21 September 2007

We ♥ Our Customers

If you'd asked me yesterday I'd have told you the miracle of life is rice pudding, but today its a nice, pressed, heavily starched shirt.

An open letter to my dry-cleaner on 86th street:

Sir, I've had five or six shirts being held hostage by you going on 2 weeks now. You are never open and I need my goddamn shirts!

Sign says you're open til 7 o'clock everyday. Dudes don't get home from work til 7 pal, and who the fuck do u think needs their dry cleaning done?!

NBC 4 wised up and put a newscast on at the 7 o'clock slot because hardly anyone is home from work by 6pm much less 5pm!

I go by your store as soon as I get home and it looks like you've been closed for hours already. Gone. Done. Gates up. Lights off. What the fuck are you doing in there? You got bored? Went home? I need my shirts, you fuck!

I'm coming there today after work, and if you ain't open, there's gonna be beef because I'll be away all weekend and you're closed on Sunday.

Don't make me roll up the sleeves on my French blue Wall Street power shirt!

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