Dear Spain, I like you. I truly do. You’re like Italy, but less mafioso-y. I begrudgingly appreciate how entire cities will shut down so that people can take naps. It’s absolute bullshit, and really annoying for tourists, but y’all are like, “FUCK IT! It’s 1pm. Let’s eat paella for 3 hours.” It’s hard not to…
Dear Games of Thrones Obsessed Friend, You know I love you, right? And that I always have? Well, maybe not always. To be honest, when we first met, I sort of found you annoying. But over time, you’ve become someone who I’ve grown to love and tolerate. Someone with whom I can be honest.…
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post addressed to Nestlé about Raisinets. I never directly contacted the company about their crimes against candy. I simply blogged about it, screaming into the ether of the internet like any good lunatic would do. I did not expect Nestlé to actually see my letter. I certainly did not…
Dear Nestlé Corporation, I am writing to you on behalf of my husband, Rand, even though he has disavowed any knowledge of this letter, and refuses to be held accountable for ‘the shit that I do when I am bored.’ But I am certain that he would agree with everything I am about to say. Rand is…
– Dear Vacation Palm Springs, Hi guys! I wanted to send you a letter just between us, you know? But since you aren’t answering any of our emails, and it’s pretty obvious you aren’t going to reimburse us for the money we sent you, I figured I’d just drag all our dirty laundry into the…
– Dear Alaska Airlines, Hi! It’s me, Geraldine. You might remember me from such notable trips as AA Flight #476, Seattle to L.A. (the one that was so bumpy, NO SNACKS WERE HANDED OUT, which turned out to be not that big a deal because I spent the evening throwing up, anyway) or last month’s…
To the little blond kid on Alaska Air Flight #232, It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I see this as largely your fault, of course. When you saw me quietly sleeping in my chair, you – for reasons that defy logic (Was it curiosity? Thoughtlessness? Demonic possession? I’m leaning towards the latter)…
Last night I penned this: –
Okay, fine. I’m being a little melodramatic. But still. When it rains poop … um … make poop-ade? I suck at maxims, too, it seems. The point is, things are going less than optimally well in the Everywhereist-Fishkin household. Let’s recap: Air France is operated by primates. And not even smart primates, like the ones…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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