An Open Letter To The Grove

by Amy Lindorff

Dear The Grove,

Thanks a whole lot for ruining Frank Sinatra for me! He came on earlier today when my iTunes library was on shuffle (right in between She and Him and The Backstreet Boys. I am nothing if not diverse) and I had to skip right over him. Why, you ask? Oh, because I felt like I was walking through The Grove on my way to pick up either: maps of Paris, bat puppets, a mixing bowl big enough to fit over a human head covering said human head down to the neck (it is not an object that exists, trust me), seven lunch orders from the Cheesecake Factory or fabric samples for classy new outside-the-hosts-office-sitting-chairs from Crate and Barrel. Each of those things had a different effect on my mood, ranging from ‘making me incredibly grouchy’ to ‘not so bad actually’ but all of them happened while you were blasting Frank at me and now I can’t just listen and enjoy him. I instantly sit up a little bit straighter and have visions of run slips. It’s not bad, it’s just not ideal and it is all your fault. Thanks to you Frank Sinatra and The Late Late Show are inseparable in my mind, kind of like how the smell of a Panda Express automatically makes me think that I am with my first high school boyfriend. Sinatra and Panda Express were never my favorite things, but now they are things that I just can’t enjoy without a whole bunch of other thoughts jumping immediately to mind. So thanks.

Love, Amy

P.S. Yes, my first high school boyfriend was Asian. He’d probably want me to clarify that.

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