early one mornin' while making the rounds

Total Drive-Thru Bluntness Experiment, Episode One:

Me: *Sip* This iced tea tastes like coffee!
Manager: Oh sorry. You want some sugar?

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Dear Joaquin Phoenix,

No one loves you more than I do. Back in 2005, when I should have been saving my pennies to buy my first apartment, no one parted with more hard-earned cash to watch you pine after Reese Witherspoon's June Carter in theaters than me, and no one ran out faster to buy the first crappy DVD edition that came out. No one's WTL soundtrack has been played and sung to more fervently than (or as long past the movie release as) mine. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, "I stuck that lovin' forty-four beneath my head" still swims in a lovely, foggy haze.

Your finest moment: Singing "It Ain't Me, Babe" with Reese Witherspoon while staring uncomfortably at Gennifer Godwin. Good stuff! Topped only by you wordlessly flying in to take Bryce Dallas Howard's hand and shut the door behind you both in "The Village." I love you. I prefer your Johnny Cash to the real Johnny Cash, for goodness' sake.

That all being said, could you please not do this? Seriously, you're breaking my heart. I'll probably never sit in another darkened theater again. (Actually, calculating how much money I spent watching "Walk the Line" and considering the cost of movies these should keep me out of theaters for at least a few years to come.) It ain't you, babe. And by the way, your hands read "Bye Good" - what the fcuk?

Sincerely,

The Cat