Read the fine print, Sarah B.

Finally heard back from a publishing company! "Dear Ms Bertrand, We thank you for your submission, but as we are solely a Christian children's literature publishing company, we don't think we are the right venue for you. Best of luck." That's what I get for sending out emails at two am while hopped up on Red Bull.

My letter to McDonald's

Dear McDonald's,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 28 year old sweets enthusiast who enjoys robots, hearing about other people's vacations, and dessert.

Today I came into contact with your non toy option in the Happy Meal; the cookie. A co-worker of mine was feeling peckish and didn't feel as though she was capable of finishing a regular combo in your adult menu, so she decided on the children's selection. After I publicly berated her for not choosing the toy option, she then offered me one of your lemony snacks. I forgot how delicious they were! As I carefully plucked treat after treat from the tiny bag of nostalgia, in what must have appeared to be a greed trance, I slowed down for a second. To catch my breath? Maybe. To dream a dream? No, that's very unrealistic. Mostly it was to choke down the mound of crumbs and sugar that had congealed in the walls of my throat. But it was also to find a napkin to dab my eyes (you know when you eat so fast and you take a break and everything hurts and you just have to let it pass? I know you do, McDonald. That happens to probably everyone ever that's ever eaten at your fine dining establishment). Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. I will skip ahead. Cookies were gone... I wonder if my co-worker wanted any? I guess I'll never know. But when I dumped the remaining snacks over the counter, to actually see what I was ingesting, I was shocked. Nay, appalled and confused. The array of faces that stared back at me with their judging eyes is a vision that will stick with me for years to come. Perhaps forever. And perhaps again until tomorrow. We will never know. Well I guess I'll know. Please don't remind me, because if I forget and someone's like, Hey remember those weirdo cookies? I'll be like, Seriously?! I totally just forgot about that. And now I remember! Guh!

I am getting sidetracked. The moral of this tale, McDonald's, is that the dessert you offer is terrifying. Everyone from Ronald, The Hamburglar, those creepy Muppet thingies with the yarn, that chicken girl and Grimace; they have all been immortalized in catastrophic cookies that I am sure are responsible for tens of nightmares and uneasy thoughts. Ronald McDonald looks like a predator. Always. You must know this. I'm sure he's a nice guy, but the cookie literally looks like you went through a mug shot book at a police station, chose the scariest guy and then said, See this gentleman? Make Ronald's cookie a messed up version of that. The Hamburglar is a thief. No one will contest that. It's essentially in his name. Failing someone misses the pun there, his outfit is that of a felon. He steals. Hey kids! Eat this fun treat! Enjoy it so hard you won't feel me slip your coin purse out of your pocket! I'm lovin' it! (That is your slogan.) The Muppets look like dirty mop street kids with a real chip on their shoulder. A chip, and a taste for blood. The chicken girl never made sense to me. Were those her nuggets? What's her deal? It's like she was a character you thought would be great and then introduced her and were like, Oh man, Chicken Girl? Where the hell's that gonna go? She looks like a jerk, let's scrap this. We've had how many bibs and action figures already made?? Oh God. Okay. Leave her kinda lingering around the background til we can phase her out. Like that rude party guest that doesn't get when they're the last person there, and you're yawning and it's like one am and you have to work in the morning and they're like, Do you have PS3? Grimace is like a tragic Eeyore. Only he's not cute, and if you saw a stuffed Grimace ever it'd only be at a garage sale for a quarter. And it'd have bed bugs. And you'd hate it.

Although I do have many issues with the bag of cookies that rests happily in my gut, I see where you're going with this theme, so I thought I'd help you out. Here are some things I believe could be depicted in your cookies, that summon the same emotions as the visuals from your current designs:
- a child crying
- a preteen finding the gun cabinet unlocked
- santa smoking
- a teddy bear... being abducted
- a dove being shot
- sparkles... really irritating someone's contact lenses
- a mother finding her child's really weird porn
- and last but not least, diabetes.
I hope you have found my suggestions helpful and necessary. I look forward to hearing from you immediately.


Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand

Now available!

The Best Of Inapark Productions! Either on amazon.com, or by emailing me at sarahbertrand13@yahoo.com

My letter to Coors Light

Dear Coors Light Brewing Company,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 28 year old beer enthusiast who enjoys dry socks, meer cats, and your brand of beer. I have been enjoying Coors Light since I was of legal age of consumption, and my brother and I have even been to your Mystery Mansion. It was no "mystery" Coors Light... it was a blast!

Although I'm merely a fan of your company, I believe that I possess some innovative ideas that you'll undoubtedly find useful, and hopefully even inspiring. Recently, cigarette smoking companies have developed an extremely aggressive approach with their ads. The new ads are visually shocking. This is of course being done as a more "in your face" method of communicating the dangers of smoking, and the devastation that can occur with prolonged use. In this day and age, it's obvious that people respond much more to visuals than anything else. As a longtime beer enthusiast, I've decided to offer you some suggestions for any upcoming campaigns you may be planning, so you can maintain a concern for awareness just as much as the next guy. Obviously this is in no way to imply there are negative stigmas of your brand. This is merely a precaution to remind people to consume your delicious beverage in a reasonable manner.

Here are just a few examples you can feel free to use: A picture of a person vomiting into a plant in a club. Although this is an extremely specific situation, I think you'd be shocked at how often it occurs. Someone standing outside a bar with no jacket on after being kicked out. How often have we slipped past this person, pretending to be checking an important text so we didn't have to make eye contact? A girl crying because she lost her purse; meanwhile, the purse is safely attached to her wrist. This is something I believe we have all witnessed, or maybe even have experienced ourselves. Two girls instinctively kissing, while their friends are waiting, furious and embarrassed. Someone huddled in a bathroom after making a drunk phone call to an ex, weeping incoherently. A sorority jock waking up next to a beast. And, last but certainly not least, two best friends fist fighting.

I thank you for your time, and I hope that you enjoy my forward thinking, bold marketing ideas.

Sincerely, Sarah Bertrand

My letter The Bachelor

Dear CityTV,

Hello. My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am an impressionable 28 year old breakfast enthusiast/ retail worker who enjoys petting kittens, unitards, and a tasty omelette.

The purpose of me contacting you is to offer you the chance of a lifetime. For I, Sarah C Bertrand, to be the star contestant in your hit reality tv show, The Bachelor.

People tune in for one reason, and one reason only; because they are hopeless romantics. Also, because every season is full of emotionally unstable, dishonest, catty, dangerous, and embarrassing women. However, well all know that these same women are the reason that people will be interested in watching week to week. The dramatic lunatics, the women who lack shame, morals, and the overlooked wallflowers that have garnered the pity votes. I feel no shame in letting you in on a little secret, City. Come close, so I can whisper it in your ear; I will be that guy for you.

I will be a chameleon. A saboteur. A promiscuous, religious fanatical thief. I'll create a scandal. I'll adapt to any and every situation. No one's paying attention to me around a campfire? I'm a fire dancer. Conversations lacking by the pool? I'm a skinny dipper. I don't receive a rose at the ceremony? I'm a florist. Brought my own roses. Don't need yours. Try and force me in the cab now, Prince Charming. Doctor Jekyll, Mr. Hyde... which one do you want? Doesn't matter, because you'll have both. I'll sporadically try out new laughs, I'll stand the opposite way as everyone else is in an elevator. When things are not going my way, I'll cry. But I'll never tell why. I'll stop taking birth control, I'll have a catch phrase. I'll create elaborate, outlandish webs of lies, and whenever anyone confronts me, I'll say "I saw it with my own eyes." I'll bring an animal; a weird one, like a hedgehog. I'll carry a sword, I'll write a song and play the guitar to it. It will have lyrics that are mysterious and inspiring. I'll say, "This is the perfect place to fall in love", every five minutes, like clockwork. I will never, ever stop drinking. And I'll dance drunk, right into the hot tub, fully clothed. And when I regain consciousness, I'll tell my Bachelor that I'm insecure and will need reassurance that I'm there for another week. I'll giggle and flirt. I'll have a nipple slip. I will literally come onto every Bachelorette there is, until I can no longer explain my actions and have to succumb to a dramatic intervention with anxiety riddled music. I'll make sure I give deliberate hints that I'm there to further my career in something cliche, and I'll say things to my future gentleman suitor like, "You look so beautiful. When you sleep." I will create perfect moments for commercial breaks, and the biggest shocker of all?! I'm a lesbian. When you see me it won't be shocking, but can you imagine the ratings?!

I thank you for your time, City TV, and look forward to being on your show and getting famous with you. I never miss a season of The Bachelor/ The Bachelorette. And I can't wait to be on a billboard.

Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand

My letter to Quaker Oatmeal To Go bars

Dear Oatmeal to Go Bars,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 27 year old breakfast enthusiast who enjoys practicality, the color neon , and children who's hair have been fashioned into a rat tail.

Last week I was hungry. It was early morning, and I knew I wasn't going to have time to feast on a lavish breakfast before I had to leave for work. Since I had about three minutes to get out of bed, get ready and get out the door, I thought to myself, Sarah Bertrand. What's something you can press down your throat like a pelican full of shame as you drag your disheveled unshowered self to the bus stop? Oatmeal to Go Bar! I frantically ripped the unopened box of bars out of my cupboard, tore into it, and peered inside. I was confused and horrified, Quaker. Allow me to set the scene: There was one bar that was already opened! Who opened my Oatmeal to Go Bar! Was it a mouse? Was it an unsatisfied Quaker prankster? Was it YOU?! Who! Obviously I discarded the aforementioned Oatmeal To OH NO Bar, and rifled through to see if there was anymore trickery my trembling hungry fingers might discover. There was not, so I selected a granola snack, and ran out the door.

As I was skeetering to the bus stop, I tore into my Oatmeal to Go bar, and was instantly greeted with the vile taste of disappointment, anxiety, a hint of oatmeal, and virtually no cinnamin. It's almost as if the cinnamin was tipped off at what was to be in store for him if he chose to remain an ingredient in a sub par batch of madness. I don't blame him for not wanting to waste his talents.

I'd also like to thank the diligent employee or rabid animal that you employed to eliminate the frustrating, time consuming chore of unwrapping my own breakfast selection.

Sidenote: On the list of ingredients, I noticed, "tree nuts" being included. What is a tree nut? An acorn? Are these being taken away from squirrels? Because I work at a pet store, and I do not support animal neglect.

My breakfast experience was compromised, Quaker, and I would appreciate a letter of apology, a new box of Quaker Oats and Honey bars, and a letter of apology to my mother, Joan Bertrand, who purchased the normally delicious treat for me. When she asked me how my granola bars were, all I could do was inhale deeply, look up at the sun, fight back the tears, and say, I love you mom. And that's all the breakfast I need.

I thank you for your time, and look forward to a prompt response.

Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand

My letter to Red Bull

Dear Red Bull,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 27 year old aspiring ventriloquist who enjoys Tylenol, excess energy, and crew neck t shirts.

I am a long time enjoyer of your delicious beverage, Red Bull. I work several jobs, and when fatigue seeps in, I say, No thank you natural reaction to sleep deprivation! I need me some sweet bull nectar! (slang term I coined for Red Bull) It is efficient, delicious, and I can only assume really healthy.

I drink so much of your mystic potion that I have decided to give back. To you! I have several presumably lucrative ideas for your new ad campaign that I would like to share with you.

My first idea involves me, as an actress. I'll be wearing a Red Bull tshirt, and yoga pants to imply that I'm active yet relaxed. Neither of these traits will be relevant to the commercial. So, in my tshirt and yoga inspired pants, I will be holding one of your beverages, and sipping it, as a fancy text appears underneath the screen, describing the many relateable stages of Red Bull. First, the sudden burst of energy. Then, the excited sense of hope that this might actually get you through your day in a positive and timely manner. Then of course, last, the inevitable stage of descent, after you've had about three and are in the midst of crashing. The world seems harsher, your emotions more vivid, and tears are barely below the surface. Then, a flashy new slogan slams across the entire television screen. Instead of "Red Bull gives you wings": "Red Bull gives you the agility of an exotic cat! *fin*

If that idea doesn't tickle your fancy, how about I, Sarah Bertrand, in a cape. A flowy one. Wearing a taupe women's pantsuit, running around, and jumping. Then, the camera pans to me. I am out of breathe, but smiling. Perspiration is dripping from my forehead, and I start speaking really rapidly, almost incomprehensibly: "Knock knock. Who's there?! Red Bull! Red Bull who?? Delicious!" That doesn't make sense. However, I find confusing people makes them ask less questions, and eventually buy what you're selling, so to speak. So try this one on: "What do Red Bull and childhood obesity have in common? Nothing! Drink Red Bull!" They will feel safe, and foolish if they haven't already boarded the "bull" train. Also, inspired that they too can behave the way I am upon ingesting Red Bull.

I have a few more, and you can pick and choose which slogans will go with which commercials:

"Red Bull: Give diabetes the thrill it seeks!"
or:
"Red Bull: Gives you confidance; when partnered with vodka! (also, mild heart palpitations.)" This particular ad will have to go with a specific commercial I've been practicing for. I am in unbelievable physical shape, and have the body of a prepubescent male gymnast, so I assume I would be an excellent summersaulter. I will perform 30 in a row. I will need a unitard, some spackle, and a tamborine to perform this.

I thank you so much for your time, and look forward to hearing from your "people" regarding my immediate addition to your company. Huzzah! For Red Bull! Sweet dreams.

Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand