Snail Fail Mail

Checking the mail is probably one of the lamest things I do in my life. I walk down the stairs to a bunch of metal boxes, bend down to find my number on the last row, insert my key, and open that tiny door.

What do I find inside? Letters from my friends? No, those are e-mail. Really cool magazines? No, those are online.

In my snail mail box is always one of two things: ads and bills.

Neither make me happy. I hate checking the mail. And can someone tell the AARP that I am no where near ready for that membership?