What the crap! Come on Mailman or woman pick up my dam Netflix. I put them right in the mail slot for you to pick up. For Christ sakes, they're at elbow level just extend your arm. When I come home I f!#%$ing freak out about that shit I cracked my laptop when I threw down my bag. It's like what the f!@#! Now you owe me for wasting money on movies I'm not getting AND for a laptop.This hasn't happened since that women Mailman had that nervous fit because she was afraid she was going to get rapped on my street. Would a rapist subscribe to Netflix? It's not like they've got porn or whatever ( just that weak stuff that tries to be funny but it's not and they have plots and stuff and lots of chi-chies but no, you know, real junk.) But it's pissing me off when all day I'm thinking about getting out of this desk job and coming home to my Universal Soldier: The Judgment on Wednesday. But I come home to those Netflix envelopes sticking out of the mail box like a tung, MOCKING ME. Now I'm not going to be able to watch Van Dame's return to the cyborg story line until Thursday. Dam it, pick up my Netflix! It's already Tuesday.
-J. Marshal
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