Don’t F With My Q

4 Jun

I love when the dogs go all apeshit at the mail delivery person when I’m asleep ten feet from the front door. I jump up thinking it’s the end of the world. Freaking Armageddon. And I’m not talking about that crappy Affleck/Willis movie. Then I think “End of the world? Silly me, that’s not happening until four days before Christmas.” (Looks like I won’t be Christmas shopping this year.)

Anyway, the dogs literally try to eat through glass to get to the guy (I’m annoyed right now because I don’t know what to call the postal employee. Can I say “mailman” or is that sexist? But it’s actually a MAN! Shit this parenthetical is too long.) putting trash into the black box tacked to the outside wall. Seriously, I thought the USPS was closing up this month or something.

If not for the embarrassingly annoying dogs, I’d invite the mail carrier in, lead him to our recycling bin, point at it and say “Here is where I put everything you bring. Every day.” But that would be mean. And I’m totally not mean.

Seriously though, I do everything online. I pay bills online. I get cool coupons online. Okay, I forgot we still get Netflix movies through the mail, but I can easily give that up and go all-streaming, all the time. That would put an end to queue hijacking. That’s what I call it when my daughter promotes movies like Mulan 7 to the top of the queue.

It goes something like this.

Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Ten minutes of just . . . barking.

Me: “YES! The mail guy finally brought something useful.”

I wait until he’s out of sight and then I open the door.

Now I’m excited. I rip into the red and white envelope expecting Fight Club or The Godfather: Part II only to find some horribly obscure made-for-video cartoon that’s playing THIS VERY SECOND on The LAME Channel.

For the love of GOD, don’t F with my Q!!

Editor’s Note: This post was created in 20 minutes and was not thoroughly proofed for errors.



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