Dear Business Card Guy,
I was flirting, you dumbass.
I was flirting and you leave me with a business card?
If this was Working Girl I’d be impressed, but this is 2013 and I’m a dude.
It’s called a cell phone number.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Drunk Girl,
Look, miss, I’ll put up with a lot.
I mean, entirely too much, really.
Like, when you started slumping over and using my shoulder as a glorified head rest and drool receptacle?
Wasn’t happy, but I let it happen.
When it came time to split the fare?
I said, “don’t worry about it, I got this one. Just get some rest.”
Or how about when you forgot your phone at the bar and I, a complete stranger to you, had to get the driver to turn the cab around and I had to run inside to grab your phone for you?
Not a highlight of mine, but happy to do it.
Still, when we got to your place to drop you off and the guy I was with got out of the front seat so he could sit in back with me… well, do you remember what happened there?
Yeah, ya grabbed his ass.
I’m fine with a lot, especially when it comes to drunk folks, but that is not your ass to grab.
That is my ass to grab, got it? Got it?!?
SO you best check yourself, before you- well, you know the rest.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Passersby,
You hafta understand something.
When we know each other, and you see me out on my run? Honking will do you no good.
I listen to music. Loudly. I can’t hear your car horn, nor would it really help the situation.
The situation, of course, being you recognizing me.
I’m thrilled that you recognize me. Truly, I do.
Sadly, I can’t say the same. I mean, I’m sure I would, but when you’re driving in a car, you’ve got a distinct advantage.
You have several seconds to see me, whereas, well, more often than not, I just see a car passing.
I rarely look at drivers cuz, when we’re headed in opposite directions, I can probably only see the driver for a split second.
So, please, don’t be offended when I don’t wave or respond in any way.
Chances are, even if I did hear you, I couldn’t really see who or what I was supposed to be waving to, okay?
It’s nothing personal.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Weather,
It’s May. Or as we like to call it in North Carolina, the start of summer.
Why, then, can I see steam rise from the ground when my dog pees in the morning?
Why does it look like I’m smuggling BBs under my undershirt when I go outside?
For God’s sake, Weather, get your act together!
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Karl,
I know you can’t talk, but- well, there’s gotta be a better system of communication.
When I ask, “you wanna go out? Gotta go to the bathroom?” although an alarmingly accurate response, farting in my face isn’t really appreciated.
Like, ever.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Metro Chinese,
We hafta stop meeting like this.
“Like this,” of course, referring to me in my boxer briefs and insanely hungover.
Like, seriously.
It’s starting to be a problem. I swear I have clothes. I just don’t like ‘em.
You can understand that, right? I mean, all of your delivery folks look they don’t like you, so I’m sure you can relate.
Anyways, seriously, I’ll start wearing pants… yeah, I didn’t believe that either.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Kevin Bacon,
You ever get tired of Kyra and want something different, you just gimme a call, deal?
Sincerely,
Calhoun
