Unsent Letters by Heather Mark

Dear OJ Simpson,

I hate you so, so, so, so, so much. I hate that you’ve been looking for so long but haven’t found Nicole’s killer yet. I hate that you’re a bully. I hate that your kids have to deal with you without their mother. I hate that you continue to make money even though you’re behind bars.

What’s that? You’re still making money? Yeah, your ridiculous “Juiced” collectors edition DVD hits store shelves today and it sounds like some real classic style filmmaking. Let’s see, in part of the video you portray a used car salesman trying to sell a white Bronco perforated with bullet holes. All the while promoting its “escapability” feature.

You are such a filthy man. I can’t believe an anvil hasn’t fallen out of a tenth floor window and crushed you in the name of karma.

Still creeped out after all these years,

Heather Mark

Dear Looky-Loos,

Shame on you! A terrible tragedy has befallen our neighborhood and you have turned one family’s tragedy into your own fifteen minutes of fame. The people who ride by on their bikes or nonchalantly walk their dogs while all the TV trucks are out are despicable, but the absolute worst of you are the church groups.

Six months ago a little girl from my neighborhood went missing. Her name is Caylee Marie Anthony. Today they found what is probably her bones. We should all pray for her innocent soul and the loved ones she left behind.

Prayer for a family in need is not the same thing as marketing your congregation on their lawn in hopes that the media “accidentally” captures your image on the news. For you freaks who continually drive your church vans down the street in the name of Jesus and a little girl’s life cut short, GET LOST!

If you’re legit, you’ll call your members to meet at your house of worship and you’ll pray together. You will pray for the Anthonys to stay strong. You will pray for justice for little Caylee. You will hold your babies closer, tell your family you love them, give of yourself to your communities. That does not include driving the church van past a fragile family’s home, to wave as you pass the TV cameras, all in the name of righteousness… and above all Jesus.

Jesus would be ashamed of you, making a circus out of a family tragedy. You’d best get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness.

Heather

Dear [Name Redacted],

Who the hell do you think you are? Your job posting on Problogger.net throws mud in the face of every self respecting freelance writer on the face of planet Earth. I thought I was pretty well suited to your job listing and I was eager to apply until I came to this line:

My name is [Name Redacted]. Find my email and email me.

We are writing professionals, [Name Redacted]. Do you really think we have time to scuttle all over the internet to find your stupid e mail address? Is it really such a privilege to write for the illustrious [Name Redacted] that you’ll pay us a whopping $20 per post? You pissed me off enough not to want to look for your e mail address but to find out who you think you are. A quick Google search for “[Name Redacted]” told me all I needed to know–you’re a stuck up, barely 21 year old wannabe internet sensation. You think you’re the bee’s knees because you’re big on StumbleUpon.

Reality check, [Name Redacted], no self respecting freelancer is going to “find your e mail”. We have better paying, more reputable publications to write for than your dumbass website that doesn’t even exist yet. Good luck finding your perfect candidates.

Truly enraged,

Heather Mark

Dear Guy Sitting in 21F,

I understand this airline has an open seating policy. In fact, I’ve worked for this airline since 2002 so I’m quite familiar with most of its policies. The thing about open seating is it’s full of surprises. You never know whom, if anyone, you’ll be sitting next to.

When I boarded, I was the very last person on. I was carring a car seat (with a baby in it), a car seat base, a diaper bag and one other carry on. I quickly settled in right behind you in row 22, which was the only open row on the plane. I installed my car seat in 22F and I sat in 22E.

I found it quite presumptuous of you to ask me to move my car seat to the aisle seat because it inconvenienced your reclinability. Normally I would feel bad for you because you couldn’t recline, but seeing as I was the last one to board and the front door of the aircraft was already closed I had no time to move the car seat. Not to mention it’s illegal to place a car seat in the aisle seat. When I pointed out the two empty seats next to you, both of which had a full spectrum of reclinability, you gave me attitude.

Perhaps if you’d offered me a hand in getting settled or just been courteous to me, I’d be more inclined to rearrange myself so you could recline 21F. But you were a jerk and no amount of trying to force your seat back repeatedly only to be blocked by my car seat was going to get me to move over. You’re a grown man, sir, an not much of a gentleman. A gentleman would have realized how preoccupied I was traveling alone with a newborn and all his gear and quietly sat in an adjacent empty seat.

I suppose, Mr. 21F, what I want is for you to learn some manners. But seeing as you made it 40something years without absorbing those lessons I understand you won’t be changing your ways. Good luck in the future, sir. Your method hasn’t worked so far, I encourage you to continue behaving badly for another 40 years. See where it takes you.

Whatever,

Heather