May 26, 2005

I'm a big fan of the open letter concept. Whenever I 'm feeling like a giggle and a laugh, and have a couple of minutes to spare, I meander over to McSweeney's. The concept of writing a letter to unknowing people, places, and things just tickles me pink. I've been known to take a stab at it, at this very site, talking to my future neighborhood, an ex boyfriend...and I have at least a dozen open letter drafts saved for other times. Ramsin of GB really made my day with the most recent Revenge. Open letters are fun fun fun.

So without further adieu, Open Letter to the Phone Call I'm Desperately Waiting For:

Dear Phone Call I'm Desperately Waiting For,

I want you. I need you. I am lost without you. I want nothing more than to be with you, right now, alone, with a glass of champagne and a smile on my face. I would give anything to hear your sweet yet slightly annoying ring in my ears, to feel the cool beige handset of hope against my head, to hear the words I so desperately yearn for. You've been a long time coming, Phone Call I'm Desperately Waiting For, and I am tickled with anticipation for your arrival. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't even explain to you how impossible it is to keep my cool. And wait. We all know I hate waiting, yet you continue to leave me sitting with no word...wait a minute, is this a test? To see if and when I will break down and cry? To see if I will go stark raving mad? To see if I will break all of the unspoken rules and do something inappropriate? Well, screw you, then, Phone Call I'm Desperately Waiting For. Screw. You.

What's that? The phone is ringing, oh my god it could be you I might throw up my hands are shaking I can't believe it holy crap I am so nervous and excited!

It wasn't you, as I'm sure you are aware. I bet you set that guy up to call me, just to trick me into getting all adrenaline-rushed and dry-mouthed and stuttery. Did you know that I ate at least 5000 calories yesterday, in an attempt to ease the tension in my stomach? Yeah, you're right. It didn't work. I only feel fat and bloated and even more uncomfortable today because of it. You are a tricky little bitch, Phone Call I'm Desperately Waiting For. You are making me turn on my own body, making me reevaluate my worth, stress over whether you have the correct phone number, if you ever made it into a calendar or a to-do list, if you were lost in the busy comings and goings of daily office life. I hope you weren't.

I forgive you for making me wait, my dearest Phone Call I'm Desperately Waiting For. More honestly, I WILL forgive you if you arrive soon. But if you wait until 6:00 this evening, I might slit my wrists in agony and self-justified imagined defeat. Not really, but I might end up with an ulcer by then, and I might eat the huge box of Mrs. Field's cookies sitting on our small conference table, conveniently located right in front of my desk. They look disgustingly greasy and fat laden to me now, but I may be hopelessly lacking in the self esteem and self restraint departments by the end of the day. So it's up to you, Phone Call I'm Desperately Waiting For, to save me from myself. I'm here, waiting. For you.

Love always (unless I don't hear from you soon),


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