Dear Congress and Aquaman

This might be a lot of reading, but I believe in you!  Much more than I believe in myself.




Oh, you guys are just the best.  There is nothing like taking a break from hours of mind-numbing homework to learn that you were very close to being the cause of unplanned urination.

“I almost peed when I read your latest blog.” -Tabbatha Renea Maria Plomaritas

So once again I will be presenting an award since this is my favorite comment of the week.

I need to clarify that I did not spell “a lot” as “alot.” It is just smashed together.  I also found something new that I am awesome at drawing besides bald eagles and stars: a swirly.

I’m sorry that is has been so long between posts, but school is making it so when people ask me how I am, I just kind of grunt at them teaching me valuable life lessons.  Right now I should be writing a research paper about the BP oil spill.  I’m having to resist the urge to write about how Kevin Costner created a real-life Chitty Chitty Bang Bang that would clean all the oil while all of America sang a rousing rendition of “Toot Sweets,” but I have a feeling that my idea would be stupid brilliant not taken well. I also thought it would be hilarious important write about why Aquaman hasn’t done a blasted thing to save the turtles and also maybe why hippies haven’t sacrificed their bodies by using themselves to plug the leak.  Where are my dedicated hippies!?  Chugging soy milk and selling me water in paper cartons isn’t really helping any of us now, is it?

I’m going to write a letter to Aquaman.  And maybe Congress. Then I will hand in the letters I’ve written instead of my paper to my professor, and once again she will tell me to go sit in the hall, but that I can always come back inside if I calm down.

I just called Ryan.  To tell him that I was writing a letter to Aquaman.

Me: “So I am writing a letter to Aquaman.”
Ryan: “Okay.”
Me: “But I looked him up, and he’s like, really lame.  I don’t know how he could help with the oil spill.”
Ryan: “He could plug it with his butt.”

He doesn’t question me AND he provides an even dumber idea than I had????  I definitely married the right dude.

LETTERS
This is my letter to Congress:

Dear Congressmen (and women.  You all look very nice in your pant-suits today!),

I figured that is it my duty as an ignorant 20-something year old American to tell you what to do about this whole oil spill thingy we got goin’ on.  My very educated suggestions come from the advertising on facebook years of research.  I have come to learn that the spill has essentially been stopped.

However, I drink soy milk.

Whitney=Soy milk
Soy milk=Hippies/Lactose Intolerance/Lactose Intolerant Hippies
Hippies=Overly concerned about nature, but not so much about how they smell

By the transitive property:

Whitney=Overly concerned about nature, but not so much about how I smell.

So merely stopping the leak is not enough to please me or the cows that now have uncomfortably large udders because of me not drinking their milk.

Congress, I, a very concerned citizen, suggest that you use the bat signal assign your finest biologists the task of finding Aquaman and making him clean to oil spill.  If you’re not willing to find him yourself, I simply need a resurrected Sam Quint, and I also need a boat.  And sequins.

Obviously the best citizen,
Whitney

PS What’s Tina Fey’s address?
PPS I read yesterday that Sarah Palin got to add a word to the dictionary.  “Refudiate?”  I’d like you to refudiate her refudation and have you add my word into the dictionary.  I’d like it to be: “hicktanglo.”  If you have “hicktangloed,” then you have tied up a cowboy with his own lasso.  Thanks.

LETTER
This is my letter to Aquaman:

To whom is may concern (That’s you, Aquaman),

Earlier, I wrote this letter to you on paper, but when I went to mail it to you, via the ocean, the paper disintegrated because, Aquaman, I am an idiot.  I hope you can accept messages etched by my teeth on a slab of rock because this is the best that I can do. Don’t get picky now, Aquaman.

If you weren’t already aware, billions of gallons of oil have been leaking into your ocean over the past seven months or so.  Since you have not responded, I can only assume that you are dead and my two front teeth that are now ground down into tiny stumps from carving this message have been wasted.  Aquaman, please send me two replacement teeth.  Shark teeth are preferable.

My husband suggests that you get off of your butt and then use it to plug the oil leak, but don’t listen to him because he doesn’t know what he’s talking about 1) because the leak has stopped and 2) “butt-plugging” is not one of your listed powers. I, on the other hand, know that you possess the power to sense the primal emotions of aquatic creatures through "The Clear."  Do I have any idea what that means?  No I don’t, Aquaman, because I just Googled you about 30 seconds ago.  However, it sounds as if you know when your fish friends are sad, and let me tell you what, Aquaman, oil makes fish really sad. They are so sad that they are dead.

I would like you to consider this a threat:  I have emailed congress asking them to resurrect Sam Quint, and the two of us are going to team up to catch you by throwing sequins into the water because from your super outfit, I can deduce that you will totally like, come to the super shiny things that will make you look fabulous.  Once you’re caught, Sam Quint, you, and I will get super drunk and compare our scars.  There may also be singing.  But the singing will be in English, Aquaman, not in dolphin.  We will probably sing “All the Singles Ladies” in three-part harmony.  You should have plenty of time to prepare.

Take care (of the oil please),

Whitney

PS I found this picture of you.  Awkward teen years, Aquaman?

Well, I think I just earned an A.

-Whitney

UPDATE:  We now have a fan page on facebook, so look us up if you'd like!