Hepburn- Thank you, thank you, thank you, for being beautiful and amazing and classy. You are proof that one or two failed marriages is not something to worry over, and proof that a “princess” is not just someone you can play in a movie. I am saddened that you are dead, because it would have been nice to meet you.

Dear Gramma- Despite the fact that you have grown increasingly blunt in recent years, I find it quite humorous when you truthfully tell me that my choice in hair color is “hideous.” I would like to inform you once again that as a child, my hair was blonde, and it never has, in fact, been beautifully natural black like you tell everyone it is. I think you are confusing me with my half-sister. Thank you for being always honest- even if it is in an Alzheimer’s patient kind of way.

Dear Prince (to clarify- the artist formerly known and once again known as)- I want to thank you for noticing that “all that glitters ain’t gold.” and for your funky falsetto, as it has greatly entertained me for many years. I find you to be immensely talented; however, I regret to inform you that though I would love to be a guest on one of your albums, I will not be asking you to produce my debut album. Your style is a little bit too messy for my taste. Kudos on the Under the Cherry Moon soundtrack though.

Dear H.E Ellis– Even though my Rockstar doesn’t find me worthy of marriage, I know you are out there ready to marry me whenever you turn lesbian. You are very good for my ego.  XOXO

Dear numerous candy-producing companies- Without you, I would have drifted through life without the benefit of sugar-induced energy. Thank you for providing me with Starburst, Butterfingers, Milky Ways, Laffy Taffy, Blow Pops (which also served me in my first attempts at learning how to give a blow job), 5th Avenues, etc…

Dear Jim Beam and Co.- Thank you for providing liquor strong enough to get my Rockstar jumping on the bed with his guitar. Also,  with your help, I found out he can sing just like Sinnead O’Connor. That was a little bit disturbing, but highly entertaining. It  gave me good fodder with which to tease him mercilessly.  You also induced the most amazing drunken sex I’ve ever had. Thank you again for that.

Dear Chris Meloni- Thank you for your beautiful scowl. And other beautiful parts of you.

XOXO,

Sparklebumps