Dear besties,
I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written. I had a nasty incident with graphite pencil earlier last week and have been unable to think of anything clever since. But now I’m back, more cleverer than ever!
Lots has happened since I last wrote. I went to a crazy person’s house. Then I went to another crazy person’s house. Then my car got towed. Then I wheeled my friend around in a wheelchair. Then I took my dog to the vet because of a kinked tail. Then I fed some horses. Then I fell on the ice. Then I fell on more ice. Then I tore my apartment apart trying to find a clean pair of underwear. Then I drank a lot of tea. Then I ate too much cabbage. Then I got the gas. So as you can see, I’ve been really busy.
But that’s no excuse. The news doesn’t stop, so why should I? I am clearly weak. But I pledge to be better. I’m going to start doing hand exercises so my fingers don’t get so fatigued when I’m typing. Anyway, that’s not really what I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you that I’m pretty pee-ohhed at Beyonce. Yeah, that Beyonce. Not your coworker named Beyonce or your neighbor’s cat, Beyonce. The famous Beyonce. It’s because of her that I’m going to have to take out a second mortgage on my imaginary house in order to afford maple syrup. Uh, thanks Beyonce. Thanks for thinking of the little people.
I’d like to share with you a letter I wrote her after this disturbing bit of information came to light.
This is Beyonce wearing a bikini she borrowed from me last year.
This is Beyonce ruining my life.
This is my future home.
Dearest Beyonce Giselle Knowles,
I have a bone to pick with you. Perhaps that’s not the nicest way to open a letter to someone as fameuse as yourself. No doubt you’re not used to being addressed in such a way. Well, I’m not used to paying more for maple syup than I do for my make-believe single malts. Apparently, I have you to thank for this.
In a recent Bloomberg article charting the dramatic increase in the cost of maple syrup this year, you were cited as the main reason for the spike. Apparently in order to lose some ellbees for your role as second fiddle in the 2006 movie “Dreamgirls,” you told people you were on a “maple syrup diet.” And apparently you dropped a whopping 14 lbs by ” consuming only lemon-and-maple-flavored water for about two weeks,” according to Bloomberg Sounds tasty. So you see, your cleanse/starvation diet three years ago has had a ripple effect in the maple syrup industry (things take a while to reach Vermont, hence the three-year lag).
I’m glad you shed some weight and belted some songs, but now my maple syrup is going to cost me $70 a gallon. And because I’m not a mono-named superstar with a fanny that won’t stop married to grandpa Jay-Z, aka Jiggaman, aka Hova, aka S-Dot, I can’t exactly afford that. I mean, if you were willing to upgrade me, say, so that I could flash an Audemars Piguet timepiece or an Hermes briefcase or some VVS bling, then paying $70 a gallon for maple syrup wouldn’t be such a big deal. But since you and I aren’t exactly on those terms yet, I’m lucky if I can afford Aunt Jemima. You don’t want me pouring Aunt Jemima on my pancakes, do you? You wouldn’t cleanse with Mrs. Benjamin’s, would you?
Listen, B, I like you. I really do. I love that you totally paid homage to Bob Fosse in your “Single Girls” video. I think it’s amazing that you can run up a wall in heels. It’s equally impressive that you’re able to rep your family’s House of Dereon denim company in every single song you sing. Really, who’s your lyricist? Fantastic. And the fact that you’ve inspired a legion of gay boys to bust out their videocameras and film themselves dancing to your “Single Girls” video in front of the full-length mirror in their mom’s bedroom is priceless.
You’ve done a lot for people already, B.K. But we Vermonters, who use maple syrup for everything including cooking, bathing, annoiting the sick and running our cars, we need you to help us out. Tell the world the maple syrup diet is no more affective than say, the cabbage soup diet or the Hollywood juice diet. That will drive the prices back down to a reasonable level so that poor saddos like me can afford it. You will be known as a saint in Vermont (well, except by the farmers who were peeing in their Carrharts about the liquid gold streaming from their trees). Your status will be even more exalted than Samuel de… um, you know. That guy. Anyway, thanks in advance for your help.
Your best friend forever and sister in fierceness,
Lauren “Micha Fierce” Ober
She hasn’t responded yet, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed that her people will call my people and we’ll all get liquored up on maple syrup cocktails.
