Dear Reese Witherspoon,

Your days in my good favor* are numbered:  “Witherspoon Hates Bouncy Castles” - IMDB.com

I wonder if, after “Legally Blonde 2: Red, White and Blonde” AND “Four Christmases“, your career will be as resilient as the bouncy-castles you so publicly despise.

Ever,
Meredith

* Election was rad.

Hello, the internet.

please avert your eyes to the mess that my web-host has created for me to unmessify. Let us hope together, that one day, the links and tags and what not will all work again.

Yours,
meredith

Dear The Internets:

DISCLAIMER: Prepare yourself for a somewhat-shameless ploy for your hard-earned-money. But this time, I’m not asking you to help me buy a pirate ship or a wax model of myself, it’s for The Good ™, I promise.

On May 31st, I will be participating in a Punch-A-Thon benefit for the Center for Anti-violence Education (CAE)* and I’m a-lookin’ for sponsors and fellow punchers.

It’s like a walk-a-thon, except, instead of getting sponsored by the mile, you get sponsored by the punch (punching into the air, not at a person, and most assuredly nowhere even NEAR a gift donkey). And it will be in sunny prospect park AND there will be snacks AND face-painting AND most importantly of all, I may or may not be wearing a fancy new pair of Chuck Norris ACTION PANTS:

So here’s how it works:

• you can sponsor me by the punch (example: at 5 cents a punch, 500 punches would be $25)
• or you could do a flat sponsorship (even $10 or 15 would rock my socks, just donate online here and reference “meredith & punchathon”)
• or if you live locally and want to participate, download the flier/form here
• OR none-of-the-above, which is totally AOK.
  

Email me for more info.

* CAE is a 34-year-old nonprofit in brooklyn that offers free courses in self defense for survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault, of which I also happen to be on the board of directors. (oooo “board of directors”, faaaancy).

Rare moment of earnesty: I am a craptacular board member. We are supposed to fundraise- that is what a board does. But I am usually too mortified to directly ask my friends for support; I know that many of you are as paycheck-to-paycheck as I am. So anyway, I tossed and turned about whether or not to post this here. I promise that the next post will be whimsical and absurd!

I do not think I have ever laughed so belly-achingly as I have while listening to this dramatic reading of a teenage breakup-email last night. A bottomless sea of gratitude to my dearling friend Angel for forwarding this to me. I would like to also take a moment to endorse the firefox internet browser and its built-in spell checking feature.

TURN UP YOUR SPEAKERS FOR THIS.

And, as there was no photo/artwork associated with this post, I will share with you my emosaurus drawing, though it is only somewhat relevant:

via yourthemannowdog.

Maury Povich
c/o The Maury Povich Show
15 Penn Plaza,
New York, NY 10001

Dear Mr. Povich,

With a fulltime job, I have but a few precious and coveted mornings a year to watch daytime television. Today, I awoke in an allergies-haze and decided to stay home from work. My only solace amid my mucus-y misery was the knowledge that at 9:30 and then again at 10, I could depend on an entire hour of paternity testing on The Maury Povich Show.

Surrounded by tissues, bundled in blankets, I gathered the last shreds of energy in my body to find the remote and tuned in, only to discover, mid-sniffle, that today’s shows surrounded sending sexually active 13-yr-old girls to jail, and women who cheat on their husbands with other women, respectively. Not a single paternity test to speak of. on either show.

Maury, the people want paternity tests. There is no use fighting it.

thank you,
meredith

dear friends with wombs,

I would like submit the following evidence in favor of breeding:

thank you,

meredith

(via rarebirdfinds)

To the dearlings who kept checking this site while I was on vacation:

Truly I am earthen scum and undeserving of your visitorship. To make amends, feel free to hurl cream pies at my site, or, if you prefer, you could send dinosaurs to trample it:

yours,

meredith

Dear small-but-cozy-community-of-readers-of-my-site,

In the past week, my RSS-reader, in which I have gathered all of the hundreds of blogs, feeds etc that I share here for your enjoyment, has decided to break. I am thus cut-off from my easily organized and carefully collected Interwebs of Awesome. This presents a unique challenge for me to actually create original content with out my link-response-crutch.

errr..

uhh…

doodoodoo.

doodlydoo.

well, this was clearly an ill-advised plan.

To Mr. Shalini, Egon and the 3-4 other now-deceased pet fish whose names I have forgotten,

It has recently come to my attention that pet fish are capable of learning their own name, and are thus, at least in some way, sentient. I feel the need to apologize for the flippancy with which I regarded your species’ intelligence, and my shallow attitude toward your deaths under my clearly-negligent care. Egon, I am sorry for over-feeding you. Mr. Shalini, I should have known that you wouldn’t survive a 2 hour move in a plastic-bag-full-of-water.

Fincerely,
meredith

Dear People who Design Accessories for Home Appliances,

First, I would like to thank you formally for designing dress-up-clothes for robot vacuum cleaners. Second, may I suggest some of the following for your next venture:

1. The Blender Tiara

2. The Paper Shredder Monocle

3. The George Foreman Grill Pork Pie Hat

Thank you for your consideration.

Ever,

Meredith

Dear kind and generous readers:

I have come to the realization that my life to this point has been missing something essential, something intrinsic and fundamental, something that, until today, I could not name or describe, but without which I am unwhole. This morning I have, while reading the news on the Internets, had an epiphany: I must have a mammoth skeleton.

I beseech you, my friends, to donate today to the Meredith is a Worthless Shell-of-a-Human Sans Mammoth Skeleton Foundation (MiaWSoaHSMSF). The auction begins today in Paris. Time is running out.

Love and rockets,

meredith