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Archive for July, 2021

Dear Rick Springfield,

Thanks for the chat this week. It was … surreal to talk to you on the phone. It was even more surreal to say this to my family:

I have to turn on the ringer on my phone; I’m waiting for a call from Rick Springfield.

But these are the perks of being a freelance reporter.

Granted, my angle — your seething hordes of rabid female fans — is a little unusual.

You were bemused by my questions, I could tell. But I made you laugh, so that’s good.

Thanks for being gracious and humble. And a 71-year-old heartthrob who’s clearly still got it.

Why do I know this? Because I saw your fans in action at Chastain Park in Atlanta in August 2018.

This is you braving the crowd. I was impressed.

See you Friday night at the Brookhaven Cherry Blossom Block Party!

Your fan,
Beth

*Yes, I took liberties with the song.

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Dear Dominic,

Imma be real with you, Chief*:

I’ve had a great time with you this week, even though it wasn’t supposed to be just us hanging out together.

You were supposed to get off work so we could all go out of town.

But despite the fact that I told you the dates four times (🙄), you didn’t ask for time off.

So your brother and father went to Savannah without us.

That’s ok. We made the best of it.

We watched all of “Sexy Beasts” together, and were both very amused.

We went kayaking on the Chattahoochee.

We teased each other mercilessly.

Me to you after you made me wait an hour to start “Forged in Fire” with you: Let it be known that you’re the worst.
You: Oh, I know.

You even learned to ride Marta to football practice as I was working and couldn’t take you.

You even cleaned up after yourself in the kitchen and cleaned your room.

Maybe your prefrontal cortex took a developmental leap this week.

The reason doesn’t matter. The outcome does.

It’s been great. And I’m glad you sometimes enjoy spending time with your mom.

I hope to do it again soon. Maybe more “Forged in Fire” tonight?

Let me know via text (that’s your way, even when you are just in the other room).

Love,
Mama

*Dominic said this to me no fewer than three times this week.

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Dear Greg,

Thanks for your inquiry into the space I have listed on Airbnb.

I have questions:

  1. Why are you contacting me and not your wife? She has a job (clearly), so I assume she is a big girl who can plan her own trips.
  2. Will I be able to rent out the kitchen and living room for those nights as she apparently won’t be using them?
  3. Do you do this kind of thing all the time? Ask for “a better deal” where negotiation is not standard?
  4. If you buy a car, do you negotiate the price based on how many times you plan to drive it?
  5. What about your own house or apartment? Did you ask for a discount on the price or rent based on how many times you’ll use the whole house?

Sorry, Greg, but your request is ridiculous to me. The site is Airbnb not Airb. And I’m going to be a B and say NO!*

I’m still going to have to get it ready and clean it when she leaves. The price is comparable to other places and much cheaper than a hotel.

You and your wife can take it or leave it.

Sincerely,
Beth

*Credit to my cousin Ellen for that gem.

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Dear Chandler, Joey, Monica, Phoebe, Rachel and Ross,

We’ve been together for more than 25 years. I know some people don’t like you, but I do. (Yes, I know some parts of your lives are problematic.)

It took me a while to start hanging out with you. But after Episode 6 of Season 1 (“The One with the Butt”) in Fall 1994, I couldn’t ignore you any longer. We have my friend Heidi to thank.

Heidi: Do you watch “FRIENDS?”
Me: No. Should I?
Heidi: Yes. You are Monica. Monica is you.

That is the episode with the shoes.

Heidi isn’t the only one who has made the connection over the years.

In my defense, I lived with a complete pig my first year of college. She was the kind of person who would spill milk and just leave it. She wore my clothes, got beer all over them, and put them back in the closet.

Shudder.

The worse she got, the more I cleaned. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I don’t like to clean, though. I just hate clutter. If everything is put away, it doesn’t LOOK dirty.

But I digress.

Artifacts from your lives arrived in Atlanta, so I had to go see them. I took the family. I’m definitely the biggest fan in the group as I met you when I was at the same stage in my life as you.

And yes, I do see myself in Monica. I also like to cook.

Anyway, thanks for the memories.

Your friend,
Regina Phalange Beth

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Dear 36-hour Tina,

Thank you for always choosing time with me as your birthday present. I can assure you that I love the annual family trip to Cape Cod for the Fourth of July.

This year was rough for everyone. We ALL needed the long weekend.

I haven’t laughed so much in a while.

It started on the way there.

The airline staff made the announcement about early boarding for parents traveling with children in car seats.

Me to Dominic: What if you were your size, but you still had to sit in a car 
seat?
Dominic: (Snorts)
Me: Safety first!
Dominic: His bones are brittle!

We got there expecting nice weather so we could hang out on the beach. I don’t know why. Even a cursory glance at the forecast would have told me to expect indoor activities. And I’m a meteorologist! Yes, I’m suitably embarrassed. Like I said, I packed aspirationally, not realistically.

Thankfully, you had Cards Against Humanity, Family Version.

It started with this:

What killed Old Joe? 
Stuff.

Continued with these:

Soon, you were laughing as hard as I was.

And don’t forget the saga of the stick wine (aka Baboon Wine). (I still don’t remember how that name came to be. It’s because I had too much of the stick wine, I know.)

And wearing a “comfy” for an evening stumble walk on the beach.

I enjoyed all of it.

It was great to see you and hang out with Matt and the kids. I’m totally cool with Elsa and Gideon getting married. 🙂

Hope to see you in March!

Love,
LaBethya

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