Dear good looking dude who works at Subway.

You have been rude and unpleasant to deal with both times you have made me a sandwich. I’ve witnessed you be short with your Indian co-worker, so I know it’s nothing personal. But still, fuck you. Why are you so sour? Like, I know you have a shit job, but you look like Matt Corby. You’re 20 or 21 and you have a better beard than me. You are not short. You are not bald, nor is your hairline receding. You have long, thick, sandy hair that sits perfectly and gives off the vibe that you don’t give a shit about anything. Women would bang you even if you had super chlamydia (a hypothetical disease that occurs when regular chlamydia resists the antibiotics and essentially doubles in potency).

Sure, your job is looked down upon by adults. But they’re fat and married and miserable and can’t afford to do anything fun because they have kids and a mortgage. Who cares what they think. They sit under fluorescent lights entering hideously boring information into Microsoft Word for nine hours a day. Every white collar job is the same. They have to work overtime for no extra money most weeks. They worry about their bosses and promotions over the weekends. You aren’t missing out on anything. When you clock the fuck out right on time at the end of a shift, within five minutes you’re probably drinking a beer and texting some hot chick with balayage hair to cruise round to your sharehouse and bang you silly. You won’t care if your roommates hear. They’ll high-five you later over pizza and beer.

You look like you’re in a band. You probably suck, but you still would get laid more than me. And I’m good. But I look like a fatter, uglier Heath Ledger. If I had your hairline and facial symmetry, I would be getting laid so often that I’d be getting tested for super chlamydia weekly. Daily. So stop being so sour you good looking jerk.

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