an open letter to Ricky Martin
Dear Ricky Martin,
Yesterday I was coming home from work and I had a terrible scare. I realized that the entire day yesterday I did not once hear your toe-tapping, butt-shaking, heart-pounding hit “Livin’ La Vida Loca.” How could that be possible? There’s no way that your song could ever stop playing on the radio: it’s too good. I think you’re better than Britney Spears and N’Sync in one body.
Oh, and your body! I’m blushing too much to go any further about that. I only have two words to say about your body: “Thank you.”
I don’t want you to think that I am writing this letter as any sort of crazed stalker fan. On the contrary, I happen to have a boyfriend, and I love him very much. I don’t love him in a Ricky Martin sort of way (that is only reserved for you, dear Ricky) but I love him in a way that I could never love you. I hope you’re not too upset. It’s just that when I talk to him, he talks back, and that makes a deeper sort of love. (But not like the Ricky Martin kind of love, which I’ve already explained to you….)
Anyway, I thought you’d find it interesting how many things you have in common with my boyfriend:
YOUR NAME: Enrique Martin Morales
HIS NAME: Eric John Peterson
(Really, he’s just a Q away.)
YOU’RE BETTER KNOWN AS: Ricky Martin
HE’S BETTER KNOWN AS: Money.
(And I’m pretty sure that now you’re making number one hits, some of your friends call you Money.)
YOUR D.O.B: December 24 1971
HIS D.O.B.: June 19, 1971
Okay, that part is a little freaky, don’t you think? I mean, you guys are THE SAME AGE! Oh, my God.
YOUR PLACE OF BIRTH: Hato Rey, Puerto Rico
HIS PLACE OF BIRTH: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Both cities are a long plane ride from where I live.
YOUR ZODIAC SIGN: Capricorn (Earth sign)
HIS ZODIAC SIGN: Gemini (Air sign)
I’m an Aries, so I’m really compatible with the Gemini, and not the Capricorn. I guess that’s why Eric snatched me up before you did, Ricky! Your loss! (But I still have the Ricky Martin love for you)
YOUR HEIGHT: 6’1
HIS HEIGHT: 6’2
Does this make you jealous, Ricky? He’s taller than you are. That’s another inch of studly man power. (But not like the studly Ricky Martin man power. It’s a different, kind of Polish man power. You’d know it if you saw it)…
YOUR EYE COLOR: Dark Chocolate Ricky Martin Brown
HIS EYE COLOR: Money Green
Okay, the eyes are a tie here. You both have great eyes. Really.
YOUR HAIR COLOR: Light Chocolate Ricky Martin Brown
HIS HAIR COLOR: Light Chocolate Eric Peterson Brown
It may not have the same ring, but if you close your eyes and run your fingers through it just right, you hardly notice a difference.
YOUR FAMILY: MOTHER– NEREIDA MORALES,
FATHER– ENRIQUE MARTIN NEGRONI, ERIC, DANIEL
Oh, my gosh! You have a brother named Eric! This is so amazing! See how freaky this whole connection is? The weirdest part? Eric’s little brother’s name is Enrique. Enrique Charles Peterson.
YOUR FAVE ACTOR: Robert DeNiro
HIS FAVE ACTOR: Eric Peterson
I think, if you saw some of my boyfriend’s work, you’d change your mind about your favorite actor. Really.
YOUR FAVE DESIGNER:Georgeo Armani
HIS FAVE DESIGNER: Gap
It’s all about the style, baby. Your khakis may cost more, but it’s what you can see outlined inside that counts.
YOUR FAVE SONG: Fragile (Sting)
HIS FAVE SONG: Tupelo Honey (Van Morrison)
Both are made for slow dancing, and that’s okay with me.
YOUR BEST QUALITY: Sincerity
HIS BEST QUALITY: Sense of humor.
YOUR WORST QUALITY: SINCERITY
Oh, my gosh, that’s so funny! That’s such a great joke, Ricky! Cuz it’s like, your best quality is sincerity because that’s a good quality and all, but then your worst quality is sincerity because it can get you into so much trouble! Oh, man! I’m still laughing! Hold on while I wipe my tears. Oh, man. Funny. Fuh-knee. Ricky Martin you make me laugh like no other.
What was I talking about?
YOUR WORST FEAR: Snakes
HIS WORST FEAR: Snakes
If there was ever a time (and I’m sure somehow this could happen), that the three of us would be trapped in a room and someone released a snake, I vow right here and now to protect the two of you from the snake. I can just see the two of you cowering together in a corner while I make sure the snake stays away…. yeah, I can see you two huddled together… your chocolate brown hair mingling together… the nervous sweat from your brows touching…. I’ll protect you two from snakes. I promise.
Sorry, I got off the point of this entire letter. In any event, I was writing to let you know that I’m pretty sure that you are a star with staying power. After all, you’ve been doing this since you were in grade school. Eric’s been performing since then, too. He was in “Will the Real Abraham Lincoln Please Stand Up?” See? He’s a performer, too.
I’ve enclosed some pictures of yourself in this letter. It’s not that I was worried you’d forget what you look like, but rather I figured you’d like to look at some more pictures of yourself.
Oh, yeah, and the point of this letter! Geez, get me started talking about you and it takes forever for me to get to the point. My friends are all like, “Blah, blah, blah, Ricky Martin, Pam. We get it. Now order your lunch!” Ha! You know, I can’t help it. Ha! Anyway, so yesterday I was all nervous because I didn’t hear your wonderful song on the radio all day long and that hasn’t happened EVER so I was worried about your hit and your career and if you were going to have to fight adversity again.
But never to fear– this morning, on my way to work, it was playing on two different radio stations AT THE SAME TIME! I was switching back and forth between the stations like Fatboy Slim.
Thank you, Ricky Martin, for being the wonderful talented person that you are. Even though you are not my boyfriend, and I don’t love you like I do him, I hope you understand and forgive me, and remember the special Ricky Martin kind of love that I have for you.
(This is not to be confused with the special Johnny Depp kind of love I have, either, in case you know him and he sees this letter. My Johnny Depp kind of love is different as well.) See, there’s this thing called the Love Calculator, and I already compared my scores between you, Eric and Johnny Depp. Yeah, that says 98% between me and Johnny Depp.
Ricky, let me explain Johnny Depp love to you. With a 98% rating, you don’t ever have to even meet. We are just in love. Right now, we’re in love. He doesn’t know what I look like, but he loves me. He can’t help it. We’ve got a 98% rating. Now, me and Eric are at a very comfortable 85%. There’s no worrying there. We are in love. But it’s the kind of love where you have to see each other, maybe talk to one another, do things together. Basically we have to work on it a little by spending time together or there’s a chance we’d forget the other one existed. Not so with Johnny Depp. I don’t have to meet him. We don’t have to ever go on a date. We are just in love on a spiritual plane. I’m comfortable with that.
However, I’m not so comfortable about our score, Ricky Martin. We only got 13%. I’ll stick with Eric. I may have to see him once in a while (which I why I moved in with him) but it’s sort of worth it because I know it’ll work out. With you there’d be all this jealousy and fights and vicious passionate arguments where we threw pillows and clothes and expensive looking vases at each other while our faces turned red from passion and anger and we’d be so frustrated with each other that we’d end up just hurling our bodies at each other in passion and frustration and we’d make mad passionate love on your heart shaped satin sheet bed but we wouldn’t really respect ourselves. We’d just be doing it because it was the only thing that made sense in our crazy 13% world. We wouldn’t know what we were doing or why, but we’d just act on instinct, like animals, and I’d have to become taller and make my legs longer so they can kick out of a high slit skirt just the way you like them. You’d have to… okay, well, you wouldn’t have to change very much, on account of the Ricky Martin love and all, but we wouldn’t be truly happy.
Anyway, to make a long story short: didn’t hear your song yesterday– was worried. Heard it twice this morning in the same minute– all is back to normal.
Take care of your Ricky Martin ass.
(who is currently taken by her 85 percenter. Sorry!)