Dear John Letters #3

I was having a really good day. Then I decided to play beach volleyball. Great for the tan, bad for the back. Which is now hurty. Which then leads to cranky. Which gets you this little treat:

Dear Avery & Other Binder Makers,

This is a class-action letter, in reverse. I am but a single person, but I'm taking all of you to task. Why, if you make binders with clear pockets from which to display stuff, do you then put stickers on top of the plastic that are impossible to take off and then leave a black film behind? If I wanted black streaks on my covers, I could just print them that way. Don't you see how counter-intuitive this stickering is? I mean, you're not selling fruit. Save my manicure, stop the stickers.

***

Dear Retail Store Pricing Device-Making Industry,

Again, with the class actioning. Because all of you are guilty of shoddy products. Why on God's green earth does the sticker tag need to be scored in such a way that makes it impossible to take off in less than 30 microscopic pieces? That, by the way, will embed themselves under my fingernails that then take forever to get out! I understand that you want to curb theivery in the stores and deter people from switching tags, but with the sophistication of SKU technology these days, is that really necessary? Peeling those tags off when you're giving them for gifts is a bitch and a half. And the recipient either receives a tag that's half-removed (tacky) or a gaping hole in the packaging where the tag ripped it away (also tacky). Please, cut it out!

***

Dear Tony Tomey,

I'm very proud of you for making your own Captain America outfits and shamelessly strutting about in them along Hollywood Blvd. But since you were being photographed for a 2-page spread in Los Angeles magazine, would it have hurt to remove your underpants before putting on your costume? Visible panty lines on women are unsightly enough; on men, they're downright disgusting.

Next time, go commando. Your fans will appreciate it.

***

Dear French Fries,

You are, by all accounts, the demon food of the century. You are filled with all that is toxic to the body: bad carbs, malevolent oils, evil salt, and all that other junk that leads to heart attacks. And yet, you are also incredibly tasty. But the price I paid for scarfing down a handful of you at lunch just wasn't worth the lethargy of the food coma one hour later. It was impossible to think, let alone operate properly. Productivity hit -45. I could have been fired and it would have been all your fault! You evil temptresses!!

(Editor's note: I don't know why I decided that French fries are female. Just go with it.)


***

Dear Citysearch,

OMGWTFLMA:LJFLJDFOU()*&%)$&(*#$!!!1!!!11. If any of that makes sense to you, you are an idiot. Because while teenagers IMing themselves into stupidity is one thing, those of us in the profesional realm should be utilizing the English language to the best of our abilities, not the worst. And having a link that says "Send 2 Phone" on every restaurant listing as a convenience to your users is giving me the Grammar Nazi Dry Heaves. Is it really that difficult to write out the word "to"? I get that you're being edgy because text messaging lends itself to this ridiculous shorthand, but guess what? It's still stupid. And makes me H8 you.

I hate myself for doing that.