Dear Beyoncé,
Thank you.
Your super secret, self-titled album came out at the right time in my life. It’s as if you knew the catchy songs about women empowerment and the phat beats were the perfect remedy to inspire me.
I danced to “Partition,” “Drunk in Love” and “Blow” as I was slinging pizza at Greek’s Pizzeria. “Pretty Hurts” and “Blue” helped calm me down as I read through boring textbooks. As I edited stories for the paper and worked on homework, “Haunted” and “XO” kept me from straying away on Facebook or Instagram.
Finally, when I reached my breaking point and wanted to throw in the towel, “***Flawless” and “Grown Woman” reminded me if I want to get anywhere in life, I have to work for it.
Regards,
A grown man who can do whatever he wants
P.S. Even though you’ve helped me keep a level head recently, you may owe everyone around me an apology, as they witnessed me try to sing and dance like you. Needless to say, I cannot.
Dear Netflix,
Thank you.
My life has been taken over by stressful days. Getting on campus at 9 a.m. and not returning home until 9 p.m. has taken its toll on my sanity. I’ve got names of athletes, dates, forms, money problems and pizza orders running through my mind constantly.
At 11 o’clock every night, I sit on my cat-hair-covered couch in my boxer briefs with a glass of ice water in one hand and a Wiimote in the other. I have a date with my TV, and you’re invited.
I don’t need to scroll through the endless movies and TV shows you have to offer; I know what I’m watching. It’s No. 1 on my instant que, and the five stars underneath the title shine bright gold. It’s time to re-watch season 5 of “Malcolm in the Middle.”
Call me a sucker for loving a sitcom about a dysfunctional family or immature for laughing at Bryan Cranston — the man who knocks on doors on “Breaking Bad” — performing an intricate rollerblading dance routine. I don’t care. I can tune in and take my mind off of Sochi, even if it is only for an hour a night.
xoxo,
Life is unfair
Dear Delta Airline,
Thank you.
Leaving a day early could have pushed me over the edge. As I scrambled to get everything packed into two small bags, the last thing on my mind was the airplane I would board.
The realization that I would be sitting in the same spot for seven hours set in as I wiggled around in the passenger seat of the spacious mini van. I changed positions three times before we even got onto the interstate. I settled on putting my feet on the dashboard.
Lord, I was in trouble.
The first flight was quick, and my excitement outweighed my constant need to readjust, but as I boarded the flight to Amsterdam, I was already uncomfortable. The seats were tiny and my tall, thick frame would not be able to sit on this 8-hour trip.
I was ready to jump out of plane when a list of free movies popped up on the screen in front of me. Sold. If I couldn’t fall asleep, at least “Kick-Ass 2” and “Juno” could keep me company.
Then they gave me free food and free beer. I drank three beers during dinner as I listened to Bastille on the free radio. This must be how Queen Elizabeth feels as she travels: pure royalty.
Sure, I couldn’t sleep, but at least I felt inspired to take on life after watching “The Help.”
Sincerely,
A future frequent flyer
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