Category Archives: Letters

Dear Charlie Sheen,

Here’s the thing, I never really liked you. Yet, I never really disliked you. You’re like Hilary Duff to me. I know you’re there, but I don’t really care what you do. I will admit that I watched your show from time to time and I’m like the only person in the world that has no problem admitting it’s a funny show. Did that bother you? How it was the number one show in the country, yet NOBODY would admit to watching it? That’s got to be rough, being everybody’s guilty pleasure. That puts you on par with Fabio and those cheesy romance novels he modeled for. Ouch. Although you were paid like a million dollars per episode, so I guess you probably don’t care. Maybe it bothered Jon Cryer. But then again, Jon Cryer is probably bothered by a lot these days.

And what’s with the tiger blood? If you’re going to start bringing tigers into this, could you at least be useful and answer that age old question for us? We really need to know, what DO tigers dream of? Nobody really questioned it before, but then The Hangover put it in our heads and we’re still thinking about it. I guess I could write a letter to Bradley Cooper and see if they would answer it in the sequel, but he makes me nervous. Have you seen how sexy he is? Like, damn. But since you seem to have made tigers cool again, I feel like you could answer the question for us. Cooper is probably too busy being sexy to give me a straight answer anyway.

Personally I would have been okay if you had stuck to being “normal crazy”. Like Britney Spears or Keifer Sutherland. They did messed up things, people talked about them and then they stopped. But you! You’ve taken crazy to a new level, and I don’t quite appreciate it. Why? Well because you’ve caused me to start disliking my own friends.  I can refrain from watching interviews with you. I have no desire to follow you on Twitter. And I’d rather be eaten by bears than apply to be your intern. But some of my friends can’t get enough of you! This concerns me because I’m afraid I’m going to punch the next person who says “Winning!” I mean, have you seen my news feed lately? I swear every other status has the word “winning” in it. I suppose I could un-friend some of them (especially that girl who I think I went to middle school with, but have no recollection of) but I don’t want to have to do that. Why make me the bad guy, when it’s obviously your fault?!

This is NOT okay.

I read an article about how your family still supports you. Do you realize how lucky you are? If I went even half as crazy as you, my parents would change their names and move to the North Pole.

I guess what I’m really asking is for you to tone down the crazy. Stop saying quotable things that will litter my Facebook and Twitter feeds. Stop hiring people to manage your crazy. And most importantly, stop me from hurting someone I may or may not have gone to middle school with.

Also, get rid of that fedora. It’s not a good look for you.


Dear Kid,

Dear kid who jumped a curb and almost killed me because you were texting while driving,

Seriously?! I mean, really?! How many people have to tell you that texting while driving is dangerous before you listen? I saw you too, I knew it was going to happen because I’m the most paranoid person on the planet and I watch every car that comes within 50 yards of me. I saw you with your Bieber hair (how can you even see the road, let alone your phone, with those side-swept emo bangs?) and your popped collar (I’ll write you another letter about that one–just, no) and your stupid little smile as you typed away on your stupid little phone.

Another thing, are you even aware that the speed limit on campus is like 10 miles an hour?! This means that you are allowed to go, at max, 18 miles an hour. You? Well, I’m pretty sure you were coasting at 45. I know this because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have FEARED FOR MY LIFE had you been going between 10-18. So there you are, flying down the road texting your friend about how cool it is to have hair in your eyes that causes you to flip your head ever 2.4 seconds. And here I am, walking on the sidewalk after a LONG day of class wanting nothing else but to get to my car so I can drive home. But no, first I must have a near-death experience to really end the day well. Did you even see me? Did you even know you were on campus at the time? Or were you too busy checking your Facebook for comments to a status that you had updated 2 minutes before. I wonder if that status said “Hey guys, about to head to class. Maybe I’ll scare the crap out of someone today LOL :)” I’m sure you’re a decent person outside of your car (minus the popped collar and wannabe hair) but maybe it’s time to reevaluate things. What if I wasn’t paranoid and hadn’t been looking. What if some asshole biker came flying down the sidewalk at the same time you did? We would have had ourselves a Bike-Mansee-Car sandwich, and not the good kind. Or what if I had checked my phone at that time (which I’m allowed to do since I was walking and not controlling a large people-killing machine) and didn’t see you? I might not have jumped out of the way. And then I’d be on the ground.

And you might be in jail.

Sigh. Do me a favor, kid, and check out Oprah’s website. Actually just click *here* and do what it says. Make your car a “no phone zone” so this doesn’t happen again. Do this so Oprah doesn’t come beat you up. Because she will, she will literally punch you in the face with her billion dollar fist. And I’ll stand there (alive!) and laugh. I will laugh at the billion dollar punch and I won’t feel that bad, just like how you probably don’t feel bad that you almost ended my life.

(Not so) sincerely, Mansee