An Open Letter to The Mars Company

sharing size

Dear Mars Company,

The other day while traveling to the grocery store with my mom, I came across a 3.7oz package of M&Ms. Splashed atop the upper right corner of the package was a bold proclamation. You have taken it upon yourselves to declare this 3.7oz package a “sharing” size. Now, I understand that you, a faceless corporation driven by numbers, may think that 3.7oz is perfect for sharing but I am here to tell you that you are wrong. Who am I sharing with? An infant? The only entity I am likely to share 3.7oz of chocolate with is me. A more appropriate size to slap with that label would be 12oz or more. Your consideration for my caloric intake is unnecessary and frankly, unwanted. You’re not the boss of me. I will eat however many M&Ms as I see fit and no, I am not sharing.

Love and smiles,

Alexis

An Open Letter to Dictation Software

Dear Dictation Software,

What? Over the past few months I have come to rely on you seeing as my fingers are no longer able to press buttons just one time. Rather, these pesky digits insist on including four of each letter because to them more is always merrier. Seeing as I disagree very strongly with this ill drawn conclusion, I turn to you. It took me a pain staking three and half hours to install and train you, Software. And for the most part this work has paid off. However, there are times where I cannot help but wonder what are you even doing???  I understand that it is hard to understand me when I am giggling, which is why I am patient with you and do not resent having to repeat myself in times of immense amusement. But for the love of all things literary, I cannot understand how the word, “cuddling” translates to “documentation”! What do these words even have in common? This is not your only grievance, Software! You very frequently scatter “the”s and “and”s throughout my entries like unwanted seasonings. Like it is possible to have too much salt, it is possible to have too many articles. I have also noticed that you have a particular resentment for names. I cannot remember how many times I have removed the name “Kate” from your list of recognized words. Yet still you suggest it every time I try to say my friend’s name (spelled “Kait”).

I understand that you prefer to be addressed and spoken to like a people. You do not like it when I excitedly raise my voice or speak to you as though you are stupid. I mean, I say “druid” often enough that you should know what I mean when I say it. Although, that apparently is not the case. Whenever I speak to you as though I am speaking to a person, you respond so much better. I try to remember this. I do. But whenever you cannot tell the difference between words I cannot help but be frustrated. Software, you are a lesson in the art of synonyms. I have had to delve repeatedly into my extensive vocabulary to portray something as simple as “hugging” because apparently the term “hug” does not compute. I have also noticed, Software, that you are quite prissy, prim and proper, replacing my swears with what you deem to be more “acceptable” even after I have repeatedly removed these replacements from your recognized vocabulary. This pretentious behavior on your behalf is in fact unacceptable, as I like to say exactly what I mean. I don’t need any guff from you, Software. That is not your place.

Additionally, it takes you what feels like years to adjust to my dog’s barking. Every time Kip barks you feel the need to translate this into people speak. This is how I learned that dog’s do not say “woof” rather they say “I” and “all” and most frequently, “will”. Apparently Kip will do a great many things, although he never does complete his thought. The implication that he will do something should be enough. For every bark – every single bark – you stop all of my computer processes to record every threat of his. Leaving me with a succession of “will will will will will will will will will will…” in my dictation box. You find Kip’s words so important that you will not let me cancel or switch windows to do anything at all until you are finished. This can take several minutes. I have to silence my microphone so that you can’t hear any more. It doesn’t seem to matter where Kip is in the house. You have a honing beacon on his voice.  I love the dog, but dang, Software, calm down. It’s an empty threat, I promise.

In conclusion, while you are quite frustrating, I have little choice but to depend upon you. I will try harder to speak to you like a people and in return I expect that you will try and do better to understand me. Or there will be consequences which will ultimately end in my frustration but consequences nonetheless.

 

I am a gay essay getting and give this day,

Alexis

An Open Letter to Bathroom Doors

Hello all, it’s been a while and that is absolutely my fault. You see, for the past few weeks I’ve been thinking that I owed you, my dedicated readers, these really profound posts. I don’t know how I get these ideas into my head. If you wanted to read truly profound things a few times a week, I really doubt you’d be following me of all people. So, now that I’ve gotten this ridiculous idea out of my system, I would like to present you with my first post in a month;

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Dear Bathroom Doors,

Why are you so much smaller than the rest of the doors in the house? My chair fits easily through all of the bedroom doors, the front and back doors, and even the patio door. And while I do enjoy being able to get into the rest of the house, you must surely realize that beyond your white painted wood lies a very important part of my day. I, like every other living thing on this planet, have to expel waste. Your doorframe, while only inches smaller than my bedroom doorframe, is narrow enough to hinder me from having easy access to your interior. This is quite frustrating, Door. While I have managed to find a way around it in my own domicile, your narrow frame continues to thwart my access in the homes of my friends and family. This essentially keeps me bound to certain locations. I really enjoy socializing, Door! If you were mere inches wider, I would have significantly more freedom. But alas, this is not the case. Perhaps one day, contractors will realize that all doors should be made equal because handicapped people need to pee too.

Best regards,

Alexis

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