Posts Tagged ‘seinfeld


“after seeing you for a couple of times, you sorta got stuck in my head, Costanza” *

Dear Jillian,

I just sent you a real email wishing you a happy birthday, and of course asking you to put in a good word for me at your place of employment. But I felt kind of bad that it’s been almost a decade, so I figured it was high time I send you one of these letters as well.

We met at camp, when I was 17 or so and had absolutely no clue had to read signs from females. That sentence implies that I do now…but rest assured I’m still sort of an assclown when it comes to that. We got close, but you made it painfully clear you weren’t interested in making out or anything along those lines by hooking up most of the summer with a red-head. Way to pour salt in the wound (just kidding, I have nothing against gingers…they do have souls). But then, on one of the last nights out I found myself alone with you, both inebriated, and you gave me the most backhanded compliment of all time.

You pretty much told me that you always liked me as a friend, but weren’t attracted to me…but the more you got to know me, the more attractive I became because as everyone knows, my personality sparkles. What I should’ve done was kiss you right then and there, instead of focusing on the beginning of your explanation, where I (still) think you called me ugly. In my mind, you basically compared me to George Costanza in this classic scene (effing youtube rules…can’t embed it, but go to the 51 second mark and you’ll catch my drift).

Thanks for comparing me to a short, stalky bald man.

It’s not as if I outwardly got angry at you for calling me unattractive, I was just kind of dumbfounded. What precisely, did you want me to do with this new information? Mind you, your ginger-boy was like 30 feet away, and even though it was just a ‘summer camp relationship,’ the two of you were still together, as much as you can be. So, instead of just going for some tongue action, I stalled and stammered out,

“I kind of want to kiss you right now…” To which you responded (with a small twinkle in your eye I might add), “You don’t need to ask my permission.”

At which point, of course, Ginger walked up to us. If “Old School” had already been made, I’m sure I would’ve said, “Good talk…see you out there.” But it hadn’t, and since I rarely speak in anything but movie quotes, I just stumbled away awkwardly and left you to explain.

So, in short…I regret not kissing you, but I can’t imagine the makeout session would’ve been worth pissing off a red-head.



* Seinfeld


dear kramer & mr. costanza

I realize you are both extremely busy this time of year – Kramer whipping up bagels at H&H, and Frank I’m sure you and Lloyd Braun are still slinging computers left and right, but I’d like to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the creation and commercializing of Festivus. It is, without a doubt, the best part of being an adult who does not celebrate Christmas.  Sure, I might only be 5’9, 150 pounds and can barely bend a wet noodle, but I have always stepped it up when it comes to the ‘feats of strength’.  And the ‘airing of grievances,’ I mean, wow, just effing wow! Can’t you tell from this blog alone that there is nothing in this life I appreciate more than telling other people, specfically ex girlfriends, how much they annoy me.  I was going to put up a Festivus Pole this year, but decided it looked too much like a stripper pole and I didn’t want to have to explain that to any potential females that might stop by.  Wait, I’ll be back in twenty minutes…

Ok I realized after writing that last sentence that there are no females coming over and thus I have put up my Festivus Pole.  Now all I need is to find some female to make out with tonight and my 2010 Festivus will be complete with a true FESTIVUS MIRACLE!




It was unprecedented. I mean, it was the first truly mutual breakup in relationship history.*

Dear Kelly,

Does the title of this letter not say it all?  I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being part of history, we must have had the easiest breakup of all-time, or at the very least top 5.  It’s only fitting that I’m writing to you now, as it was just before Thanksgiving a year ago when we ended things.  Before I get to the night of our breakup, lets rehash our courtship (awesome word) and few months of dating first.

If they can do can we (photo courtesy of NBC)

You facebooked me, that was all it took.  I don’t think more than 10 words had ever passed between us and so your friend request was somewhat random in my book.  I figured, ‘eff it…here is a girl who is cute, single, in the area, successful, into lots of the same things, ask her out.’  So I did what any guy in his mid 20′s would do (and for the record, early 20′s = 20-23, mid 20′s = 24-28, late 20′s = 29), I asked if you were interested in grabbing dinner sometime….via facebook message.  You said yes.  I love how we didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers yet but we had still agreed to dinner.  Well we went out, met up with some mutual friends for some adult beverages after, and low and behold I was a bit too drunk to drive.  You were kind enough to let me crash at your place, we made out awhile (it had been a LOONG time since I made out), and we went to sleep.

Things progressed pretty naturally from there, some more dinners, some long phone conversations (some from foreign countries), romantic comedies, sleepovers with more than making out, etc etc etc.  And guess what? It was all very nice.  Unfortunately, that is about the nicest word I can use to describe those few months, nice.  Not only that, I’m 99% sure that is the best thing you can come up with as well.  Here is what I think: it had been a little while since either of us had someone consistent to spoon at night, and since I know I don’t do much of the casual hookup thing, it had been actually quite a long while for myself.  I think we both found some comfort in each other, we got along well enough, and it’s always nice to spend some easy-going time with someone you can make out with as well.  But I knew a couple weeks into it that we weren’t going to go too far.  And so did you.

Hence, when I came over the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and proclaimed, “I think we should talk,” you answered immediately, “I know.”  I gave some absurd, too long speech, about how I thought we were both great people, but not great for each other, and the bottom line is that we were settling because it was relatively easy to hang out, and like I said, making out is sweet.  Holy crap, talk about a run on sentence…yet I digress.  Anyway, you agreed, we hugged, I played with your dogs’ floppy ears one last time, and that was the end of it.

Here is the thing though…I kind of regret how I handled us.  Not the breakup, because by then it was needed…but how I more or less gave up on us two weeks in.  I often think one of my greatest strengths is my people judging skills, and I’m still 99% sure my reaction was correct – you are most definitely a catch, just not my catch.  But I can’t help but think about that 1%, and wonder if I need to let things marinate a bit longer before making important judgements, because once that judgement was made, it was done.

Ok sorry to go on a mini-serious rant, but I can’t be funny all the time.

Hope life is treating you well,

Jerry Seinfeld



Dear Ben Affleck,

Somehow you managed to go over a decade without making a good movie.  There was Good Will Hunting, Chasing Amy (see below), and then The Town.  In between we had classics like, Pearl Harbor (Michael Bay is awful), Gigli (rated worst movie of all time), The Sum of All Fears (worst Jack Ryan film ever), and Reindeer Games (you know how bad that was).  However, you did direct Gone Baby, Gone (during filming did you realize that Casey is a better actor than you?), so I have to give you some credit there.

Ok, that paragraph is neither here nor there, I’ve just always wanted to publically state my confusion over your career.  Now, to the point…the speech you made in the middle of Chasing Amy spoke to not only myself, but I’m sure millions of teenage/young adult males AND females everywhere.  Haven’t we all wanted to profess our love to someone who we are almost positive is going to ‘shoot us down?’  Granted, most of us are not trying to convert someone to the other team, to coin a Seinfeld term (change someone’s sexual orientation for you non-Seinfeld people. Yeah, I said it…you people), but the message is no different: “I love you…you probably don’t love me…but I needed you to know that.”  I know I’ve done it, and I’m sure I’ll be writing a future letter or two in this blog about it, but I guess I don’t understand why we feel the need.  Is it on the off-chance that the answer is the one we yearn for? Or is it because we just need to unload our burden.  Anyway, enjoy the clip below…beware there are a few choice words.

Letters sent…

December 2012
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