I just received a chain text. From my mother. I was sitting here in front of my Mac minding my own business with my cows on Farmville when it loudly announced itself. It proclaimed the following:

"...If you believe in God please send to 10 people, please don't ignore you are being tested. For it says in the Bible that if you deny me in front of everyone, i will deny you in front of my father!"

Oh really?

I am not going to get into my specific beliefs right now.

I would like to say however, I really do not appreciate having my eternal salvation threatened via a grammatically poor text message. Am I really supposed to believe that amidst all of the craziness going on in this big bad world that god has somehow found the time during a coffee break to torture me with this? Just sitting around eating a doughnut waiting to tic off whether I zoom off forwards to 10 other suckers OR ELSE. Wasn't that already the plot of some bad late 90's horror movie?

Does he have an app for that?

Dear God,
Chain mails are for 4th graders and hillbillies. Please stick to rainbows and squirrels and the merit of how we all treat each other and leave the texting to all the teenagers on Twitter.
Thanks.

I need a job. I don't understand why this seems to be so hard to accomplish. I send out countless resumes, go on interviews, give all the 'right' answers and nothing. I want to wait tables, not perform heart surgery, but the people who run these establishments seem to think you need some sort of special degree to ask people what they want to eat and encourage them to spend their paycheck on the establishment's expensive booze.

"We're sorry, we do appreciate your years of experience, it's just that none of these places you've listed are at the level of service we provide"

Please. I understand that there are a lot of detailed points in the execution of fine dining service, but give me a break. Just because it's been a while since I worked in such a fashion don't you think it's a little presumptuous to assume I am not capable? Shouldn't the fact that I am able to stand before you in interview appropriate attire and present you with a well done resume void of any typos or grammatical errors indicate that I am clearly of sufficient intellect to perform the task of filling your patrons bread baskets? I've seen the resumes other people are passing around out there. I know what you've seen. The resumes full of shirtless photos (illegal), shameless graphics and little to zero knowledge of our modern spell check function. I know that 9 out of 10 you look like that. I see that waiter back there with the unpressed shirt. I know your game. So why are you so intent on making me feel like a hillbilly at a Met Gala? I guaranty whoever you decide on will not be any better than me.

You see Mr. Snobby Manager what you don't seem to understand is that I am just as snobby as you are. I want to be wearing semi-designer duds from Century 21 and drinking mid-level Prosecco discussing Frank Bruni vs. Sam Sifton too, but you see; I need money to do that. Until one of you can buck up and give me the chance I deserve though I will continue to be worried, ramen eating, holey booted and waiting for the day when a big splurge won't be a hot cup of coffee. It's rough out there jerkwad.