Mailbag

Dear Clarity,

Go away. Seriously — I was much happier in my illusions. I miss having little daydreams bringing a smile to my face. I can’t tell you the last time I smiled and actually meant it.

FOAD.

Love,
Dawn

Tread carefully. I’m fra-geee-lay today.

On iTunes: Rob Thomas, “When the Heartache Ends (acoustic)”

Comments closed.

Mailbag

Dear (insert name of doctor),

I picked you specifically because you offer Saturday hours. Because, as I learned the hard way, the one day you want traffic to flow when you’re on your way to an appointment is the day it DOESN’T. That’s OK. It wasn’t serious, anyway, what I was worried about. I’ll wait and see.

Seriously, you say you take patients on weekends, but you refuse to do the first-patient visit on anything other than a weekday? You suck.

Kisses,
Dawn

On iTunes: Van Morrison, “Moondance”

2 Responses to Mailbag

  1. Anonymous :

    I feel you, but there is usually a reason for this. Doctors generally feel the need to do a lenghty history on a 1st time patient. Since any doc that does offer Saturday hours usually limits them, it makes little sense time-wise and fiscally to schedule a new patient on a Saturday.

    Just a thought. πŸ™‚

    ~Lachlan

  2. apollonaire :

    You know…I fuckin’ hate that shit.
    This one dr. my insurance company assigned me was ass like that.
    Her rude receptionist informed me that I would have to wait 2-3 weeks for an appt. and then would only get to see a nurse practitioner. WELL FUCK ME RUNNING.
    I called up blue cross blue shield and told them this was bs and could I get a discount for seeing a non-md on my copay.
    That went over like a fart in a spacesuit.
    Good thing I didn’t wait….I wound up having a 2 ft long blood clot in my leg. Could have turned into dvt….who knows.
    Hate that shit with dr’s offices….

Mailbag

Y’all might know that my hypothesis on Lexus vehicles is that they don’t come standard with turn signals. My other hypothesis is that people become braindead when they purchase said vehicle, because I have yet to witness the phenomenon of a Lexus owner driving safely.

To that, our beloved Amy gave me the key to unlock the hell on wheels: It’s a violation of privacy!

Dear Goddess,

I do believe the Lexus vehicle has a certain appeal with Southern folk. Now, you’ve lived here amongst us Southern folk for awhile, so you are no doubt are aware of Southern eccentricities. You see, in the South, we don’t hide our crazy people — we put them out on display. And that is for a very pertinent reason: We want the REALLY crazy people to stand out because it sort of makes up for how batshit the rest of us are.

Now, in the greater D.C. area, there are enough transplants from other parts of the country to sort of dilute the “Southerness” of this region. But, for those of us who have lived in more potent parts of the South, the whole turn signal thing doesn’t come as a surprise. You see, Southerners tend not to use their turn signals because, “It’s none of your damn business where I’m a-goin’.”

Love,
The (Southern) Snarling Marmot

I will have a whole new attitude toward my commute after this. Thanks, Amy! πŸ™‚

On iTunes: Jodi Sheeler, “Boston”

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Mailbag

Dear Self:

Why are you freezing up? You are more than capable of this and a thousand times more. You get so scared when you’re put on the spot, and you know better than everyone that you practically have to be cattle-prodded to take an opportunity to shine. But, when you want to shine, you do. And, sometimes you shine even when that wasn’t your goal in the first place. You got this far … you simply can’t stop here. I know, your internal resources are close to running dry, but think for a second. Those resources regenerate when you’re using them. When you stop producing, stop thinking, stop dreaming and stop running, that is when the “use it or lose it” cliche comes true. A body in motion stays in motion, to overhype the cliche use this morning. πŸ™‚ You’re finally in motion — any move you make is at least an adventure in some direction. So hop to it.

Love,
Dawn

Oh, and P.S.: That skirt you’re wearing today? So sassy and cute. I know, you wish it were denim and that pantyhose would be banned for all eternity, but you’ve sucked it up quite nicely and are personalizing your “older you” style pretty well. Rock on, lady!

On iTunes: Lindsay Lohan, “To Know Your Name”

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Mailbag

Dear Cell Phone Company:

I pay you lots of money. Money I don’t have. Money that should go toward feeding the cats or maybe even me one of these days. So when I call your tech support, please humor me and be helpful.

First, I sit through menu after menu. But you do not give me numbered options so that I can identify my problem. Oh, no. Your FemBot asks me insipid questions. I try to speak clearly, but the longer I am lost in the system, the more irritated my voice becomes. She then gives me an option of two items from which to choose. Neither is my problem — I do not have a problem placing a call or accessing the Internet because, as I tried to tell you earlier, THE PHONE WENT DEAD. I am just fortunate to have another phone so that I can call you to tell you that!

Oh, but it gets better. After I demand from your automaton to speak with a live representative, you give me one that is less helpful than the computer voice. Not only are we not understanding each other, but he transfers me to the collections department. I know, I’m not good about paying on time these days (hence the shut-off last month. Thanks and Merry Christmas to you, too!). But my billing cycle only ended on Friday — the girl in the collections department was as counfounded as I was about the transfer. So she transferred me back to Moron Boy, and perhaps it was a blessing that the call got dropped. Because any call I make gets dropped. Hooray.

Anyway, I fixed the phone myself, thanks for asking. As I sat arguing with FemBot, I broke open the phone, removed its innards and put it back together, and voila! The phone finally turned on again.

Thank you for wasting a half hour of my life. Remind me why I’m supposed to pay you again?

Love, Dawn

On iTunes: Coolio, “Gangsta’s Paradise”

One Lonely Response to Mailbag

  1. Anonymous :

    heh heh…good thing you have 2 cells….dawnie!

Mailbag

Dear Santa:

It’s been years since I’ve written, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need a little holiday magic to get me through the season. I need a lot of magic, actually. Even naughty girls need love, too!


Love, Dawn

On iTunes: Bon Jovi, “I Believe”

3 Responses to Mailbag

  1. Anonymous :

    Wishing lots of magic and happiness to find it’s way to you this holiday season. πŸ™‚ groovebunny

  2. Anonymous :

    And quite frequently, naughty girls need love AND ointment. πŸ™‚
    Wishing you all you want and need in the coming year.
    LeeAnn
    The Cheese Stands Alone

  3. Anonymous :

    Oh, LeeAnn, I love you!

    Reminds me of when I told Ted I’m bursting with fruit flavor and he accused me of dipping into the “inventory.” … LOL

Mailbag

Dear WJLA-TV:

My pleasures in life are so few, yet you aren’t showing “Desperate Housewives” tonight, instead boring me to tears with a Redskins game. *growl* Why are you tormenting me?!?!

Love, Dawn

On iTunes: Gwen Stefani, “Hollaback Girl”

3 Responses to Mailbag

  1. Anonymous :

    Ummmm … yay football!

    β€”Kenn

  2. Dawn :

    I don’t love the ‘Skins. The Steelers, however, I could have lived with! πŸ˜‰

  3. Anonymous :

    They showed it at midnight, the bastards. Also, they always rerun the eps on Saturday night, so you can catch it then if you missed the midnight show.

Mailbag

Dear Universe:

I understand that every day, every minute is some kind of test. And while I don’t know the reasons behind everything, I know you’ve got a Grand Plan for me. Forgive me if I seem sarcastic and ungrateful right now — I just feel like some of these hoops that I’m jumping through might not be that altogether necessary. I know that when all is said and done, I’m going to have a whopper of a story to share. But it’s hard finding the energy every day to jump when everyone says to but then to be suspended in midair until they get around to closing the gap, if at all. Time is running out, and so is my sense of humor. I’m really trying to let you guide me, being that my own efforts haven’t worked so far. Please just lead me down the right road and let me make good choices if in fact it comes to having more options than I’d imagined.

Thank you for those who have reached out their hands and helped me toddle along when my legs have been weak. You can bet your life that I will do the same when it’s my turn to do so. I just really want for that turn to come so I can get started on changing the world — it’s been ambling along without me for too long!

Love, Dawn

On iTunes: Taste of Honey, “Boogie Oogie Oogie”

Comments closed.

Mailbag

Dear Money:

Our adversarial relationship continues. I’ve never seen much of you and, frankly, when you did pop by for a visit, it was never an extended stay. But I could always count on seeing *just enough* of you to get by, and sometimes, you stayed a wee bit longer than you intended so that we could have a few extra laughs.

But lately, you’re on strike. Where did you go? When are you planning to come around again? Do you know that I’ve been hunting you down everywhere and can’t find a trace of you? I may not be here when you get back — how will you know where to find me? Again, I’m not asking you to move in with me — you know how commitment-phobic I am. But I do promise to cherish you more and not let your presence go unnoticed. I will focus more on quality and not quantity. I will promise to ensure that I am happy to simply have shelter rather than concerning myself with how many items are beautifying said shelter. Most of that stuff is for sale, now, anyway, in aspiration of keeping said roof intact.

(Aside to John: my apologies, as you have heard the rest of this before.)

Money, your disappearance has been sobering, and that means any decisions I make are not to be taken lightly because the repercussions to the wrong decisions are that much harder to undo. But my optimism that the sun will someday shine again can’t be killed off completely. It’s hard to sit here in my disquieted state and even entertain the thought that someday, I will experience more than two or three consecutive happy moments. But no matter how much you are boycotting arriving in my bank account, Money, I need you to know that this seed of hope of seeing you again has to reign, or else I will wither. And I have more important things to accomplish in this life than paying the rent, although that would be nice right now, too.

I liken my death grip on hope to the fact that I don’t necessarily have a green thumb, but I can’t kill my plants for anything. I haven’t watered them in over a month, and the happy green leaves still greet me every day, imploring, “Maybe today will be the day you give us nourishment?” And I neglect them, waiting for when I feel like it. Maybe that’s what you’re doing to me right now. Maybe it knows we’re fading but doesn’t throw us a cracker until we’re about to pass out. But maybe that only means that one day, I and everyone else like me will have the whole dinner to nourish us, turkey and trimmings and all. And maybe we’ll savor every bite, every moment, every crumb, because we will never forget the bitter taste of having nothing at all.

In the meantime, I am going to go water my plants, because I like seeing them green and because that means I will recognize you when I see you again. Don’t be a stranger, mmm kay?

On iTunes: Milk Inc., “The Sun Always Shines on TV”

One Lonely Response to Mailbag

  1. Anonymous :

    **hugs**

    ~Lachlan

Mailbag

Dear Cigarettes:

I miss you. It’s been more than two months, and not a day passes that I don’t dream of a reunion. I can’t even walk into 7-11 anymore because, well, I’m poor, but also because I was so accustomed to asking for a pack of Camel Lights once a day or at least every other day. You went so well with my vanilla nut coffee with the really crappy, leaky lid that always managed to pop off whenever I busted a 180 degree turn at 55 mph when I left the parking lot.

Anyway, my beloved Camel Lights, life has been tough. Normally when people are as out of sorts as I’ve been, they smoke even more. Not me. I’ve spent almost $80 a month on you for the past 10 years — think how that could have helped me now! Someone said to me recently how cigarettes are like our best friends. I think this is a fair assessment — when everybody was around, we were together. When
everyone went away, you were there. In good times and bad, you were the most reliable thing in my life. And to not have you has been something that haunts me every day. What I wouldn’t give for the old familiar comfort, no matter how ephemeral it was. You’re just lucky I only have seven cents to my name, or my ass would be at 7-11 right now!

Love,
Dawn

On iTunes: Jethro Tull, “Velvet Green”

5 Responses to Mailbag

  1. Anonymous :

    I feel you on this one. I quit 11 months ago, and rarely does a day go by that I don’t think “Man, I could really go for a smoke right now!” It’s gotten easier over all, but sometimes the urge is so over powering it’s scary. Hang in there!

    amy t.

  2. Anonymous :

    Craziest thing … I have done it all, I’ve been all over the place, seen everything … I’ve got multiple tattoos and am not really phased by anything people consider extreme or kinky or eclectic …

    … but damn if I don’t HATE cigarettes! Seriously. I don’t know why, but I do. I just can’t stand them at all. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty.

    So … ummm … you’re a much classier chick without them!

    (you like how I use the term chick in there with classy in hopes that you won’t realize I just called you a chick? yeah, I’m smooth like that)

  3. BillSaysThis :

    10 years * $1,000/year, with prices going up constantly now as well.

  4. Anonymous :

    Will be three years in January since I quit. It was difficult the first year. Since then it has been fairly easy. The benefits become untold! You will see.

    ms7168

  5. Dawn :

    I’m insanely proud of all of you! I meant it when I said it’s like losing a friend when you give it up — it takes a lot of strength to know when your “friend” is bad news and it’s time to show that habit the door!

Mailbag

Dear Karma:

You and I have been at odds — you’ve brought me down, kicked me while I was down and dangled turds disguised as carrots before me on nooses disguised as strings. I thought, surely you can’t be serious about all of this.

But then, last night, you handed me an oxygen mask. And for that, I am thankful. If you can spare a saline drip, too, that would be most appreciated. But in any event, thank you for taking your foot off of my jugular for the time being. It feels good to open the curtains and to exhale again.

When things calm down, though, you have some serious explaining to do.

Love,
Dawn

On iTunes: Bon Jovi, “Something to Believe In”

3 Responses to Mailbag

  1. Anonymous :

    whatever happened, hooray!

    Isabel

  2. A.McSholty :

    You sound like you need a drink as bad as I do.

  3. Anonymous :

    I have a freezer full of vodka. Not a goddamned thing to eat, but lotsa liquor.

    Bottoms up!!! πŸ˜‰