Archive for January, 2011


dear rene & brodie,

From the bottom of my heart, allow me to thank both of you for giving all teenage boys (well, maybe not all) a complex about the size of our, hmm family friendly, man parts.  When I first watched this movie, I was but an early teenager and let’s just say I only had first-hand knowledge of my endowment.  In addition, I tended to focus my stare downwards (still do) in lockers rooms and gyms and so forth, so I had very little (no pun intended) to compare myself too.  Then I watch the following scene,

and from that moment forth, I was scared to death about what future females would think of my ‘stuff.’ How was I to believe anything any females would say about it? I was smart enough to realize very few would be so mean as to say something along the lines of, “wow, that is really small…good luck with that thing.”  But now I started thinking no matter what a girl who saw it would always embellish by at least one size: average=tiny, decent=small, big=decent, huge=well, this one doesn’t really matter.

Now, in my ripe old age, I have become more than content with everything down there, but I think subconsciously in the back of my mind I still get nervous about someone new exploring, and chuckling at it (which, has yet to happen thank whichever lord you pray to).  Maybe deep down this is the reason I have intimacy issues, because I don’t want anyone laughing at me.  What’s the definition of insanity – something about repeating the same thing over and over expecting different results, right?  So if enough females have been privy to this kind of visual information, and not laughed, why do I keep expecting that to happen?

Eff you Kevin Smith.

PS – I actually don’t really care, at all…I mean as long as I get off, right? (calm down ladies, my Jewish guilt would preclude me from ever actually performing in this manner).


“Don’t say it! Don’t you fu**ing say ‘you’re too good for me.’ I am, but don’t say it.” *

Dear Kara,

I do apologize for confessing my love for you in that bar about 6 years ago.  Wow 6 years has made me melodramatic…I definitely didn’t use that four letter bomb, but I still said something along the lines of, “I like you…more than a friend…make out with me.” Probably not the last part, but I’m sure this is enough of a reminder for you.

Anyway, I apologize for a multitude of reasons.  At first I thought it was because I risked five or so years of a great friendship for something that in the back of my mind, I knew wasn’t going to be there.  You were/still are far too concerned about appearances to date someone like me (I don’t come off as a WASP, my bad).  It took me a year or so to realize that I wasn’t sorry because I risked the friendship, I was sorry because my feelings for you simply weren’t true.  This reason is actually all on me, as opposed to the previous (and forthcoming) reason that make you kind of seem like a callous bitch.  I had just moved to a new town, where most of my friends lived about 30 minutes away, and you and I basically did something together, alone, like three nights a week.  That, and the fact that I always had a minor crush on you, led directly to my misplaced feelings.  Sorry for putting that on you.

I’m also sorry because I can’t believe I told someone who has the potential to be such an awful person that I liked her, as proved by the fact that within one month of me divulging that info you hooked up with not one, but two of my close friends.  None of them talked about you in negative ways behind your back…promise.

Let me ask you something, was doing that somehow a way to really drive your point home?  You didn’t need to touch two of my friends schlongs to do that you know.  You, and you deserve credit for this, were extremely effective and quite nice even, in the way you told me that you, “just didn’t think of me that way.”  It actually seemed as if our friendship would be just fine.  But then, you know…you went and kind of slutted around for a bit.  And now whenever we run into each other, it is awkward…because I know that you know that I know what you did, and at the time it really hurt me, and now I just feel sorry for you.

So I guess this is a cautionary tale, just because a hot girl is hanging out with you consistently, doesn’t mean you should A. fall in love with her or B. that she is worth falling in love with in the first place.





I wish I knew how to quit you.

Dear Professional Sports,

I write to you today from inside my home on this beautiful day because I am too weary to do anything outside (well, it is als0 -3 out, and I need to break myself in after spending a week in 80 degree sun).  I am physically weary because not only did I have to stomach watching my beloved Patriots lose to the Jets last night, I had to do it in Newark International Airport.  Drowning my sorrows at the bar was not an option, since they were all filled with Jets fans; so instead I just roamed Terminal C like I had roamed Seven Mile Beach in Grand Cayman the entire preceeding week.  Unfortunately, the eye candy in Hudson Books and so forth was not quite up to par.  So, I just walked, and walked, with my hood up and my headphones on trying to avoid crying, punching the walls, or both…I managed to avoid tears, but I do have one or two bruised knuckles.

I am mentally weary because for the entire second half of last week, I thought of pretty much nothing but the Patriots Jets game.  And yes, I realize that is only one of MANY reasons I don’t currently have a girlfriend.  Then, to have them completely outclassed and end their season prematurely effing kills me, especially to the Jets.  My point is, what is the point to caring so much?  Thinking of the pain you have caused me recently – Bruins choking a 3-0 playoff lead AND 3-0 game 7 lead to Philly, Celtics up by 13 in game 7 against the Lakers and losing, Red Sox not even making the playoffs in 2010, and now last night…

Why do I care so much about you effing athletes, who don’t really give a crap about me.  Something tells me Tom Brady, David Ortiz or Rajon Rondo weren’t too happy for me when I finished my graduate program last month.  Most athletes on Boston sports teams are not actually from Boston, they are merely hired mercenaries.  I want to break up with you so badly, but like the quote says, I can’t quit you…I just don’t know why…but then I watch clips like this one -

and this one -

And all is right with the world.

Forever yours,

Tom David Rondo

*Brokeback Mountain


dear elvis,

I know you are the man, or, and I hope this doesn’t sound harsh, you were the man…but so is Eddie Vedder and hence I’ve decided to include Pearl Jam’s cover in this quick letter to you.  But I’m addressing this to you because you penned the lyrics that are so simple, and oh so effective. It’s the lesson we all learn from the time we start becoming romantically interested (in my case) members of the opposite sex – don’t rush to fall in love with a chick, she’ll probably just break your heart.  Yes, even in the 3rd grade (I’m thinking of you, Jennifer B!).  But most of us aren’t wired that way, are we? We see what we want to see – a bright future with a nice house and kids (or in the 3rd grade, crushing the swingset together) We feel how we feel, and we fall in love all too easily.  Anotherwords, we ‘can’t help’ it, falling in love that is…you see what I did there?  I’m so effing clever sometimes it hurts.

Anyway, that’s what your song means, in a few brief words, to me.  Now I need to go continue to sunburn myself, so it will turn into a tan by the time I get back to snowy New England and chicks will be all to quick to fall in love with me!

Sunburnt in Cayman,

Val (personally I think he played you best in ‘True Romance’)

Letters sent…

January 2011
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