Yo, Goldilocks

The letter request:

It’s been a month since I asked my whacky housemate to move out yet he seems to still be here. We are carrying on as though the conversation never happened. I need a letter to give to him as a gentle reminder that our house sharing relationship is over. 

 

The letter:

Dear Brad,

Something funny has been happening around my house lately. I go into the bathroom and the shower is all wet. I say to myself, ‘Someone’s been showering in my bathroom.’ I go into the spare room and find the spare bed disheveled and unmade. I say to myself, ‘Someone’s been sleeping in my spare room.’ I go into the kitchen and I see someone cooking dinner. I say to myself, ‘Someone is making Pasta Arrabiata in my kitchen… after I asked him to move out.’

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A whale could destroy a starfish in a millisecond

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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If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it

The letter request:

I have been working as an artist for 18 years (theatre, writing, movement, performance, even (short) film) and yet, why do I feel like I am going nowhere? Or in fact, needing to go somewhere? Where is the place I am going? Does it exist? How can I make a living as an artist? I often feel lost.

 

The letter:

Dear Amaara,

Everyone has a story. In fact, everyone has multiple stories. Some stories play out in the real world and some play out in our minds. I don’t mean that as in, ‘In my mind, the universal acclaim of my art affords me a lifestyle where the word Centrelink has no meaning to me whatsoever, and I can travel the world and never have to worry about how I’m going to pay next month’s rent and, oh yeah, I’m married to Michael Fassbender and our sex life is OUT OF THIS WORLD and on top of that he totally loves making me tacos and doing the dishes and ironing my expensive frocks and, guess what, he knows all the right settings on the iron so the fabric never ever burns.’

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Unreconstructed 70s male

The letter request:

Dave is an English dude who has lived in Portugal for six years, he’s divorced and is now around 50yrs old. He’s kinda stayed sexist in that old fashioned, women-belong-in-the-kitchen, hasn’t-realised-he’s-old-yet-and-still-perves-on-young-girls kinda way and I think he needs a kick in the arse to wake up and realise that the world is more progressive than the time warp he seems to be stuck in.

 

The letter:

Dear Dave,

Elvis is dead. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but it’s better you hear it from me than some complete stranger. Also, John Lennon is dead too. Double whammy. Take a moment to regroup, I can wait.

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I’d be played by Rachel Bilson

The letter request:

Ok – truth be told, he is pretty much everything I’d ever want in a bloke and I relish every second we’re together! The problem? He hasn’t got a clue. He loves spending time with me, no doubt, but the thought of ‘him and me’ is well beyond his thinking, I’m sure. I’m the mate he trust and talks to about the other women in his life; not the other way around. The letter I want to write isn’t exactly a head-over-feet love confession, but certainly a message that any girl would be so so blessed to have him.

 

The letter:

Dear Charlie,

As the female in this friendship I have three primary obligations. One, to introduce you to my hot girlfriends. Two, to tease you when the women in your life suddenly realise you are the love of their life and fall at your feet. And three, to warn you when your life is dangerously close to becoming a romantic comedy.

Consider yourself warned.

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I felt your hiccups

The letter request:

Nothing can compare to the love and joy I already feel for my unborn nephew. Since receiving the first announcement of his existence (a texted photo of the positive pregnancy test) I have treasured every minute of his progress. From copies of each set of ultrasound photos plastered all over my fridge (much to the despair of my new housemate), to attending an anti natal class with his mum, to feeling his little hiccups, I have been there all the way. I can’t wait to meet this cheeky little monkey and watching him grow into a very special person. 

 

The letter:

My dear Little Peanut,

You probably think it’s not possible to fall in love with somebody you’ve never met but I’m sorry to say you are wrong. Don’t feel bad – having just been born, there’s a whole heap of stuff you’re yet to learn. That’s where I come in, you see; I’m here to teach you.

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Knock me down with a feather

The letter request:

Could you spell out to Qantas that if they are going to make me spend the whole day waiting outside the airport with a dog because a bird has suicided into their plane they should at least give me a free meal when they squish me onto a red-eye.

 

The letter:

Dear Qantas,

The idiom ‘You could have knocked me over with a feather’ means that when someone is shocked or in some way unstable, they are easy to knock over. The imperative part of this being that the issue arises before the feather but the feather is not the issue.

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Feral children

The letter request:

Kids playing in communal driveway/garage and waking me from my afternoon sleep, Sunday morning sleep-in or interrupting good television watching time! Kids scream/it’s dangerous as they are playing on a DRIVEWAY/ they may scratch my car with their skipping ropes, tennis balls, etc. I’ve attempted to confront parents of annoying kids but parents are just as annoying. Parents stand at one end of the driveway screaming ‘Aaaa – bbeeee’ to their daughter Abby.

 

The letter:

Dear Body Corporate,

I spent my first 18 years living on a main road. I have also lived on Temple Bar. I am the eldest of 32 grandchildren on my mother’s side and I have worked at Centrelink for ten years. This demonstrates that I am aurally tolerant – be it with traffic sounds, people puking outside my bedroom window, children screaming or adults abusing me.

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Be cautious of free-roaming animals

The letter request:

I’m really glad that my friend has fallen in love and is moving to the side of the world but I just want to make sure her new beau realises that we’ve still got her back and we’re fierce over here

 

The letter:

Dear Max,

On behalf of Lucy’s homeland, I just want to tell you how excited we are that you and Lucy are about to build a life together. You are the luckiest man in the world because Lucy is an absolute catch. As I’m sure you already know she is gorgeous, super smart, fun, a true friend, a fabulous cook, always up for frivolity and an expert in all things Lego.

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Erbium (Er) or Bismuth (Bi)

The letter request:

I want to say thank you for spending the morning in court with me when it was at expense to him. For generally being massively supportive and an excellent loyal friend. Also I am pleased he’s now in a stable relationship. This makes me happy.

 

The letter:

Dear Damon,

Some people say every cloud has a silver lining. I don’t keep a spreadsheet to track my misfortunes so I don’t know if this is always true but with this particular storm cloud, the silver is gleaming at me like gold.

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