It feels great to be writing a letter to such a snazzy dresser. Actually, I don’t know if you’re a snazzy dresser. I just assume you are because you’re wearing a suit in your WordPress photo. Then again, so am I, but I haven’t worn pants since April, so does that mean I lose the ability to call myself snazzy?
That opening paragraph did not go how I expected it would.
And if you’re wondering about my pants comment, it means I walk around in underwear everywhere.
Oh man, I’m digging an unnecessary hole for myself here.
I wear shorts! Don’t worry!
This is what I like about writing letters. I get to jokingly embarrass myself and then come to my own rescue. Anyway, I’m thrilled to be sending this letter out to India. Is there a chance it might ride an elephant? If so, that’s awesome! If not, I’m disappointed.
So you like cop talk, huh? I know you mean the strategy side of their job but I’m going to take it literally. Like, “Police! Open up!” and “Pull over!” That’s cool. Or maybe it’s the “10-4” they respond with that you enjoy.
10-4 is cool, I must admit. It sounds like an ideal work day. None of this 9-5 nonsense. Right? Sleep in late, go home early.
Here’s a joke for you to spread to your friends: “On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate (anything)? *Wait for their answer*. “Wrong. The correct answer is 10-4.”
Lame? Very. Witty? Very. More lame than witty? STOP ASKING ME THESE QUESTIONS, ANSHU!
Okay, you want to know about that FBI guy who came up to you about a secret mission. I know all about him. I’ll not only tell you who he is, but what he was up to.
His name was Stanley. His colleagues call him Lee, instead of Stan, just to get on his nerves. He loves dolphins and calling out strangers who leave public washrooms without washing their hands.
He’s a swell guy.
The super secret mission he was on is no longer “super secret”. In fact, he wanted you to join him as an undercover informant, but my sources tell me you called him Lee and he didn’t like it, so he decided against bringing you aboard.
He was put on a mission called “Operation Corn Field B”. Yes, the B stands for Butter.
As the story goes, people have been sneaking into the local movie theatres in the middle of the night to make popcorn and pump the butter dispenser at least 9 times per large bag. And when the staff comes in the next morning, they are out of kernels and butter.
Stanley thought you looked like a respectable person. Must’ve been the suit in your WordPress picture! He wanted to put you undercover at the movie theatre.
They suspect it’s an inside job because only the staff members know where and how to turn off the surveillance cameras. And they know how to clean up. Popcorn is never found on the floor in the morning.
Thieves aren’t clean. Staff members are.
And if you’re asking me why no one of authority stakes out the movie theatre in the middle of the night, then I don’t have an answer for you. Maybe they’re tired?
Popcorn and butter is delicious but stealing it is a crime. Who knew? My sources tell me they have a hot lead, but it might just be the butter overheating.
If you didn’t call him Lee, you would’ve been put on the case and it probably would’ve been solved by now, but it’s not. Way to go, Anshu!
I’ll keep you posted if the culprit is ever caught, but for now, Operation Corn Field B is very much still active.
Transitioning out of crime now, you wanted to know what really pisses me off to the point where I write something really scathing or swear a lot.
First of all, I don’t really swear. At least not the big ones. And definitely not to people. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m a decent person. I’ll swear to myself, though.
When will I write anything scathing? I don’t know. If I ever write anything critical on my blog I make sure to put a small bit of humour in it so I don’t get a million comments from people looking for something to be offended about.
A lot of the time, I don’t really care enough to get really mad about much. People are people and they do dumb things. Doesn’t mean I need to write a holier-than-though post about it.
When I worked at camp I would get frustrated on a daily basis. There’s something about kids not listening and not wanting to participate in anything for eight straight hours that gets my blood boiling. Especially when I’m told I have to encourage them. Some kids can’t be encouraged. Don’t tell me otherwise.
I get mad at sporting events sometimes. Like why does someone have to get up from their seat seven times over the course of two and a half hours? SIT DOWN.
I don’t like strongly scented hand soaps. Those make my head hurt.
I don’t know what else makes me mad. I can get angry over things that are not fair, but then someone will always say “life’s not fair” and then I get mad at them for speaking in cliches.
I guess my anger is determined on a case-by-case situation.
And with that, I must be off! I have some popcorn to eat and butter to pump. NO, I am not the culprit. Maybe.
I hope you enjoyed this letter even though you found out you missed out on participating in a secret mission. Oh well, there’s always next time. Maybe someone will steal pepperoni from the local pizza place.
Over and out,
Pauley aka Lee