dear iphone 4

Dear iPhone 4,

[I guess this letter would also go out to any and all smart phones that have flooded the market in the past 5 years.] Thank you. From the very heart of who I am, I just really want to say thanks. Did I live before you? Yeah, sure. But as I look back at my life B.I.P. (before iphone) I really just don’t know how I made through each day. Could I survive in a world without you now?? (pause for effect) . . . . . . . . . . . . . I shudder at the thought. Would I breathe?? Yes, of course I would. I just wouldn’t want to without my iphone4.

Don’t get me wrong. I been on the cell phone bandwagon from the very start. I had the huge monsters that I drug around and made calls on, when I could find reception. I may even remember a call or two made from phone that I carried around in a giant over the shoulder bag (I think we carried around individual cell phone towers, now that I think about it). And as time went on and technology progressed, well, we know what happened. The phones continued to get smaller, cooler and began to do many other things besides make a phone call. Up until a year and half ago, I was pretty content with my small, cool phone that actually took pictures. I mean, what else do I need, right?? I had heard about these “smart” phones and wanted nothing to do with them. I imagined them to be an overly complicated device that had no place in the life of a normal guy, like me. Maybe the Wall Street type of guy could use them or some doctors or whatnot, but me . . . . I didn’t see the need. Besides, only techy, pretentious arrogant people use those things.

Then I held you. And all of a sudden the App world unfolded before me. Then I had to have you. How could I have not brought you into my life?? How can one glimpse into this unparallelled universe of possibilities and not want to be a part?? I had to get on board. And thank God I did. Life now has more purpose, more ease and flow. You name it, I do it . . . from my iphone. Surf the web? Check. Need directions? Weather info in Santa Monica? Got it. Angry birds? You know it. You Tube? All over it. Read Sports Illustrated and then the Bible?? Done. You do so much for me and then some. I swipe through hundreds of videos and pictures, make grocery lists, watch TV, program my DVR, all while I enjoy streaming music. God, I love you. Thank you again and again just for being you.

Matt

Sent from my iphone4

dear child's toy package

Dear Child’s Toy Package,

Really?? . . . Are you kidding me?? . . . Think maybe you take your job a little too serious?? I do. And I realize I can’t speak for everyone else on the planet, but I got a pretty good idea that most of us are all on the same page about you. You need to take it down a notch or two. Relax a little. Chill.

Keep in mind, nobody WANTS you. We want the toy that you are packaging. And I get it, you two go together, thus the phrase, “a packaged deal”. I understand that. Also I realize that you perform a necessary service. Toy manufacturers can’t just simply throw a Mr. Potato Head and all his accessories arbitrarily in some cardboard box and expect the customer to be pleased with the product when it is opened. Things need to be secured. They need to be fastened down. Listen, I feel we all can agree on this point, no one is upset at WHAT you do. You are vital and essential. You are extremely appreciated.

The struggle we have with you is HOW you are doing your job. It should not take 3 people and 2 tools to free Malibu Barbie from her cardboard torture chamber that you call “standard packaging”. A college degree or a skilled trade background should not be required to open a toy for your child. Are you even aware of frustrating position that you put us all in?? Let me explain: child opens present, see’s toy, tries to get at it but can’t - because of you, gives it to the nearest adult or two to open because the child now feels like he/she should have been playing with this toy 5 minutes ago and will now stand beside you impatiently and urge you to open it faster. Now, I have to get through all the plastic, postal tape, wire banding, staples (and I think barbed wire is used as well) all before my 2 year old daughter has a meltdown of epic proportions. Usually, this process takes way to long, the child gets bored from waiting for the toy, grabs the box (which was easy enough to open, at least) and then spends the next 3 hours playing with cardboard instead the $29.99 toy that she had to have. I blame you.

Just do your job. Don’t go crazy with it . . . just . . . just do your job. Keep it simple. Back it up a little. Find a balance we all can agree on. Just, please, . . . please make it easier. Thank you.

Hopefully Putting Away The Needle Nose Pliers And Steak Knife,

Matt

dear doctors office scale

Dear Doctors Office Scale,

You suck and you lie!!! Do I need to be any clearer?? Your “facts and information” are askew. Listen, I know my numbers, okay. I been stepping on you and your kind for over 4 decades now and I got a pretty good grip on my stats, all right? I am 6 foot and one half inch tall and my weight is always between 185 – 190. Got it?? That’s my facts. That’s who I am. Those are the numbers I been carrying for over 15 years. You feel me??

Now, all of a sudden, you have the audacity to tell me something different?? I don’t think so. Granted, it may have been a few years since I had a check-up, but what you are trying to tell me has got to be wrong. 6 foot even and 235 pounds?? Are you on dope?? First off, where did the half inch go?? I’m not 84 and battling osteoporosis. My spine is fine and I drink lots of milk, so I know you are wrong there. And 235??? Are you kidding me?? Don’t get me wrong, 6 foot 235 are good stats to have . . . . if you are a tailback in the Big Ten. But I am just a warehouse worker in Columbus, Ohio, so I figure those numbers mean to me a high risk of diabetes, asthma and a future candidate as a heart defibrillator patient.

So here’s the deal. Apparently the doc wants to see me again next week . . . . whatever . . . . anyhow, between now and then I expect you to get your weights re-calibrated and your little ruler thing double checked, because next time I step on you, you better be giving me some better numbers. If not, I guess its off to the Biggest Loser for me.

Until then I’m sucking it in,

Matt

dear child safety gate

Dear Child Safety Gate,

I need you to know how much I appreciate you. You give to me a precious allowance that I've always taken for granted, my freedom. When I set you up in the doorway and lock you in, I can feel my sanity flooding back with every confident breath I take. On my side of the doorway is a calm and orderly place. On the other side is a world of chaos and anarchy. You are the stronghold between refuge and revolt. I've always felt close to you.

I have to admit, I'm a little shocked that you've lasted this long around here. It doesn’t matter how many times the kids knock you down and climb all over you, you always seem alert and ready for action during my time of need. I also respect your swagger; you rarely go down without a fight. You've bucked my son about a dozen times and pinched my daughter twice (I know you were just doing your job). I sometimes give them snacks just to leave you alone. I've noticed that you also have a soft side. You give my 1 yr old a shoulder to cry on between her plea's for release.

While you are working, I'm able to have my life again. I get the house clean, shower and try to get my lunch in before the kids make me feel like they are prisoners. Sometimes I will push it a little bit longer and check my Facebook. At some point, however, I am forced to take you down, sacrificing my freedom for theirs. Afterwards, it only takes an hour or two before they are crazy again, so up you go, like a super hero in action. Thank you for the freedom to prepare dinner, do laundry, watch Oprah, write letters, and much more. Thank you for being part of our family. I'm sure that when our little ones are all grown up, you will -no doubt- be adopted by one of my sisters. I hope she will be as grateful for your liberating powers as I am.

Appreciatively Yours,

Kristin

dear chewy brach's christmas tree candy

Dear Chewy Brach’s Christmas Tree Candy,

I imagine that there haven’t been too many people to thank you for just being you, and if there have been none, then let me be the first. Thank you for restoring my Christmas spirit this year. Life, as you know, can get very hectic and stressful, especially during this season. We get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of things that we miss this Seasons true meaning. We have too many things to buy and too little money to buy it all with. We spend what we can’t afford. We go deeper in debt. We pile on the stress.

Then we have too many places to be in too little amount of time. We gotta go to this party here and we have to go see “so and so”, then swing by that party there, then host another party, and then comes the family. We gotta go see your side, then make time for mine, let’s not forget our own immediate family . . . . . this chaos seems to repeat a lot lately. The rush of it all is borderline overwhelming.

Then I saw you. At my Dad’s house in candy dish in the kitchen. It’s really kind of hard to explain exactly how I felt once I seen you. You actually made me stop what I was doing and just be still in your presence. You made everything slow down and seem quieter. You, for one quick moment, took my breath. You see, when I saw you, I remembered Mom. She passed away over 5 years ago, but whenever I see you, I think of her. She always had a dish of you out each Christmas. I actually don’t see you too many other places, but Mom always had a lot of you around. And when you caught my attention, I remembered all the sweet Christmas memories that my Mom helped create. I remembered her telling me that one year we didn’t have much money, but she promised that we would have a bunch of LOVE for Christmas . . . and we did. And as all these wonderful, warm memories flooded through my mind, the chaos of this year just seemed to melt away. I truly was beginning to feel “glad tidings of great joy”. Things started to make sense again. My allegiance shifted from the mall back to the Manger. And it all started with you. Thank you chewy Brach’s Christmas tree candy, I promise to get a bag of you for every Christmas to come.

Merry Christmas,

Matt

dear hubcap [part 3]

Dear Hubcap,

I guess it's pretty clear that you're never coming back. I've

been hanging on to hope for nearly two months now and for

what??? Why should I care anymore? You obviously don’t care

about us. I can understand if you're mad at me for scratching you

on the curb or for the whole "rubber mallet incident", but how could

you just leave the others like this? I cannot imagine how

embarrassing this is for them. YOU ARE DESPICABLE. Not only

that, but you have put me in a very unpleasant position.

Because of your reckless abandonment, I have to tell the

other three that - without you - they are no longer viable members

of our transportation team. I have to tell them that their years of

benevolent commitment have been wasted thanks to an

irresponsible forbearance by one of their own. At this point I wish

you could be found so that we can make it clear how despised you

are. I actually smile when I entertain the idea that maybe you were

picked-up by a bum and are currently employed as his ashtray or

urinal. Is that the life you were hoping for? Did you really have it

that bad here with us? You're NOTHING without us; you will never

amount to anything. Wherever you are, just stay there, you're not

welcome here anymore… I DON’T NEED YOU. If you ever do

show your worthless face around her again, I won't be reaching for

the rubber mallet, I'll be introducing you to the sledge hammer.

SINCERELY,

Nate

dear wobbly-wheeled shopping cart

Dear Wobbly-wheeled Shopping Cart,
Please stop stalking me! You can try and deny it all you want, but we both know you are. How else can you explain the fact that every time I go to the grocery store, I end up with you? I swear you must see me coming and push the other carts out of the way to get to the front of the cart line. I don't realize its you at first, but once I've wrapped my hands around your guide bar and pushed you 15 feet, you show your true colors. Like a very clever predator, you wait until the automatic doors have closed behind me, then you start your demented little dance that torments me so. By then it's too late to turn back, so I am stuck with you the entire journey from deli market to checkout. Very clever indeed.
I know that you are stalking me, because today you magically appeared at Wal-Mart and at Target yesterday. How do you always know where I will be and when? Did you strike a deal with the pre paid cell phones and somehow tap my line? Better still, how on earth do you make it to the next stop on my agenda before I do? It IS a 20 minute drive after all!
I do feel however that I owe you a thank you. After all, had it not been for your constant drifting to the left, I'd have never stumbled across that sweet Ohio State hat for $10 that was misplaced in the jewelry department. Now don't go thinking that makes us friends. Be very clear, we are not. I want nothing to do with you ever again. In fact, the next time you force your misguided, uncontrollable, wobbly-wheeled self into my hands, I will toss you in the back of my Jeep and throw you into the first large body of water I drive by. Go torment someone else and leave me and my family to shop like normal people, instead of going where you want to go.

Hoping this is the end (and wearing a really cool hat),
Jason