A Letter To My Dinner

Dear Dinner,

I just wanted to take a second or two to thank you for filling me up today.  You have ensured that I will not be hungry until most likely breakfast time tomorrow.  I say most likely because I don't know how much of that morning hunger is actual hunger or just the fact that I'm used to filling my pie-hole around seven in the morning and if I don't do so promptly my body starts sending me warning signals.

I stand by the tried and tested rule of, "No Dessert Until You've Cleaned Your Plate."

With that in mind, I'd also like to thank you, Dinner, for being so likable in the first place.  I mean, you really should have seen it - I was, like, done eating you in four or five bites tops.  If you listened closely enough you would have heard a "shoom" sound as the fork went into my mouth.

If there's one bit of constructive criticism I could give you, Dinner, it would be that you just aren't as satisfying as a good breakfast on a Sunday.  You know the type - where you don't need to eat for the rest of the day afterward. Please don't get the wrong idea, I'm not saying you should try to change to be more like breakfast.  I love you, Dinner, just the way you are.  It's not a competition.

You know, now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't have even brought up breakfast.  

I mean, not mentioned it.  "Brought up" sounds like something else entirely.

Wow, talk about putting my own foot in my mouth there.  Anyway, how's your mom and dad doing?  Did they ever get that hole in the boat fixed?

Great catching up, 

Hope to hear from you soon,

-ryan

Dear Pluto

Dear Pluto,

I'm writing you today, as a friend hopefully, because I want to be there for you.  It's no secret, I don't really like dogs, but I hate to see anyone without someone to talk to.

For years people have wondered why Goofy can talk but you can't.  After all, you're both dogs.  And you're not stupid.  Especially compared to Goofy.  Hell, Goofy has an offspring - that means someone actually mated with him.  Let's face it, the guy is an effing idiot.  I've seen the cartoons where he tries to do sports and just keeps messing it up.  Sure, not everybody is good at sports.  You don't want to see me try and play basketball.  But c'mon, the guy frigs up everything he tries to do.

And yet he can talk and you can't.

Or can you?

Am I to believe that you choose not to speak when, in fact, you've always been able to?  Are you choosing to keep silent because Mickey, Minnie, and the rest of the gang are so used to the utter bullshit that comes out of Goofy's mouth you might be afraid how they react to your first words?

I bet you're even very well spoken.  You probably speak better English than I do.  And I've been speaking it my whole life.

Maybe you just have nothing to say.  As your (new) friend Pluto, I want you to understand that whatever you have to say is important.  Your feelings and opinions are just as valid as anyone's.  Unless you start every sentence with something like, "Huck-yuck gawrsh," in which case just keep your fucking pie-hole closed.

Your pal,
- ryan

My Letter To Skeletor

Dear Skeletor,

I'm writing back to you in regards to your request to borrow five bucks from me.

I don't get it, dude.  You're one of the evil Masters of the Universe.  What do you need five bucks from me for?  Is this some kind of Eternian Pyramid scheme?  These things never work out well for anyone.  You should really consider putting your money to better uses.

Wait, if you're compiling funds for another attack on Castle Grayskull then just stop now.  You have yet to come up with a great follow up to the Diamond Ray of Disappearance.  Skeletor, I'm telling you as a friend here... the Diamond Ray was the best shot you ever had at capturing Grayskull.  And it was your first attempt.  Maybe you should think about conquering another castle.  At least for now.

If you really need money, you could always consider getting a part-time job.  But heads up, don't apply to work at Target.  They're closing all their stores here in Canada, so I can only assume it's a matter of time before they start chopping jobs in the States too.  Then, it won't be long and the Target store on Eternia will be gone.  For some reason, I think I heard somewhere that the Target in the Fright Zone will be safe.  But that's a long daily commute for you to do just to work those four-hour shifts.

Did you think about asking Hordak for the money?  I know it's a long-shot, but hey, you never know.

And I know what you're thinking, it's only five bucks.  But I gotta tell you, since having this second baby we're trying not to excessively spend.  So that means my days of funding evil super-villains on the side is on hiatus.  Whatever you do, don't drop my name around Cobra Commander.  He didn't take it so well when he asked me for bus fare and I said no. 

So, again, I'm really sorry I can't help you out this time.  But keep me in mind if you plan on invading Trolla in about three years time.  I might be able to help then.

Your friend,
Ryan of the Ryan Fan Club

PS - if you need money to buy some face cream, I have a few open containers around here that were too sensitive for my skin. I'm not saying this to make you jealous.  You can have them if you want 'em.

A Letter to Crayola Crayons

Dear Mr. Crayola,

Together forever, it's true?

I'd like to think you couldn't imagine a world without color.  Oh, what that must be like.  Terrible, I'd imagine.  Just terrible.  It's why, I assume, over the years you've released so many different crayons in a wide variety of shades and colors.

I shit you not, when I was a kid I had a silver crayon and I wouldn't let anyone else use it. I thought it was amazing.

But recently I've come across two crayons while my daughter was coloring at a restaurant.  You can see the picture of them.  Yes sir, you see correct.  You have one crayon named "Red Violet" and another one named "Violet Red."

Let me just say that I have no problem spending my hard earned money on quality products and services... but seriously, Mr. Crayola... what the frig?

HOW ARE THESE NOT THE SAME BLOODY THING?

The names are just flipped.  The color is clearly different, but the names are essentially brothers from another mother.  I'm disappointed in your level of creativity - especially since you're responsible for such crayon names as Atomic Orange, Blizzard Blue, Cerulean, Fuzzy Wuzzy, Jazzberry Jam, and many others.

I propose you change the name of either "Red Violet" or "Violet Red" to something more catchy to reduce any further chance of confusion.

Here are a few suggestions for a new name: Period Red, Monthly Discharge Red, Bloody Nose Monkey, Jazzy Tampon, Toxic Shocking Fuchsia, and Easy Applicator Ambrosia.

You don't have to select one from my list of suggestions, but c'mon, Toxic Shocking Fuchsia would be the first crayon I reached for every time.  It might even replace my silly old "silver" one.

Thanks in advance for making the world a better place,

- ryan

PS - why do you even bother with a white crayon?

My Letter To Captain Planet

Dear Captain Planet,
(Can I call you Jeff? Or is that too personal?)

I'm writing you today to ask for your help with something.

Every Sunday night I put out my recycling for Monday morning pick-up.  The recycling schedule alternates each week - one week is paper, and then the next is plastic/glass/cans.  I don't need help with sorting my garbage, that's not the problem.  I'm also really good at rinsing out my spaghetti sauce jars before putting them in the blue bin.

My troubles revolve around my empty beer bottles and cans.

Whenever it's blue box night, this creepy looking dude comes around in a beat up shitty car and goes through my blue box for the cans and bottles.  He then takes them back to the beer store to collect on the deposit.  My box isn't the only one he invades.  He also goes through my neighbors' boxes too.

He's gonna bring pollution down to zero!

I've looked at him sternly through my front window, but I'm apprehensive about approaching him.  I fear that he might not be returning those cans after all, and instead melting them down to create some kind of super-aluminum cannon or something.  In fact, there's a good chance this man is an evil super villain or crime lord in the making.

So, do you think you could come by my place this Sunday night and wait for the creepy guy so you can give him a kick in the nards or something?  Maybe a nice little lecture about keeping off other peoples' lawns?  If you're feeling passive aggressive about it then you could just casually walk by and let the air out of his tires.

Thanks for your help with this Captain Planet.  I owe you one.

- Ryan

PS - Yes, I realize this can mostly be solved by me just returning my own empties to the beer store, but ain't nobody got time for that.

A Letter To The Pink Power Ranger

Attention: Babysitter needed.

Hey there Pink Ranger,

I know you're probably really busy saving the world right now from that red dude with the big Z on his head, but my wife and I are in dire need a babysitter this weekend.

You see, Rick Astley is in town for his "Still Never Gonna Give You Up" world tour, and it's something we really don't want to miss out on.

We've had other babysitters, and yeah, they've been great.

But there's just so much darned danger in the world these days that we think our child would be best left in the hands of you Pink Ranger.

If a burglar came into the house you could give him a big karate kick.  At bedtime you could recount your adventures to our daughter as a nighttime story.  I understand that you've got a commitment to your Power Ranger team, but honestly, there's like a dozen of you jumping around fighting the bad guys all at once, isn't there?  I'm sure they could do without you for a couple hours on a Saturday night.

The wifey thinks I've selected you, Pink Ranger, because you're the best looking girl on your team, but I assure you that I've already gone over the list of your qualifications with her, and this isn't some cheap attempt to have a college girl in our place at late hours of the night while I leave the liquor cabinet unlocked.

That thought didn't even cross my mind.

We pay babysitters pretty decently, and we should really only be gone for three hours.  Four at the most.  I mean, we're gonna try and hang out backstage with Mr. Astley but we're not counting on it.  Our daughter isn't one of those bubble kids either.  You know the kind - they can't eat anything, breathe anything, do anything, or be placed in direct sunlight.  She's an easy going kid.  And she's potty trained.

Also, it's open season on the food in the refrigerator.  Help yourself to whatever you'd like to eat.

Please let us know right away if you're available.  We also asked Sailor Moon, and she said she could, but you're our number one choice.

Hope to hear from you soon!

-ryan

My Letter to The Little Mermaid

Dear Ariel,

You know something?  I don't hate you anymore.

While it's true that I used to have a huge hate-on for you and your little animated feature, I've put it all behind me.  The first and, until very recently, only time I'd ever seen your adventure was sometime in the mid-90's.  Sure, on paper your movie should have everything I like - a scantily clad redhead, dripping with water, trying to hook up with a dude.  I think I've seen another movie with this premise on the Internet too.

Anyway, the first "girlfriend" I ever had was really into your movie.  Probably a little bit too into it.  I mean, she was about as obsessed with the flick as I am with Aerosmith, and that's pretty unhealthy to begin with.  I use the term "girlfriend" loosely because while I asked her out and she said yes, I don't have any memory of us every kissing or getting to third base.  (What's third base like under the sea anyway?)

So yeah, in an attempt to get a bit closer to this girl I decided to watch your movie.  Meh.

Too much singing at useless times.

That's what I thought, and that sort of became my motto for Disney movies in general.  I mean, why did you feel the need to sing about how you wanted to be "part of that world" when it was just you and your little fish buddy hanging out together?  Why do Beauty and the Beast have that magical duet together when they fall in love?  Who does that?  Who falls in love with someone, takes them up to the bedroom, pulls off their clothes and starts singing to them?  I always figured that was a way to not get laid.

I understand why the old lady in Cinderella sings "Bippity-Boppity-Boo" though.  That bitch is crazy.

Okay, now I'm rambling... but you get the point.  So these days I have a two year old daughter.  The apple of my eye.  The greatest of all my creations.  And she's into Disney flicks.  And last week a commercial came on for your movie on blu-ray and I pretty much had no choice but to give in and watch it with her.

Mostly, I didn't care so much for the film.  It wasn't bad, it wasn't great, it was just sort of "on".  I really dug the scene where your boyfriend runs the witch through with the mast of his ship.  That was both beautiful and poetic.  But I found myself watching my daughter during the movie.  I was watching her watch the movie.  And she friggin' loved every minute of it.  And anything that gives her that much enjoyment is alright in my books.

So there.  I don't hate you anymore.

Sincerely,
Ryan Fan Club

PS - Your sisters are all pretty cute, and if any of them are available I think I can get a Hall Pass from my wife for a weekend.
PPS - While you and I may be a-okay, there's no way in hell I'm watching The Little Mermaid II: Return To The Sea.  Because typically, Disney sequels suck.