And Now, I Shall Relay All My Thoughts in Letter Form:
Dear Blockbuster,
Please do not call me in on my night off with no notice. Time and a half does not make up for the 6 hours of my life I'll never get back. Say it with me: SUNDAY IS VJ'S BLOODY DAY OFF. Thank you.
Dear Blockbuster, Part 2,
I really don't want to see you tomorrow, especially after working 3 straight weekend nights and closing the store 2 out of three. And yet, I have a 5 hour shift tommorrow night. Why did you make me work today? Why?
Dear Certain Blockbuster Employee,
Well, at least I'm now sure you're not gay. I suppose that's a plus. You are, however, making my life insanely more difficult, and what you said just adds whole new layers off difficult.
Dear Production Team Behind Confederate States of America,
You guys are freaking brilliant. I don't how whether to laugh, cry, be horrified, or move to Canada. The most original concept I've seen in a long time. I tip my non-existent hat to you.
Dear Ben,
Rent Confederate States of America. And move back to the East Coast, asshole.
Dear Songs for a New World cast,
You guys kick ass in all possible ways. Thank you for, once again, making me cry, and for allowing those around me the enjoyment of mocking me incessantly for crying.
Dear Alexander Payne,
Thanks to the magic of IMDB, I've discovered that you not only wrote scipts for soft-scorn porn before you made it big, you also penned the script for Jurassic Park 3. This knowledge brings me tremendous amounts of glee.
Dear Christopher Walken,
You are the shit in Around the Bend. It is that simple.
Dear Everyone Who's Actually Still Reading This Entry By This Point,
PLEASE come visit Blockbuster Monday night from 5-10. If Monday night is anything like it usually is, by 5:30 I'll be so bored I want to eat my arm. Please come visit me? Please?
Please do not call me in on my night off with no notice. Time and a half does not make up for the 6 hours of my life I'll never get back. Say it with me: SUNDAY IS VJ'S BLOODY DAY OFF. Thank you.
Dear Blockbuster, Part 2,
I really don't want to see you tomorrow, especially after working 3 straight weekend nights and closing the store 2 out of three. And yet, I have a 5 hour shift tommorrow night. Why did you make me work today? Why?
Dear Certain Blockbuster Employee,
Well, at least I'm now sure you're not gay. I suppose that's a plus. You are, however, making my life insanely more difficult, and what you said just adds whole new layers off difficult.
Dear Production Team Behind Confederate States of America,
You guys are freaking brilliant. I don't how whether to laugh, cry, be horrified, or move to Canada. The most original concept I've seen in a long time. I tip my non-existent hat to you.
Dear Ben,
Rent Confederate States of America. And move back to the East Coast, asshole.
Dear Songs for a New World cast,
You guys kick ass in all possible ways. Thank you for, once again, making me cry, and for allowing those around me the enjoyment of mocking me incessantly for crying.
Dear Alexander Payne,
Thanks to the magic of IMDB, I've discovered that you not only wrote scipts for soft-scorn porn before you made it big, you also penned the script for Jurassic Park 3. This knowledge brings me tremendous amounts of glee.
Dear Christopher Walken,
You are the shit in Around the Bend. It is that simple.
Dear Everyone Who's Actually Still Reading This Entry By This Point,
PLEASE come visit Blockbuster Monday night from 5-10. If Monday night is anything like it usually is, by 5:30 I'll be so bored I want to eat my arm. Please come visit me? Please?