Up Close And Impersonals

Every two weeks, a new issue of the Improper Bostonian comes out. It's a free magazine found around the city, and more often than not, there's a picture of a celebrity with local roots on the cover, such as Eliza Dushku and Michael Chiklis. Sometimes it's interesting to see a cover and say, "Hey. Matt LeBlanc is from Newton. How about that."

But the only reason I pick one up is the Impersonals. Sure, most of the time they're ultra-sappy love letters or sad, desperate attempts by guys who might have shared a glance with a woman in front of Macy's to track them down and tell them they've got a nice ass. But once in a while you find a gem. For example, one of the first ones I remember reading was from a guy who directed his letter to his girlfriend and his best friend. He said he knew thew were screwing around behind his back and to knock it off. That's good stuff right there.

This one is from the most recent issue, with the Farrelly brothers on the cover:

Good Riddance

You wooed me with your sweet words and gestures and didn't stop until you had me. Once you roped me in, I eventually saw what you truly are--a pathetic, self-involved, hating, low-lass, lying, cheating, idiot scumbag. Sometimes I am reminded of you and I want to vomit into a box and send it to you. It makes me nearly physically ill to also think of any new girls you may set your sights upon. You exist in the filth that you create and surround yourself with. By the way, I lied, it is small, in fact, the smallest I have ever seen. Dick

- Kitten

But this one is my all time favorite, so far anyway:

Dear Mommy,

Thank you for pulling ticks off me and combing my coat all the time. And for clipping my nails and putting olive oil on my kibble and taking me to the Fells to run and swim. Thank you for not cutting off my balls. Thank you for spending so much time with me and protecting me from daddy, especially when he drinks beer. Thank you for letting me lick your feet in the morning and for kicking daddy out of bed to walk me at 6 am in sub-zero weather. Thanks for the rawhide, the bones, the stuffed-toys, the squeaky toys and all the other crap. Thanks for the lobster, the chicken, the steak, the scrambled eggs, the sugar cereal, the cannolis and all the other stuff you aren't supposed to feed me. Thank you for giving me my own TV chair and for generally letting me do whatever the hell I want. You're the best. Love,

-Hillman

I wonder if daddy made is point? Or did he end up getting his balls cut off. I hope there's a few good ones in the next issue. Less "I saw you in Kenmore Square. You, a blonde in a Johnny Damon jersey, Me, the pudgy, bald guy who tried to sell you a Yankees Suck bumper sticker." and more "This is to the jerk who dented my Chevy. When I find you, I'm gonna kick your ass while your mamma watches!" Is that too much to ask?