Situation: Anarchy

January 19, 2014

The letter request:

I need your assistance. I bought a lovely watch from David Jones for my gorgeous sister. She has small wrists so needed to get it adjusted. She went back to DJs but was told they don’t provide this free service anymore… It seems that they’ve taken a leaf out of the budget airlines school of Customer Service offerings with optional extras like a watch that fits your wrist fitting this category…

 

The letter:

Dear David Jones

Thank heavens you’re not in law enforcement. Here’s what might happen if you were: you’d arrest a perp, slap a pair of cuffs on them, the perp’s wrists would be slightly on the dainty side, the cuffs would slip off, the perp would escape, you’d shrug your shoulders and walk away. Situation: Anarchy.

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Sex is a game for two. Sometimes three or more.

November 21, 2013

The letter request:

I’m looking for work and saw my dream job advertised but I noted applications had closed a few days earlier. I phoned the company and asked if they would accept a late application, explained my qualifications and gave a bit of history. They said they would like me to apply so I pulled an all-nighter and submitted the next day. Two hours later I received an email advising I had not been successful.

 

The letter:

Dear HR Manager,

Sex is a game for two. Sometimes three or more, sometimes one, but often two. When someone fakes an orgasm, it is generally for the benefit of the other person involved. There is no great enjoyment to be had from faking extreme pleasure; it’s just something one might occasionally do to make someone else feel better about their performance. Altruism, you might call it, for want of a better word.

Last week I applied for a job with your company. We spoke on the phone prior to my applying and you seemed enthused by my experience and credentials. You said, ‘Yes! Please Apply! Just make sure your application is in by 5pm tomorrow.’ I spent many hours writing, gave considered thought to each of your selection criteria, sought consult from friends, checked in with potential referees and finessed my resume. I spent a few hours daydreaming the logistics which in this case involved imagining myself resigning from my current role, imagining myself moving across the country to take up the position, imagining the impact on my relationship – you get the drift. I was quite excited.

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Shit, no, not my heart, my wallet

October 7, 2013

The letter request:

Ok this is the deal. I went to replace my stolen drivers licence today and it’s free of charge if you can produce a police report. So I took my San Francisco police report only to be told they only accept Western Australia police reports. Accordingly they sent me down to the local cop shop to lodge a report of my licence having been stolen in San Fran – 13,000 km away…

 

The letter:

Dear Western Australian Department of Transport,

I left my heart in San Francisco. Shit, no, not my heart, my wallet. I left my wallet in San Francisco. I left some brain cells at Burning Man and it’s rendered me a little confused.  You, however, seem incredibly confused. Someone less polite might call you stupid.

When my wallet was stolen on the other side of the world I did what most travelers do and reported it to the police. Not because I thought they’d track down the sticky-fingered pickpocket as they spree-ed Vegas with my credit card, but because I figured it would be useful to have a police report to help me get the necessary replacement cards once back in Australia; in particular, my drivers licence, which I need for work.

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The warm glow of knowing you’ve helped chickens

September 9, 2013

The letter request:

I want to write a letter to my local IGA to ask them to get more free range eggs in. Sometimes they have them but often they don’t and I’m left having a half an hour debate with myself in front of the egg section whether or not to buy the cage ones on a Saturday morning when I really want to go home and make eggs benedict.

 

The letter:

Dear IGA,

It gets hot in Death Valley National Park, Nevada, USA. Damn hot. So hot you could fry an egg and someone tried this recently. They posted a video of the experiment on You Tube and it went viral, leading to a spout of copycat egg-fryers testing the theory around the National Park until the rangers sent out a loud plea, Dudes! No More Frying Eggs in the Park! It’s getting MESSY!

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Did you seriously just light that shit-stick?

June 10, 2013

The letter request:

Here is the situation. A lovely woman at my work has tried to set me up with a colleague of her friend. She told me he was a smoker and wanted to know if that was okay. I wasn’t really thinking and said ‘Sure, I’ll give it a go’. Said person (Rob) then emailed me. On the day he emailed me, a new friend from the sailing club died of lung cancer. A compelling reason to not date a smoker. Can you help with a reply for me to send Rob?

 

The letter:

Dear Rob

I have something to confess. I’m a morning person. I literally bounce out of bed every single day. Bounce, I tell ya. I arrive at work at an hour when most other people are hitting snooze for the first of 25 times. I’m friendly with crisp air, shadowy moons that linger over early daylight and the peach glow of sunrise on inner city windows.

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Dear Joseph

May 9, 2013

Way back when, we wrote the lyrics for a song called Dear Joseph in exchange for a polka dot scarf. We’re very excited to tell you it’s now been recorded and is about to be launched! Co-written and produced by Peter Joseph Head and sung by Evelyn Ida Morris from Pikelet, you can hear it here. And here are the lyrics so you can sing along…

Dear Joseph, do you remember me? / We were side by side on Tiger to Sydney / You were scared of flying / I felt sorry for you / But when you started chatting / I ducked behind my Paris Review / O Joseph / You kind of lost it in a sense / O Joseph / When we hit that turbulence / I’m a reading girl, you’re a chatting guy / I tried my best but I ain’t gonna lie / I’ve never been to Crown or a sale at a DFO / When we landed I had to google Costco / I was glad to disembark / Glad to get away / Maybe it’s me who loses out / When I keep others at bay.

He’s pretty much taught her how to be a dog

March 22, 2013

The letter request: 

My neighbour is off on a roadtrip around Australia and I want him to leave me his dog, Harvey. My own dog, Shyla, and I have become quite attached to him. The dogs are always going under the fence to see each other. Also, Harvey also teaches Shyla a lot and he is making her into a more confident dog.I’m willing to give visitation rights and I’m happy to send photo updates as well but ultimately I think his dog will be better off staying with me.

 

The letter:

Dear Guy,

Do you ever feel like life is too banal? Like we respond to things in a way that is just so foreseeable that life has lost all meaning? That our existence has no sense of surprise?

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Pack away the hula-hoops and never mention them again

March 22, 2013

The letter request:

I supervise this guy at work and I really think he should date another of our co-workers, because she’s great and they have a lot in common. I know nothing about him really so I’m not sure how to broach it. Is it bordering on sexual harassment? Can I tell him I require it as part of his job?

The letter:

Dear Steve

Team building. How does it make you feel? I know, I know, it can feel forced and naff and awkward BUT it can also be a cool way to learn some crazy arse skills you wouldn’t dream of learning otherwise. Like semaphore flag signalling, for example. Or hula hooping. Or writing a rap song.

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A whale could destroy a starfish in a millisecond

March 18, 2013

The letter request:

Five friends, from four different cities around the world, organise a NYE reunion at the zoo. We part with a sizeable sum for a prime fireworks position in the ‘gold’ area to maximise fun, view, and minimise toilet and drinks queue time. But on arrival we were greeted by a long bar queue that didn’t seem to be moving. The first 40 minutes, and regular intervals thereafter, were spent in the queue rather than enjoying views with friends. 

 

 

The letter:

Dear Zoo

Colours do not always represent status. In grade three I was in a maths groups called the Blue Whales and my friend was in a maths group called the Red Starfish. Because both blue and red are top-shelf colours with no inherent value attached to them – and because whales and starfish each have their own wonderful and unique attributes – my friend and I didn’t know which group was the top group and therefore which one of us was smarter at maths. So I get it, colours do not always represent status. Except when they do.

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Matt Damon, Sexiest Man Alive

December 13, 2012

The letter request:

Matt Damon is working on a film based around Coal Seam Gas – ‘Promised Land’. It will be released in Australia in early 2013. I’d like to invite him to come to Australia for a tour throughout Queensland where Coal and Coal Seam Gas are major environmental issuess.

 

The letter:

Dear Matt Damon,

For quite a while now I’ve had an inkling you’re one of the good guys. When you and Ben Affleck won that Oscar and you gave a shout-out to your dad about how your seat was better than Jack Nicholson’s, that cracked me up. And your impression of Matthew McConaughey always angling to take off his shirt – classic. And when you were crowned the Sexiest Man Alive and said that thing about being an ‘aging suburban dad’ – super sweet. So you see, even though you’re a total stranger who lives a million miles away (figuratively, if not literally) my impression of you has always been, ‘That Matt Damon, what a great guy.’ Which is why I was thrilled but not surprised to hear about your upcoming film Promised Land.

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