Open Letters Love Amy

Because the Internet is easier than buying stamps and I will just lose your zip code anyway.

Month: April, 2011

An Open Letter To the University of Oregon

Dear University of Oregon,

When are you going to stop emailing me?

Look, I went to you because I figured college was what generally came after high school. It came down to you and UPS (“Oh you mean the package delivery company?” HAHAHA yes of course, annoying person! I’ve never heard that joke before!) because, due to a variety of family circumstances, I decided I probably should not run away to the East Coast. You won the big prize (me, obviously. Because unlike Princess Jasmine, in this particular story I was, in fact, a prize to be won.) because you offered more scholarship money in proportion to tuition. So I showed up, lived with Becky, then Becky and Zach, then Zach, then Zach and Jennifer, then myself and then got the hell out of Eugene.

I did not terribly enjoy my time with you – in fact the most fun I had those four years was when I was living in LA for a term. So thanks for letting me get academic credit for that I suppose. Opposite of thank you for still charging me (read: my dear sweet mother) student fees for that term, by the way. How was I supposed to use the rec center and EMU from a different state?

The email you sent that said “Congratulations on earning your Winter 2011 University of Oregon degree!” it has seemed like our relationship has run its course and it would be a good time to quit emailing me about how to get tickets for sporting events and how to stay safe on campus. Actually January 2008 probably would have been the ideal time for that, so really you’re behind schedule, if anything. The only part of you that I remain interested in is the office of Prospect Management and Analytics (which will always be called RPM in my heart) who are the best people on campus, if not in all of Eugene.

Hope you’re doing well and we can hurry up in making this a clean break.

Love, Amy

PS: I’d love to give you that $10 to join the Alumni Association, but I can buy three shrimp tacos for that price. Three! You understand.


An Open Letter To Katy Perry

Dear Katy Perry,


Love, Amy

An Open Letter To ‘Friday Night Lights’

Dear Friday Night Lights (and Dusty maybe don’t read this until you have finished watching at least season 3),

This past Thursday I watched The Office (are TV shows italicized like book titles? Do I care right now? No? Good.) for the first time since season 4 ruined EVERYTHING. It was going fine, a few laughs here and there, but nothing special. Then something magical happened. A promo for season 5 of you came on.


I had heard a few things a while back that you were going to be coming back for a final season, but didn’t know that April 15th would be the day. And what a day it was.

See, I’m not sure if you remember our brief meeting in early February. At the time, I was finishing my last term of college at the University of Oregon. Seasons 1-4 of you and I spent midterms week together. It was honestly the most intense relationship I have ever had with a television show. I watched you all weekend, and then all the time when I wasn’t at work (HI, RPM!!!!!) or in class or asleep. I did absolutely no homework or reading so deep was my instant love for you. (Sub-Open Letter To My Mom: I still got a 3.56 GPA so you aren’t allowed to be mad and/or disappointed. Love, Amy) Ecopoetry could WAIT – the town of Dillon had real problems going on that I needed to see through to their resolution. Because television is obviously a real-time interactive thing and it was essential that I personally make sure that Matt Seracen was going to be okay.

I’m still not really sure how to accurately describe my infatuation with you. Your characters are rich and developed and your stories are always compelling and seem soooo reallllll (except for when Landry killed that guy and got away with it. I mean, what?). It also doesn’t hurt that Tim Riggins is a thing.

So imagine my excitement when I learned that within 24 hours, I would be able to watch a brand new episode of you. And it had everything! Buddy Garrity Buddy Garrity-ing, Tim Riggins being all broken and sad, Coach Taylor being awesome, Tammi trying to save the world one Dillon teenager at a time, some classic Grandma Seracen moments, even a Crucifictorious (I am not even trying to spell that correctly) concert! You, Friday Night Lights (again, I am just italicizing away over here, sorry if it’s supposed to be quotes or something), are perfect and always will be.

Except that maybe I wouldn’t mind if there was less Billy Riggins involved in all this. And by maybe I mean: definitelypositivelymakehimgoaway.

Love, Amy

PS: I laugh audibly every time Coach Taylor calls Landry “Lance.” EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I have no idea why I find that so hilarious, but I do.

An Open Letter To My New Bag

Dear New Bag,

Good Lord you are beautiful. What did I ever do without you?

I am going to put so much stuff in you! My wallet, my keys, old gum wrappers, parking garage tickets, Netflix DVDs that I will still manage to forget to put in the mail, that receipt from the CVS self-checkout (forever reminding me that I did in fact purchase an InStyle magazine, Chips Ahoy and nail polish at 10:30pm one night because I’m AWESOME AND TOTALLY HAVE A LIFE) and lots of bobby pins. You’re going to love it.

Once you are full of all these magical things, I am going to take you everywhere. We’ll probably start at King’s Road (Johnny might give you a kiss!) and then come back home for a few hours. Then we’ll go to Plancha and get shrimp tacos. Then (and this is where it begins to get really exciting) we’ll come back home and I’ll take a nap while you sit on the kitchen table and do your best to ignore the whining noises the dogs will be making because no one is taking them hiking. Eventually, I’ll wake up and work on the internship research (because I am evidently destined to be an intern at various non-profits and TV shows for the foreseeable future). At some point I might take a shower and we’ll go meet Jerry and Dusty somewhere (Larchmont? Toast? Lulu’s? The possibilities are endless) to eat and judge passersby. If you’re really lucky I’ll take you to Silverlake and we’ll eat quiche and/or crostinis at Forage. Basically, we will be doing a lot of eating. I know my talents.

Next week you’ll go to work with me. Maybe we’ll even get to pick up the catering and climb out the back door of the car because the parking spots at CBS are so small! You missed out on the Great Mixing Bowl Search of 2010, which happened in October – but that’s probably for the best. I was mean to the bag that accompanied me on that week-long journey, but sacrifices must be made for television. After all this hustle and bustle we will go to Urth on Sunday night for more coffee and maybe-not-quite-quiet-enough judging of passersby with Jerry and Dusty.

Aren’t you glad Aunt Molly sent me that Anthropologie gift card for college graduation and now we are best friends?! Me too. Welcome to Blackburn Station where the only rule for my possessions is “try to not get peed on by Meme the min-pin.” You’ll be great at it and we are going to have a good run. I can just feel it.

Love, Amy

An Open Letter To Tyra Banks

Dear Tyra,

Thanks for teaching us how to sign your autograph on Top Model l a few weeks ago!! Really valuable stuff. Last week, I really enjoyed the bits where you monopolized all the camera time talking about how it’s not all about you.

But my favorite part was when you made it very clear to Brittani that you hate her and wanted her gone. I mean, I am very much not on her side anymore (who acts like an idiot in front of Nigel Barker? He is HANDSOME. I’m not sure I’d even be able to speak in complete sentences in front of him let alone go batshit crazy on Alexandria while he is standing there watching), but wow. You really don’t like her! That said, the photos were actually kind of cool last week so that’s exciting!

Oh, and your music video is still one of my favorite things EVER.

Counting down the hours until Wednesday night at 8! <3 <3 <3 LYLAS LOL.

Love, Amy