Dear Clerk at Greenlife,
Thank you for asking me how my calculus test went… now, what are you talking about exactly?
Forget the fact that I didn’t even take calculus when I was in high school, did you seriously think I was a high schooler?
Ya know, now that I think about it, I was wearing a Hellboy backpack so maybe it isn’t that far outta the realm of possibility, but still…
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Internal Clock,
Exactly what kinda game are you running, sir?
I mean, seriously, can we at least talk about this?
I get it, ya gotta have a weekend schedule. Those 9 PM – 3 AM shifts would kick your ass otherwise.
But somehow, I get through those just fine, don’t I?
When you finally get off work and get back home, of course you’re gonna crash.
But still waking up at 8 AM, like you would any other day?
That’s just unacceptable. It’s called sleeping in. Those days you wake up at 8… well, it’s usually cuz you’re an old man and went to bed at 11 the night before, but you need your rest!
Or else, ya know what happens?
That’s right. You fall asleep on your date. Not like, during the date (although that happened too…) but literally on your date.
You’re lucky he just went with it… even if it was pretty mortifying.
So maybe next time just sleep a little later instead of sleeping on some poor unassuming guy, eh?
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Work,
Yeah, I don’t think I’m comin’ in today.
Think I mighta drank a little too much last night, so I’m feelin’ a little ache-y and just kinda tired all-around.
I mean, as bar owners, I’d imagine you understand the “drank too much” defense, yeah?
Okay, good. so yeah, I’ll see ya next week… or whenever I feel like it, sound good?
… yeah, I wish that was how it worked too.
See you at 9. Sharp.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Guy,
We’ve been hanging out a while and talking a lot and so far I’ve really enjoyed it.
Relax, this isn’t one of those “what are we?” talks. Please, I’d have a little more tact than to do that in a blog post… well, plus, that’s not really something I’d do at all.
No, this is more about your fun little nickname for me.
“Bud.” Buddy.” On far too many occasions, I’ve received the nondescript moniker.
I’m sure it comes from a good place, I’m not judging that.
It’s more the association I have with “bud.”
See, whenever my dad gets a call from one of his sons (there are three, mind you) he steers the conversation away from calling us by name. If backed into a corner, he’ll call one of us “bud” or “buddy” to hide the fact that he has no idea which son he is talking to.
It’s not that we all sound alike. We don’t. It’s that his memory is that bad.
So do you see why I’m not a fan of “bud”? Because I truly hope that is the only similarity that you and my father.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Netflix,
I know, it seems like I’ve been picking on you a lot lately, but, well, you’re a profitable company, how ’bout you get your shit together and then I won’t have any material?
The latest in a long line of complaints against you isn’t so much about your content. In fact, when I saw you had The Awakening streaming, i was pretty pleasantly surprised. It’s a solid film. Great atmosphere, solid acting, with a distinct hint of The Others‘ considerable charm. Really, top-notch choice. Let’s look at your description of the film, shall we?
“In post-World War I England, a boarding school haunted by a boy’s ghost calls on Florence Cathcart, who disproves hoaxes for a living. But Cathcart senses something truly strange about the school, leading her to question her belief in the rational.”
Now… seriously, what to do with that? Besides being an absolute abortion of the English language, it doesn’t really make any goddamn sense. How can a boarding school call on someone? It’s a quick fix too. “The headmaster of a boarding school…” All you need. Seriously, that’s it.
Next time just get someone with even a tenable grasp on the English language to write your descriptions for you, ya know?
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Fellow Grad Student,
Let’s talk about tact, shall we? Mainly because you seem so wildly unfamiliar with the term.
I mean, I am legitimately curious about what made you think this post was appropriate?
I’m sure your article is fascinating… if not a well-tread topic.
But to use the events in Boston as a means of self-promotion?
This coming from a man who slept with his ex three times after they broke up… that is still not nearly as bad as what you managed to do with social media.
Moving on to the next segment.
What possessed you to pair those two thoughts together? Was it that they were both celebrations of how great you are?
Cuz… um… the whole Boston thing followed by your e-book? It’s like a bad episode of Girls here.
That’s it. That’s what you are. You are gay dude Hannah Horvath.
It’s actually uncomfortable how spot on that description is… but here I go, congratulating myself.
I think you may be rubbing off on me. I’m gonna go try and find something selfless to do.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Girl Who Accidentally Spilled Her Beer,
You got on my good side quick.
You ordered your first round and politely smiled at me. I smiled back.
You ordered your second round, but not before bringing back your empties.
I made some lame joke about how you were doin’ my job for me and makin’ me look bad, which you promptly laughed at, even though it was admittedly not my best material.
You ordered your third round, but this one was a little more problematic… well, there’s no nice way of saying it.
You party fouled and dropped both beers in your hand.
No big deal, spills happen. It’s my job to clean ’em up.
However, you insisted I let you clean it. I politely declined, citing something like “Aw, that’s sweet, but I don’t want you get your pants wet, don’t worry about it.”
As I cleaned up, you apologized. Profusely. Ad nauseum, even.
All I could do is look up and smile, reassuring you that it was far from the worst thing I’ve had to clean up in a bar.
I wasn’t just lying to you to make you feel better. It really was on the tame side.
(Now, for those of you readers who recall having seen a picture of me, I have pretty long hair. Not, like, ass-length ponytail long hair, but enough to cover my eyes when I look down.)
So when I looked up to speak to you, I had hair in my eyes and a beer-soaked rag in my hands. Naturally, I flipped my hair, to get it outta my face.
Honestly, I do it so damn much, I don’t even think about it anymore.
All you could say was, “Wow, you have really pretty hair…” I’m, believe it or not, a naturally shy guy and an even bigger blusher. So, of course, I blushed at the compliment, at which point you called me “adorable” and told me you “loved my smirk.”
Now, I don’t know what that last bit means, cuz I’ve never thought of myself as a smirker, but it was sweet of you to say, nonetheless.
In fact, as far as I’m concerned, next time you’re in there? Spill as many beers as ya like.
Cuz, for some reason, whenever I clean ’em up, I get showered with compliments.
Hey, I’ll take it.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Mama,
I know we said brunch, but your adoring son has a helluva hangover.
Can we just do a drive-by passive-aggressive exchange?
It’ll be cheaper for you, plus then I can get back to vomiting.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Achilles Tendon,
You got me good, huh? Just when I thought I was back on track for running, then you pull these shenanigans?
Knee problems? I can handle. I’ve been awful to my knees. I mean, 16 miles the day after getting hit by a car?
There’s bound to be some complications. I even accepted the hideous scar and moved on.
But you, Achilles Tendon. After I was so good to you? massaged you? Stretched you? Took care of you?
Well, this is a betrayal I simply cannot abide. As far as you and I are concerned, we are done.
… but not really, I still kinda need you to walk.
Look, how about I give you some time off and we can revisit the subject?
For the meantime, I’ll let you rest and hope that you haven’t screwed me over for life.
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Dear Netflix,
Courage the Cowardly Dog? Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends? It’s like you don’t want me to get work done.
Is that it?
Is this all some grand conspiracy to make sure I never get any of my work done?
And before you accuse me of being paranoid, I prefer self-involved…
Besides, this new “share on Facebook” feature is… well, questionable when those are the shows I’m watching.
Maybe I’ll turn on episodes of Hoarders when I go for my run… several hours of Hoarders is better than kid’s cartoons, right?
Sincerely,
Calhoun
Random Letters to the World 