an open letter to the fight director

Hey man. Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to read this. I assume that you are busy, since you've only made 2 out of our 20 rehearsals, and we've been fighting every day.

I know that you're good at your job, since you've got such a long resume, but I wanted to give you a couple of pointers. I mean, it's always good to be a lifelong learner, right?

First, if you're going to miss most of the rehearsals, it's probably a good idea to work with the fighters alone first, rather than in front of the entire cast. That way, when you give your 20 simultaneous contradictory notes, it won't be so embarrassing. And, since I'm on the subject, maybe you don't want to give notes that contradict each other. Just a suggestion.

Most importantly, remember that a "fight director" is very different from a "casting director" or a "director". So when you tell an actor that "the best way to make sure that you're never hired again by a fight director is to say what you just said", you should probably know that the actor knows that (a) you don't have the power to hire/fire anyone, (b) you should stop twisting around his words, and (c) everyone knows that you have a small dick.

Thanks for all of your hard work!

Sincerely,

The Rover

an open letter to my ex-classmate

partially written at the temp job

Hey, man, how are things? Hear you're doing some great stuff - a show that may be moving to Broadway, huh? Awesome. So glad your career is working out well.

(awkward silence)

Listen, dude, I know we don't talk a lot - we're both really busy and all, but I wanted to take a break from flattering you to bring something to your attention. See, you're on Facebook, which is great, and I'm on Facebook, which is also cool, but I wanted to remind you that my Facebook page is NOT to be used as your personal dating service.

No, I'm not kidding.

Yes, I'm serious.

See, every time you use your skeevy creepy moves on one of my friends - most of whom you've never met - they call or text or e-mail me. And then I have to explain all about your playa-istic, baller-ific ways, which is a little awkward. And I'd rather not be put in that position. It's been three times in the past month. Don't you think that's a little excessive?

Oh yeah, and you know the one girl that you keep threatening, you know, to "ruin her career", saying things like, "I know your teachers," and stuff like that? Well, here's a free piece of advice - actually, two. First of all, you're not important enough to ruin anyone's career - except, maybe, your own. Secondly, wouldn't it be a lot worse for you if people knew you were saying these things to a nineteen year old? I mean, that's just kind of gross, for a thirty-one year old MAN to be pushing up on a nineteen year old GIRL. She led you on? Seriously? She's a teenager - isn't that what teenagers are supposed to do? Because they don't know what they're doing yet? I'm just saying, man.

Sorry for the excessive use of italics, but I just wanted to make sure that my point was getting across. Good luck with your show!

Sincerely,

The Rover

a note to my liver

Dear Liver,

Hey man, how's it going? How are things with the pancreas - you two still kickin' it, spending some quality time together? That's great, man, really great.

(awkward silence)

Listen, dude, I really owe you an apology. You've done a lot of great work for The Rover over the years, really going above and beyond the call of duty on several occasions. I mean, January '95 was amazing, you know, and how you dealt with November and December '03...well, they'll be talking about that for years. Decades, even.

But the work you did in the last twenty-four hours, well...wow. Wow. That's really all I can say. Quite frankly, we overworked you. A lot. I mean, six bourbons, six margaritas, three beers and a screwdriver is a heavy load until normal circumstances. But to do that at altitude, where the blood is thinner... But you kept us going man. I don't know how you did it, but we didn't miss a beat. And you didn't go the puke route, no serious effects the day after... I just have to tip my cap, man. Really. You deserve a raise. Or at least a vacation. Which you're not getting, by the way, until Sunday at the earliest. We have a party to go to tonight.

So, you know, I know you take a lot of abuse (and not just from the stomach, ha ha), but the rest of the body really appreciates what you do. So thanks, a lot.

Sincerely,

The Brain