An Open Letter to Parents

This post originally appeared over at Lefty Pop.  But it’s a PSA which warrants repeating.


Dear Parenting Dynamo,

I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but there are other people who must share this planet with you and your offspring.  We are walking on the same sidewalks, shopping in the same stores, and standing in the same lines.  And while little Brently’s unruliness may be cute to just slightly annoying to you, trust me, it’s damn near unbearable for others.


Hey, can you get off your phone for a quick sec?  Over here, good, now focus for a moment.  You see your daughter over there?  She’s shoving through people like a running back.  I’m pretty sure that lady over there just winced in pain as she stamped on her sandled foot.  And her high-pitched caterwauling is interrupting that couple’s quiet conversation.  And…..yep, you’re back to texting as your hellions run wild.

It makes sense to me now, really it does.  How would your child possibly have learned manners with you as a parent?  You clearly never learned to use your inside voice either.  This line here, it’s here for a reason.  You don’t have some sort of super privilege that allows you direct access to the front.  But thanks for passing on that lack of situational awareness to your spawn as well.  He’s all set to piss off the next generation of manner equipped citizens.

Do not  touch.  Maybe he can’t read yet or maybe he thinks the rules don’t apply to him, but either way, your young-in damn near just pulled that exhibit down.  And while I wouldn’t mind watching him get a good scolding from a staff member,  I’m sure it somehow would have been the fault of the aquarium and not your angel.  After all, accountability is taught, and well, you clearly aren’t one for giving lessons.

If it were just you, I’d probably be ok with your lack of actual parenting.  But you’re not alone.  There are now dozens of distracted and entitled guardians roaming about these days.  You’re inflicting your shoddy parenting and basic life skills on us all.  I gotta be honest, I can’t stand your kid.  But after seeing his role model, I totally despise you.


Heading into this bar for a beer.


PS (for my readers)- Before I get the “you don’t have kids, you don’t understand” hate mail, let me say I write this as a former kid myself.  Yep, I’m completely qualified to make the statements above because I know an alternative exists. As a child, I knew how to act when I went out in public.  I knew how respect others.  I knew better.   Less Candy Crush and more parenting please.



An Open Letter to Broccoli

Yo Broc-daddy,

You’re so chuck full of nutrients it’s scary.  I can steam you in a flash, add a little salt and pepper, and smile as I bite into your delicious crowns.  But seriously, what’s with the smell?  Are you and tuna fish in a battle royale to see who can leave a lingering funk outside the microwave longest?  Did you grow jealous of popcorn’s ability to consign my kitchen to smelling like feet for a solid day?  Cool, thought so.  I do have one small request however, would it be too much to ask if you could just keep your funk contained inside of the Tupperware I tote for lunch?  I’m not so okay with the entire bus thinking I smell like vagabond breath.

Now off I go to heat you up in the office microwave, bwahahahah,





Yes, I did just post an open letter to broccoli.  Sure did.


Stay positive & love your life!




Listening to:  Them Crooked Vultures – No One Loves Me & Neither Do I

Eating:  Stinky-ass broccoli, carrots, and tofu scramble.

Random fact:  Tomorrow I will be making my debut on the pop culture & politics website, Leftypop.  You should all flock right over there, bookmark the page, stalk all of the other writers, and wait with bated breath for my article on the CVS cigarette sales cessation to post tomorrow at 9 am.  Go.  Now.

Oh Oh Oh You’re Magic: An Open Letter to Yoga Pants

Dear Yoga Pants,

As you well know, I have a drawer dedicated to housing you and all of your splendor.  Therefore, this letter is perhaps a bit superfluous;  but when you love something as much as I love you, it feels good to reaffirm your feelings from time to time.  You really are quite special to me you know. 

It seems like only yesterday that your butt shaping magic came into my life.  There you were, looking like an ordinary pair of black pants.  Little did I know that years later our love would multiply into many, many more pairs:  capri- length, a neon green waist band, shiny material, heavy material, a blue and white waist band, and so many other necessary variations.  I honestly never expected that I’d need you so much and in so great an assortment.

Others look at you and see a pant fit for exercise, but I know you for so much more.  Pajama pants?  Sure, you’re ever so comfy.  A trip to the grocery store?  Absolutely, everyone will look at me and know I’m one active, cool chick just in from some groovy meet-up where we discussed aligning our chakras and the benefits of juicing.  A wedding?  I say, maybe.  After all, when paired with a dressy tank and some heels, no one would be the wiser.  Cleaning the house?  Washing the car?  Whoa, let’s not get carried away.  Only if we’re talking about the faded pair from the Gap.  I won’t risk my Lululemons meeting with some harsh, damaging cleaning products. 

And speaking of Lulu, I’m even okay with the fact that you somehow improved upon your damn near perfect self and then charged me $100 for the new, improved you.  Way to step up your game.  I didn’t think your butt-lifting, leg slenderizing skills could get much better; I’ll admit I was wrong.

So keep being you.  I’m hooked.  You are a savior to girls everywhere who feel like throwing on a pair of sweats, but know there is a far superior choice. 


Hopelessly Devoted to Your Enchanted Fibers,



Yes, you really did just read an open letter to yoga pants.  And I meant every word of it (aside from wearing them to a wedding….maybe).  They really are a perfect piece of clothing.  I’m only a bit embarrassed about the number I own and my infatuation with those damn sorcerers out of Canada.  Luckily, last month I found a company called Ellie that offers some really cool choices for a lot less. I wanted to give them a test drive before I started raving about their wares.  Well folks, they passed inspection.

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**Here’s the part of the post where I’m torn about promoting a company.  It feels like a smidgen of a departure from this blog’s intent, but screw it; sharing is caring right?**

Fit is great, choices are fun, and the price can’t be beat.  Their monthly fashion club membership allows an outfit a month for under half the cost of one pair of pants from Lulu  And they stack up pretty well in comparison!   So if you’re hooked on the feeling only a pair of awesome yoga pants can provide, go check them out.  The banner below will save you 20% off your first order.  And I promise dear followers that this blog is not turning into a company mouth piece.  I really have to adore something to even consider promoting it.

Stay positive & love your life!



Listening to:  Royal Teeth – Waiting For You

Eating:  left over pasta

Drinking:  H2O

Reading:  “The Ballad of Helene Troy” by Lance Burson  Go check out his blog at:  My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog

Random fact:  I don’t remember the last time I wore yoga pants while practicing actual yoga.  Time to get back into it.  Running and lifting are hell on your flexibility.