Fangirl Correspondence: A Letter to Whitney

My Dearest, Darling, Lovely Whitney,

Words cannot express my exuberance upon the receipt of your letter. Your aptitude for the written word is quite unparalleled.  I think often of our time together with great fondness.

I imagine that this was swiftly followed by a viewing of some film featuring Sir Brendan Fraser.  As I remember, for you, his superior was never met back in those days.

I mean, how could it?

My time has been spent caring for a certain Mr. Steve Rogers.


I’ll let you decide which Steve Rogers I am talking about?  I will give you a hint, though.  This Steve Rogers delights in waking me up in the morning to go potty and not for more, ahem, enjoyable pursuits.


Most of this month has been spent getting through the season finale… season.  It has been exhausting.

Difficult life

Also, reading more stupid/wonderful romance novels than I would care to admit, but here is an accurate reenactment.


You would think that amidst all this CRUCIAL reading and TV watching I could have maybe found time to keep writing, but…

I regret nothing Also, and this is of the utmost importance, I need to know when you are coming to visit me.  This will be an accurate reenactment:


Think about and know that I miss you quite dearly.

Everlastingly yours,


Fangirl Correspondence: A Letter to Ellen

My Dearest Ellen,

Gracious, how long it’s been! Why, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your radiant company since we danced together at your brother’s wedding. Too long by half, fair cousin.


(I do apologize for the inclusion of Sam’s wayward eyebrow. Those things have no concept of personal space.)


Enclosed is a picture of me, being just too Kevin Bacon for my own damn good.

As so much has happened since we last tore it up, I beg only a few short lines to fill you in…

I started taking better care of myself.


I’m seeing someone new…



I’ve made Pinterest my prison wife.


I have resolved, many times, to watch less TV and dedicate myself to my studies. A resounding triumph, obviously.


And now I’ve moved home for the summer, where accommodations are decidedly less expensive.


I hope that this letter finds you well, and still the baddest of mama jamas.

I’ve also included an artists rendering of what you and I will look like in 20 years. I hope you are as trilled with the results as I am.

Yours Ever,