January 13, 2014
Our mailman is notorious for giving everyone the wrong mail. ALL THE TIME. I don’t know what the deal is with her, but she just can’t get it right. Maybe she’s bitchy about being in a job with word “man” in the title. I know she’s a woman but mailwoman just doesn’t roll off the tongue quite right, so most of us still call her our mailman.
I kinda get it.
After I got married I decided to get rid of all my hair and get a sassy little pixie cut, which I loved, until some dude called me sir, and if I hadn’t been so shocked and depressed after that I woulda done a lot more than put his mail in the wrong box. One of those things woulda been showing him my boobs, and another woulda been kicking him in the underballs.
So yes, I totally get why the mailman lady might be kinda ticked from time to time.
But maybe the woman thing isn’t the issue at all. Maybe she just hates us and thinks out catalogs and magazines are stupid, so she’s playing puppeteer and manipulating us into finding out each other’s business and creating drama for her own amusement. Maybe she has cameras hidden in our homes so she and all the other mailmen can watch their own little Truman Show type thing.
I DON’T KNOW.
All I DO know is that I get other people’s mail and other people get my mail, and it puts us all in some perpetual state of forced nosiness.
For example, I know that someone on the next cul-de-sac over gets letters from prison, and they know that I get lots of stupid entertainment magazines. Magazines which I suspect they read while pooping, then give back to me (because that’s totally what I would do in that situation). And whether they actually took my magazines into the crapper or not, I’m never gonna be able to stop thinking that they did. And it kinda ruins the entire magazine reading experience for me when I’m trying to enjoy a story about some douchey thing Kanye did and all I can picture is my neighbor reading the same story while going poop.
But last Friday I found out about something better than prison love or hair club for men: I found out which of my neighbors orders porn.
And it’s awesome.
Now most people -if accidentally given some of their neighbor’s porn mail- would probably either throw it away or casually slip it into the correct mailbox so that their neighbor would never know that they know that they’re a freaky porn addict.
But I am not that neighbor.
This is what the porn catalog looked like when I returned it to them:
Man, my neighbors are all so lucky to have me.
14 Responses to “Dear Mailman, Thanks for being a f@ckup.”
Leave a Comment
Don't have a Gravatar? (the small photo that shows up when you make a comment). Get one here, it's FREE: Sign up for a free Gravatar