Letter Number Sixty-Three.

Dear TLC's What Not To Wear,

See you in five years! No, seriously, how can the world tell you it's okay to wear t-shirts and jeans for 20+ years and suddenly condemn you for not wearing skirts and flimsy dress pants that make you cold in winter and produce tons of static cling to cement to your fat legs?! I'm an adult, I can wear what I want! Pointy-ended shoes?! I'm not listening! I'M NOT LISTENIIIIIIING!

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number Sixty-Two.

Dear VR Troopers,

Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers was definitely better than you, but at least you knew when to die. Sure wish Fox or whoever would stop Land-Before-Timing them.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. Was in-costume Trini really played by a man? The mystery remains.

Guest Letter Wednesdays! Number Ten.

Dear Scientology,

I'd write about what shite you are, but I'd rather not be sued.

Love,
John Doe

P.S. L. Ron Hubbard, fondle my danglies.

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Dear Beadazzler,

You were a cute concept, but are truly GAUDY AS SHIT. What a damn shame.

Love,
Kate and Kym

Letter Number Sixty-One.

Dear Snow Days,

I have not had nearly enough of you in my time. And, now that I'm out of school, outlook is bleak that I will ever fill the deficit.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. I wanna go freaking sledding.

Letter Number Sixty.

Dear Jewel-Osco Brand Frozen Pizza,

It must be declared, that you break the mold for generic grocery store products. The generic cereals, soups, and boxed mac&cheeses are always "just as good" and "taste very similar", but you, oh king of generic grocery store food items, are so...ohh...OHHHHH..."better than most".

It is an illustrious title granting you many privileges. Take advantage.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. If you can figure out what happened up there, I'll be more than a little embarrassed.

Letter Number Fifty-Nine.

Dear Vegan Cupcakes,

Most definitely you appeal to my social conscience. Most definitely you appeal to my visual interest in all things pastry.

Most definitely, you typically taste like a dustpan.

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number Fifty-Eight.

Dear Dubai,

Way to pull a freaking Bono! I mean, attempting to gank the awards for tallest building and hotel, and the largest waterfront development, man-made islands, mall, indoor skiing facility, amusement park, AND airport? Can’t you create an innovative metropolis without ripping the record rug out from under everything? Sheesh, dude.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. Though the first underwater hotel sounds pretty neat-o.

Guest Letter Wednesdays! Number Nine.

Dear Cameltoe Song By Fannypack,

It's not cool that you're still stuck in my head, and I know that we're secretly in love, but if you could PLEASE make it so I don't accidentally find myself singing you as I walk down the street I'd really appreciate it. I'm awkward enough as it is. kthanksbye!

Love,
Kate

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Dear Facial-Haired Hotties,

Get out of my face...
...and in to my pants!

Love,
Erika

Letter Number Fifty-Seven.

Dear World,

Shnookums, I think you need to take some time and figure your shit out before we continue this long-term relationship.

Have you considered shock therapy?

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number Fifty-Six.

Dear StumbleUpon,

You are the closest thing I have to installing a black hole in my life.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. I am so very tired.

Letter Number Fifty-Five.

Dear Valentine's Day,

Today we come together to celebrate love's...you were yesterday? Well, shit.

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number Fifty-Four.

Dear Silk (the almost entirely unknown R&B group, not the fabric),

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIzb32F6ZLA&feature=related

I know you tried here, and I, as a listener, appreciate your effort. However, as a video, there are several reasons this couldn't possibly get you laid (this is not a comprehensive list, either):

1. There is only one woman in the video, and you all never come anywhere near her (except some ghostly outline of her on your rotating stage thing).
2. The verse singer spends the whole time just sitting in a chair, though in the second verse he's in a more "freaky" position...hell yeah, backwards chair action.
3. "Twenty-four carat gold" bad-ass player wannabe motion.
4. In the second chorus, one of your guys does an awkward humping thing.
5. I'm no fashionista, but vertical stripes and yellow pants...goo. I'll kinda let you off on that one, though, because it was the 90s.
6. Camera work at "Aye yi yi yi yi!" - Holy seizure, Batman.

Maybe you can try harder on your next music video...oh, sorry.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. I'd say take a lesson from Boyz II Men, but in "I'll Make Love to You" the girl and guy are only in the same place when he's installing a security system for her house.

Guest Letter Wednesdays! Number Eight: ONE FROM A STRANGER!

I found the following letter in my inbox! I have yet to think of a stellar response, but yippie!

Dear Kymba,

I found your button on my comfy chair at Ambrosia. A good mystery/surprise after reading way too much Kant for class. Is this button how you spread the word to randoms? Is this button's appearance proof that you are an actual-person, and not just an internet-person?

Curiouser and curiouser,
Adam

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Dear Jetta,

You may have a temporarily broken stereo, you may have a steering wheel that's always a couple degrees too cold or hot depending on the weather, and if you were a person, you'd be old enough to have your own freakin driver's license. But damnit if I don't love you so much it makes my face hurt. Thanks for all our time together baby, and if I didn't drive you as much this year, just know that I thought about you all the time when I was walking the streets of London. Thanks for everything.

Love,
Kate

P.S. And I know that I've sang along to lots of shitty music in lots of weird vehicles, but with you it's really special.

Letter Number Fifty-Three.

Dear 7-11,

Your damn “hot, fresh sandwiches” sign keeps tricking me into thinking that you are not a 7-11, but a Krispie Kreme. And a Krispie Kreme with hot fucking doughnuts. How dare you make my fat ass think there are hot Krispie Kreme doughnuts in an area where there are none. How dare you.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. Rarrrrrrrrrrrrr:







(2nd image from hownow.brownpau.com)

Letter Number Fifty-Two.

Dear Aaliyah,


(Images from aaliyah.blog.hr)

You wore long jeans in 90% of your music videos, and yet you were still one of the all-time sexiest female pop music artists to ever live.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. I wish pop music ladies now would take a freaking hint.

Letter Number Fifty-One.

Dear Cilantro,

I know you cry yourself to sleep at night because of all the player-haters out there. Let me tell you something though, baby: I used to be one of them. But now I've finally realized that you complete me.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. And my taco de aguacate.

Letter Number Fifty.

Dear Etsy,

I cannot calculate how much money, time, and sleep I have lost on your search bar. Whenever I am on your site the Unholy Demons of Ridiculously Soft Cuddly Colorful Crap possess me to type in unreasonable things like "bunnies" and the rest of my evening and bank account is stolen from me as I stare dumbstruck at unfathomably adorable felt, knitted, and amigurumi bun-buns. At one point last night, I realized a part of my rational soul had been taken as well.

Curse you.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. Do they make a snuggly crap search bar demon exorcism?

Guest Letter Wednesdays! Number Seven.

Dear Italian News,

I've been highly impressed that you appear more concerned about the upcoming US elections than the fact that your own government fell. Thank you for caring so much about us, and allowing me to follow news from the States while being completely unaware that the government here dissolved.

~Stephanie

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Dear Kymmy,

You are the best sister ever and when I'm away from you I miss you deeply. You are the yin to my yang, the ketchup to my burger, the TP to my tush (and both you and I know that that means a lot since I use a shitton of toilet paper), the sunshine to my sunny day, the sis- to my -ter...I MISS YOU!

And you're the only one that makes me laugh until I have to pee my pants. And I would drive three hours home if it meant we could take a trip to the grocery for a midnight snack.

(insert many other mushy statements here)... I love you!

Love, (Always),
Moe

Letter Number Forty-Nine.

Dear Super Tuesday,

If I had a penis, I would’ve woken up with morning wood today.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. And I would be poking you lovingly in the back right about now.

Letter Number Forty-Eight.

Dear Baby Penguin And Baby Sea Turtle,

Which one of you is cuter? I cannot very well tell.

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number Forty-Seven.

Dear Mittens With String Attached So They Hang In Your Coat Sleeves And You Don't Lose Them,

I would seriously consider shanking someone if it meant you would suddenly be available in adult sizes.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. Preferably with knitted snowflakes on them, woo!