Letters to Fergie
You ever just find that you genuinely dislike a person but have no legitimate reason why? Too much haterade with my morning cereal, I guess. I don't understand why but one day I just woke up and decided I didn't like Fergie. This was after I rocked out to "My Humps" like nobody's business for about 4 months. The following is an open letter to one, Stacy Ann Ferguson.
Hey Stacy,
I'm here to say I'm sorry, boo. I was wrong. You might not grasp the magnitude of that last sentence but I never apologize for shit. After much thought and reflection I believe I know what had happa. See there was this girl who was my roaddog, my homegirl, my sister and my BFF, or so I thought, who turned out to be a meth head and managed to hide the fact from me for about 2 years. I think I projected my anger at her onto you because as every single article about you from 2006-2008 noted, you were addicted to crystal meth and once had a 5-hour conversation with a hamper. My bad.
Can we just get back to where we used to be, Stace? Back where we were in the mid-80's where I used to watch you everyday on Kids, Incorporated. Or how about back to how we used to be in 1997 when I bought your Wild Orchid single, "Talk to Me" from the Sam Goody at my mall.
Let me just say that I fully respect the fact that after all these years you have stuck to your chola roots and still rock them hoop earrings like it's 1995 and you're in LA going to backyard keg parties. Go 'head girl. Go 'head. Personally I gave up my wannabe cholo ways. My baggy pants and burgundy Top Dawg sweaters were no more by the end of 8th grade. Your "Big Girls Don't Cry" video was inspiring. It showed me what my life would have been like had I stayed with my first boyfriend, Smile Now, Cry Later tattoos and all. Let's just say I dodged a bullet on that one. Yes, both Milo Ventimiglia and my ex were sexy, bad boys but in the end, we knew what we had to do. We had to pack up our designer panties and move on with our lives.
Stacy, I'm sorry boo. My hateration of you was misguided and I now see the error of my ways. I still don't understand what you're talking about in the chorus of "London Bridge" but that doesn't matter now. What matters is that I'm here apologizing, asking for one more chance. I will no longer hate with no reason. (Except in the case of Jennifer Lopez. That ho irks me and I hold her fully responsible for the demise of Ben Affleck's career.)
I hope it's not too late for us, Stacy,
Your boy,
Aldo
Dear Heifer An Open Letter to the Big-Boned and Lazy
As a native Californian who has been driving since the age of 15 I often use the drive-thrus whenever possible, drive-up ATMs being a regular stop of mine. It is here where I have, on several occasions, seen someone wait in line, park right in front of it and then proceed to get out of their vehicle to use the ATM. Case in point, the woman in the picture below.
Isn't the point of drive-thrus not to have to get out of your car in the first place? If you're going to exit your vehicle in order to use said "drive-thru" then you're not doing it right. In an effort to prevent such obscene abuses of drive-thrus from continuing I have drafted an open letter to the culprits.
Dear Heifer,
I write this open letter to you with love and respect. Stop being a lazy ass and walk once in a while.
First of all you may be asking, who am I to criticize you? I'll be the first to admit that I could absolutely stand to lose some 50+ lbs, I will never be the poster child for Skinny Bitches, Inc and that my love of fried foods and cheese has guaranteed that I will never be accused of looking anorexic. But while I am fat, I am still not as fat and lazy as you.
I come to you because it's acts like this that give the rest of society reason to believe that me and all of my large and in charge brethren are as lazy as you. I may get winded while climbing a flight or two of stairs but I do not take the elevator. I may find it more difficult than it should be to bend over and tie my shoes but I will never buy the kind with velcro straps. I may have trouble finding things that fit in American Eagle because their clothes are cut small but I will never leave the house in sweats. By your actions and the actions of those like you you have made most of society think that all overweight people are lazy and completely sedentary.
Now obviously I don't get up and move as much as I should otherwise I wouldn't be overweight in the first place. But you best believe that if my fat rolls ever prohibited me from reaching my arm out of the window to push the ATM buttons I would not only not use the drive-up ATM, I'd have walked to the bank in the first place.
When I dance I can shake a tail feather, drop it like it's hot and sweep the floor with it like nobody's business. If you ask a certain Canadian friend of mine, she'll tell you that with a little bit of alcohol in me I can give a lap dance so good that my bumps and grinds, shimmies and shakes, hip thrusts and head rolls would give any Pussycat Doll a run for her money. My point is, I may be fat but I can and do still move, which apparently is more than I can say for your kind.
I'm not writing this solely to judge you. I'm writing this as a plea to you. Stop making society think we are all Gilbert Grape's mom! If Dance Your Ass Off and the plethora of Beyoncé-inspired YouTube videos have taught us anything it's that we large people can bust a move. Now before you fully break into the Single Ladies dance, start off slow by parking your car and walking inside the bank. I may be drinking a frapuccino as I write this letter to you but I did not use the drive-thru. I parked my car 3 rows away from the door and walked in with my head and double chins held high.
If you are going to use the drive-thru ATM then use it properly. Drive up to it, reach your hand out like you do when you're reaching for your #3 super-sized extra value meal with diet Coke and stay inside the vehicle at all times.
Sincerely,
Your brother in borderline high blood pressure,
Aldo
