Open Letters Love Amy

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

Month: November, 2012

An Open Letter To “My Cherie Amour”

Dear “My Cherie Amour,”

You are a weird little song. I can’t hear any part of you without thinking of Almost Famous and Kate Hudson having her stomach pumped in the bathtub.

But now, thanks to Danny Elfman and David O. Russell, I will shortly thereafter begin thinking of Bradley Cooper and Raisin Bran after a moment spent pondering Patrick Fugit’s bowl cut and how it made me in love with boys with weird hair for a stretch of high school.

Thankfully, there was also a lot of other great music in Silver Linings Playbook, like Girl From the North Country, some Led Zeppelin and Alabama Shakes. All it was missing was a vintage Elton John track and it would be right up there with Almost Famous in my favorite soundtrack list (a list that also includes Guys and Dolls, because I don’t care if Marlon Brando couldn’t really sing and they had to piece everything together one note at a time, GUY COULD WEAR A SUIT, OKAY?).

You happen to feature prominently in Silver Linings, further connecting the two films in my mind. That doesn’t mean I like you a whole lot, but I had to at least acknowledge your presence.

Can’t wait til our next meeting in a film I really like.

Love, Amy


An Open Letter To Tuna Noodle Casserole

Dear Tuna Noodle Casserole,

“Desperation, laziness, overwhelming craving: I say these are three conditions that drive a person to make a tuna noodle casserole.”
– Melissa Gray, The Salt

I beg to differ. Overwhelming craving is the only condition. As you know, if you’ve read the rest of these letters, I live in Los Angeles very near my uncle, Jerry, but very far from my grandmothers. It takes two hands to count the number of times Jerry and I have gotten together to make you, for the sole reason that we missed the rest of the family.

Clockwise from upper left: turkey butt stuffing, sweet potatoes, stuffing from the box, green bean casserole. All my grandmother’s classic recipes, good friends of tuna noodle. Insider tip: the butt stuffing is the best.

Both of my grandmothers are fantastic cooks. My dad’s mom has always been more, let’s say, adventurous. A lot of things involving eggplant and liver. I also have a number of recipes she cut out of the newspaper and later marked “Good.” But it’s my maternal grandmother who makes you, tuna noodle. She makes you like nobody’s business. The classic way. No double digit ingredient list, no mushrooms with names she wouldn’t pronounce correctly anyway. Just you.

I’m sure the updated recipe from the article above is delicious. I love all the ingredients (minus peas, which should NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WHATSOEVER BE MIXED INTO ANY CASSEROLE, YUCK YUCK YUCK), but I don’t eat you because I want a delicious, gourmet meal. I eat you because I want to pretend like I am seated at my grandma’s kitchen table in Tillamook, Oregon, while the fireplace is making that creepy noise because of the wind and my grandma is doing dishes, talking about “those sluts” in the latest issue of People magazine. You are not in need of an update, as the article’s title suggests. You are perfect just as you are.

Before I let you go, I’d like to ask your opinion of something and, with any luck, finally settle a decades-old family debate. One of our most heated debates (yes, more heated than “Is it ‘padlock’ or ‘paddle-lock?’” Do you prefer to be eaten with or without ketchup on top of you? What’s that? No ketchup is allowed? Exactly what I thought. Thanks for settling things.

Never change.

Love, Amy

An Open Letter To Cory & Topanga’s Daughter

Dear Cory and Topanga’s Daughter,

Not to overwhelm you, but Boy Meets World was one of the most important, formative television shows of my childhood a close second only to The Wonder Years (previously detailed here). Sure, I also watched Growing Pains and Sabrina and Clarissa Explains It All and Brotherly Love, but nothing could top Boy Meets World.

So hearing the news that you will be getting your very own show on Disney Channel has me wishing I was still thirteen and had space in my DVR to keep up with whatever lessons you’ll learn and hijinks you’ll get into.

I don’t know what it was exactly about Boy Meets World that made it so wonderful. Maybe it was that it was never too preachy, too “let’s learn a lesson,” or too over the top with the physical and/or ridiculous humor. It had the perfect blend of all of that. I sympathized when Cory went through his awkward looking phase. I missed Minkus when he left. I thought Mr. Turner was hot, despite the mullet. I KNEW Jack was hot because I had eyes. I welcomed Rachel and Angela into my life during the fantastic, whimsical college years seasons. I gladly suspended disbelief as Mr. Feeny went to college with them all, cried when Sean’s dad died and loved the comical, weird turn Eric took later on. I gladly accepted the wedding invitation your parents threw up on the screen. I even bought the DVDs when they were available.

I spent most of my time with your parents during reruns on the Disney Channel, afternoons from 3:30 to 4 in that magical half-hour between when I got home from school and when my dad got home from work. You know, when I was supposed to be practicing clarinet (hello, natural talent like mine didn’t need to practice). But I first met Cory and Topanga thanks to my friend Lauren, who introduced me to the TGIF comedy block on ABC. These days, ABC could probably use your show there, instead of on the Disney Channel. What a wasteland that’s become.

Tim Allen’s Last Man Standing is painful and Reba’s triumphant return to the small screen, on Malibu Country, might be even worse. ABC obviously knows how to find funny family-friendly shows (Modern Family and Suburgatory are great), but why LMS and Malibu Country are on the air will continue to baffle me.

I do hope your show happens for reals and though you’re going to be on Disney Channel and thus won’t save ABC Friday nights from the ruin they’ve become, I hope you will at least guide and entertain a new generation of viewers as your parents did for kids my age. And please know that if Will Friedle ever makes a guest appearance as your fun uncle, I’ll delete Gran Torino (we all know I’m never going to get around to watching that anyway) clearing some space in the DVR to record the hell out of that episode.

Love, Amy