To All You Begrudged NY Times Subscribers:

Take a deep breath, count to ten - or twenty or thirty or even one hundred - and remember: it's only a newspaper!

So it turns out that my mostly unwavering positive attitude cannot endure the nastiness that spews out of the mouths of NY Times subscribers. I have consequently parted ways with this employer (the husband and child were not getting a very smiley Megan by the end of each day).

I realized, however, that I had missed my opportunity to convey to these horribly dreadful, foulmouthed individuals what exactly was going through my head while they wore out my good mood.

So, for those of you who need a few helpful reminders (you know who you are):

1. "Why can't that damn paper boy get my paper up my 60 steps, down the hallway to left of the kiddie-corner one, across from the burned out lamp, beside the elevator, two shimmies to the right, and hung in a plastic bag on my doorknob?"
PREFERRED REPLY: Check yourself. Anywhere on your person do you see any of these things: crown? purple velvet robe? emeralds and rubies the size of eyeballs? NO??? Then shut the hell up and let him deliver it to the flippin' lobby.

2. "How many times do I have to tell YOU PEOPLE? I need my paper by 4:45 every morning! I drive 3 hours from the suburbs to get to the city for work, and I leave by that time. Get my paper here earlier!"
PREFERRED REPLY: You're not the only person to receive the paper! You try getting your ass out of bed at 1am to package and deliver papers so that you, in your smug Armani suit, candy-apple red Ferrari, and multi-million dollar home can have your paper by that ungodly hour!

3. "WHAT??? The cost of my weekly paper has gone up $.05?!?! I can't afford that! How dare they increase the price of the paper!"
PREFERRED REPLY: You have four homes: one in Manhattan, one in Key West, another in San Francisco, and yet one more in Houston. Quit bitching and pay.

Surely there are many more situations I could play out for your enjoyment, but you get the idea.